“What? You brought him back from the barber without him having his hair cut?”, this writer’s (the older brother) mother asked my father incredulously as he brought the by-now dried eyed little boy back from the ‘frightening’ experience at the barber’s to our Bedok kampong house. “He refused to have his hair cut, so I brought him back…” was my father’s honest reply. Babu (or Mr in Indian terms as explained by former neighbour Ronald Ho) was our preferred go-to barber for all the male-folk in the family, not the Chinese one situated a little farther along. Babu’s shop was located near (or next to) Ah Yam’s provision shop, along Bedok Road (Ah Yam's story was posted on October 16, 2024) and just where the bus stop is (now Cold Storage). He was mostly dressed in a white short sleeved shirt and had a genteel and calming way about him. He was great, but not the aura of his shop and equipment! As a little me recalled, I intensely disliked seeing the chair which had a fear aboding loo...