Surat’s Celebrated Tonsorial Artist: Tom
‘Oh, Surat!’
‘Let us ask the first old Indian one can meet, soldier or civilian, where he was the happiest, and which he thought was the pleasantest station in the whole of Bombay Presidency?
His answer will be immediate-“Oh Surat! It was such a splendid city; the river was so fine, the commerce and shipping rendered it so cheerful, and the Moslem buildings were so magnificent; besides all that there was such good feeling in society –oh, there was never anything like Old Surat!”
And then, with garrulous delight ,the veteran hog hunter proceeds to dilate on the numerous ‘first spears’ he has taken ; on the pleasant picnics at Dumas and Vaux’s Tomb ; on the sporting songs of the celebrated Major Morris ,so often trolled forth in chorus from tents pitched upon the banks of the pleasant ‘Tapti’; nor does he forget to laugh once more over that character of fun and gossip ,that Figaro of the East ,Old Tom ,the Barber of Surat.’
When British ladies Marianna Postans and Marianne Young brought out their book on the Nawab of Surat in 1857, Tapi town’s introductory paragraph highlighted all of Surat’s delights which, as you may have noticed above, included the town’s favourite tonsorial artist, Tom.
Comparing him to Pierre Beurmachais’ Figaro-Le Barbier de Seville, albeit a little less mischievous, less dangerous but equally witty, lively and charming; the authoresses fondly note how everyone who had visited Surat in those days remembers Old Tom with a friendly feeling ,as an eccentric, peculiar character who brought many moments of entertaining chats to his customers .
It is a curious fact not generally known that this popular ‘hujjam’ (as locals called him) of Surat has been mentioned in many books which were published in the mid 1800’s by Britishers. So much so, that the Saturday Review on Politics vol 25 has its bunch of authors wondering why Sir Bartere Frere has devoted an entire page to Old Tom, in Old Deccan Days, which mentions him as,’ An ancient local celebrity named Tom the Barber whose vivid recollections of chronicles from former days could ill conceal the pride that he revealed them with.’
Everybody liked Tom and looked forward to his visits and varied tales as he went from house to house attending to the town’s elite. Described by different Europeans as a coiffeur with a swarthy complexion, about 45 years of age, clean shaven, with mischievous eyes, dressed in white linen, huge spectacles, small turban, a checked towel thrown carelessly over his shoulder, with a sheet sized cloth tied to his waist which displayed methodically arranged razors, soap box and pots of silver.
The resplendent paraphernalia exhibited around his abdomen consisted of his work tools inherited from his father, whose business he succeeded. Tom made sure everyone was well informed about the royal silverware’s history. Apparently the senior hair stylist had been gifted a shaving kit in pure silver by the Duke of Wellington who had honoured him with several sittings during his progress in the province of Gujarat.
Reputed to be an inquisitive and mendacious barber, who blended fact with fiction to present entertaining enchanting tales, Tom’s personal favourite was one about a sharp shooter who shot at earthen pots carried by women at the town well, with the pearl of his wife’s nose ring; but was killed in the battle by another good shot of a soldier who fired his gun for the first time.
Often a victim of his own success, he was much talked about by Tapi town’s tittle- tattle brigade. Upon remarrying a young and blooming wife, he was subjected to many cutting jests which were less witty but more telling than his own, but he chose to ignore them and exercised his vocation earnestly, blessing all his employers with a century’s age saying, “Mata pita make you hundred years old.”
As soon as any European arrived in Surat, Tom would call upon him at his lodgings requesting even heavily bearded and mustached men,”My Master, no let shave-let cut hair? Litt-lee long beard grow. Litt-lee six children and two wives die.Too much cholera.No let Tom cut hair-litt-lee .All sahib now no shave, long beard grow and Tom get no rupee.”
George Waters recollects in his 'Indian Gleanings' how he perplexed the chatter box into silence by offering him his dog to be trimmed because his own beard was too dear to him. After a minute of silence, Tom indignantly stood up and saluting with his knavish style bid the sahib adieu, never to return again.
An old Surti saying goes,’visit a popular barber and you wont need to read the newspaper’. Maybe it was stemmed by the story of Old Tom-the superfluous hair-destroying artist of a sufficiently civilized society.
‘Oh, Surat!’
‘Let us ask the first old Indian one can meet, soldier or civilian, where he was the happiest, and which he thought was the pleasantest station in the whole of Bombay Presidency?
His answer will be immediate-“Oh Surat! It was such a splendid city; the river was so fine, the commerce and shipping rendered it so cheerful, and the Moslem buildings were so magnificent; besides all that there was such good feeling in society –oh, there was never anything like Old Surat!”
And then, with garrulous delight ,the veteran hog hunter proceeds to dilate on the numerous ‘first spears’ he has taken ; on the pleasant picnics at Dumas and Vaux’s Tomb ; on the sporting songs of the celebrated Major Morris ,so often trolled forth in chorus from tents pitched upon the banks of the pleasant ‘Tapti’; nor does he forget to laugh once more over that character of fun and gossip ,that Figaro of the East ,Old Tom ,the Barber of Surat.’
When British ladies Marianna Postans and Marianne Young brought out their book on the Nawab of Surat in 1857, Tapi town’s introductory paragraph highlighted all of Surat’s delights which, as you may have noticed above, included the town’s favourite tonsorial artist, Tom.
Comparing him to Pierre Beurmachais’ Figaro-Le Barbier de Seville, albeit a little less mischievous, less dangerous but equally witty, lively and charming; the authoresses fondly note how everyone who had visited Surat in those days remembers Old Tom with a friendly feeling ,as an eccentric, peculiar character who brought many moments of entertaining chats to his customers .
It is a curious fact not generally known that this popular ‘hujjam’ (as locals called him) of Surat has been mentioned in many books which were published in the mid 1800’s by Britishers. So much so, that the Saturday Review on Politics vol 25 has its bunch of authors wondering why Sir Bartere Frere has devoted an entire page to Old Tom, in Old Deccan Days, which mentions him as,’ An ancient local celebrity named Tom the Barber whose vivid recollections of chronicles from former days could ill conceal the pride that he revealed them with.’
Everybody liked Tom and looked forward to his visits and varied tales as he went from house to house attending to the town’s elite. Described by different Europeans as a coiffeur with a swarthy complexion, about 45 years of age, clean shaven, with mischievous eyes, dressed in white linen, huge spectacles, small turban, a checked towel thrown carelessly over his shoulder, with a sheet sized cloth tied to his waist which displayed methodically arranged razors, soap box and pots of silver.
The resplendent paraphernalia exhibited around his abdomen consisted of his work tools inherited from his father, whose business he succeeded. Tom made sure everyone was well informed about the royal silverware’s history. Apparently the senior hair stylist had been gifted a shaving kit in pure silver by the Duke of Wellington who had honoured him with several sittings during his progress in the province of Gujarat.
Reputed to be an inquisitive and mendacious barber, who blended fact with fiction to present entertaining enchanting tales, Tom’s personal favourite was one about a sharp shooter who shot at earthen pots carried by women at the town well, with the pearl of his wife’s nose ring; but was killed in the battle by another good shot of a soldier who fired his gun for the first time.
Often a victim of his own success, he was much talked about by Tapi town’s tittle- tattle brigade. Upon remarrying a young and blooming wife, he was subjected to many cutting jests which were less witty but more telling than his own, but he chose to ignore them and exercised his vocation earnestly, blessing all his employers with a century’s age saying, “Mata pita make you hundred years old.”
As soon as any European arrived in Surat, Tom would call upon him at his lodgings requesting even heavily bearded and mustached men,”My Master, no let shave-let cut hair? Litt-lee long beard grow. Litt-lee six children and two wives die.Too much cholera.No let Tom cut hair-litt-lee .All sahib now no shave, long beard grow and Tom get no rupee.”
George Waters recollects in his 'Indian Gleanings' how he perplexed the chatter box into silence by offering him his dog to be trimmed because his own beard was too dear to him. After a minute of silence, Tom indignantly stood up and saluting with his knavish style bid the sahib adieu, never to return again.
An old Surti saying goes,’visit a popular barber and you wont need to read the newspaper’. Maybe it was stemmed by the story of Old Tom-the superfluous hair-destroying artist of a sufficiently civilized society.
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1 comment:
Fascinating account of 'Barber Tom'. Interested to see that you reference my great great grandfathers (George Waters) book. This book is frequently incorrectly attributed to the wrong George Waters, one who was an army surgeon (and much younger). The correct George Waters was a railway manager who fled a scandal in England to take up a railway post at Surat. He was accompanied by his 'mistress' who died in Bombay. George returned to England and promptly fell in love with his dead sweet-heart's sister 9my great great grandmother). The pair fled to Paris, where George lived out his days as the Continental Representative of the London Chatham & Dover Railway.
Thanks for this wonderful profile of Tom!
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