jenny b

The mustache travels well anywhere. Its silly and intriguing, always a conversation starter.  Plus, Jenny digs it. But in this land of western Rajasthan the mustache is revered. It lights up people’s faces. Brian is a rock star, a dignitary, a re-incarnated warrior. He is everbody’s friend. He walks down the street shaking hands, sharing tea and waving to the good buds from the day before. More than once he has been told in friendly backhanded broken english that he would be nothing without the mustache. It’s the mustache that makes a man.

Jenny thinks it is hilarious. She says that she has become invisible, unnoticed. She implies that this is a good thing, a welcome relief.

Sambu speaks no english other than ‘hello’. He is the most confident, charismatic and aggressive of the many eager barbers to get their hands on the white mustache man. Brian has been here for two days and has passed Sambu’s stand a few times but there would be no passing this time. Sambu clasped onto Brian’s arm and pulled him up into the chair. A crowd gathered to watch the spectacle. White mustache man was at the mercy of Sambu’s razor and style.