Friday, 3 April 2009


It took me no more than a second to catch this heartwarming scene, passing by a hair saloon and peeping over my shoulder through the window. The expression on the face of a middle-aged man, looking at the woman seated in front of the mirror, perky like a queen, surrendered to the skillful hands of the hairdresser. How not to assume she’s the woman of his dreams? Eyes don’t lie; they paint truth on a face. And his was a palette of colourful emotions.

There was a dot of teenage clumsiness on wrinkled canvas. There was idol’s admiration. A proud glance as he was looking up from his low chair position to the woman he could call his. A student and his master. There was a line of disbelief, surprise even, a hint of a miracle still happening, the doubtful look from an unconfident man who still can not think of any justified reason why his partner would choose him, while there are so many better parties out there. There was encouragement, reassurance, he needn’t use any words to tell the reflection in the mirror that the hairdresser was doing a terrific job. And above all, there was love, abundantly, all over, from top to toe and back up again. He must have been totally lost ever since he won her over.

One picture tells more than a thousand words, they say. This snapshot sure did. It touched me in its simplicity; it appealed to me in its complexity. I have been to so many places, I have seen so many people, and I deeply believe that in all our diversity, we are all so similar. The desire to grow old together with a loved one is sure one of the universal aspirations of mankind.

Love has no age, nor expiry date. I look at him, I look at her. I walk by unnoticed and by the fifth click of my heels on the floor I am passed the hair saloon already. I can’t help but smile as I start whistling a random tune.

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