Nobody would like to be in this man's shoes. Or earn a living the way he does. Because although Jayawant Bapurao Raut is a barber and cuts hair and shaves heads like all barbers do, he is summoned only when there has been a death in the customer's family. For Raut's workplace is the Omkareshwar ghat, the site where Brahmin last rites are performed.It's not a fascination for the morbid that got Raut into this line of work. He was simply following in his father's footsteps. The senior Raut, and his forefathers before him, all worked at the Omkareshwar ghat, their services required by tradition, and Jayawant Raut did not choose a way out. ``I've been doing this for over four decades now, having watched my father work and having learnt on the job. Where the ghat is situated today, used to be a crematorium site earlier. Growing up in this place, being associated with it one way or the other, death has lost its fear or sense of morbidity for me,'' says Raut, matter-of-factly.In fact, his work is sacred to him, keeping in mind the significance it has in terms of rites and rituals. ``When there is a death in the family, and the male members have to get their head shaved, they cannot walk into a saloon and get it done. There is a religious sanctity to this occasion, and that is what I value most in my job,'' he adds in an earnest tone.Every day is more or less the same for Raut, entailing two hours of work from 8 a.m. As the `dashakriya' rites are performed only during early morning, his working hours are also just then. During the rest of the day, Raut takes care of other routine requirements - the usual haircuts and shaves. But he prefers to take those jobs early in the morning, before he is needed at the ghat. ``Or then I have a bath before going anywhere, because those people do not know that I do the dashkriya work.``I do the routine shaves in order to sustain myself. Because the money I earn at the ghat does not suffice. The rates I charge - Rs 35 - have been decided by Moghe Guruji, the priest at the Omkareshwar temple. And that is really nothing compared to what such barbers get in Mumbai - they take anything from Rs. 51 to 151,'' says Raut. And a note of dejection creeps into his voice - not just because of the low prices, but also because he is tired of the work he does. ``Kantala aala aahe,'' he cribs, ``but since there aren't many of our ilk around, I feel I have to go on, or people would be inconvenienced. What's really sad is that even at a moment of grief like this (which is the only time people come here to get their head shaved), they haggle for the payment. Nowadays, many men do not get their head shaved completely, they just get a lock of hair cut for the sake of tradition. So they argue - `Rs. 35 for just one snip of scissors!' The significance of the moment is gone for a toss.'' His tale of complaintsnot over as yet, he continues, ``According to the shastra, the man is supposed to have a bath, drape a new dhoti (vastra), get his head shaved, have a bath again, and leave that garment behind for the barber. But when we have people who have problems even paying my fees, what more can I expect?''Lamenting about the loss of sanctity, he also mentions another factor that has effected a change in his work method - the awareness of AIDS, ``and so people often get their own razors, water and towel, which I think is just fine. Though I do take care to wash the razor and scissors carefully, change the blade after every customer, I have no hassles if they get their own equipment.'' A soft-spoken man, Raut seems unperturbed by the conditions in which he works. With a small smile, he shrugs, ``Men may come and go, but my work goes on''.
