Hair today, gone tomorrow

Indian men once loved their handlebar moustaches and flowing beards. But not anymore, says a recently-released book that traces fashions in facial hair

Till not so long ago, it was almost empowering for a man to thoughtfully run his hand through his long beard or simply curl the corners of his handlebar moustache. Suggest to any self-respecting male that he shave it off and chances are you’ll draw looks of horror. Or at least a snort that says it all. After all, India is home to some of the most incredible styles of facial hair — from the Veerappan-style moustaches in the South to the billowing beard of the ubiquitous saffron-robed sadhu.

But is the guy next door willing to take on the tradition? Be it a small town where every man wants to be the next (clean-shaven) Khan or a metropolis where the man is still confused whether to be a metrosexual or an Alpha male, facial hair isn’t very high on the priority list. Little chance that one will find an Indian male sporting a magnificent moustache maintained painstakingly that he will kill to keep.

Richard McCallum, a pogonologist (one who studies fashions in facial hair), says he regrets it most. “Most young men across India want to imitate Bollywood heroes who rarely sport facial hair. Though I can’t imagine Tibetans in the Himalayan gompas without their wizened Chopsticks or the five-star hotel’s doorman sans his signature moustache and beard, we are fast losing this fascinating heritage,” says this Delhi-based businessman who owns an adventure tourism company.

A similar discussion with the Taiwan-based photographer, Chris Stowers, at a party two years ago, led to the making of the book that McCallum thinks does justice to the sentiment. Stowers himself has been fascinated by Indian styles in facial hair. “They have a lot of character, yet, no book has plugged this topic. I readily agreed to McCallum’s offer,” he remembers. How else, they ask, could one compile the only chronicle of India’s shortest, longest, droopiest, most eccentric beards and moustaches? The findings that took the duo to regions and towns rarely ventured before, is the coffe-table book, Hair India — A guide to the bizarre beards and magnificent moustaches of Hindustan, that released last week. 

For the two years that followed their introduction, McCallum spent most weekends striking conversation with unassuming rural folk in halting Hindi, a regional dialect or sign language. In no time, Stowers would appear from nowhere and the duo would begin praising the man’s beard or moustache, coaxing him to pose for a “collection of photographs.” In many cases, Stowers’ own 7-inch-long moustache helped break the ice — the men usually did give in to their doggedness. On more exciting days, McCallum and Stowers chased the Shaiva Nagars with jatas (Dreadlock beards) decorated with peacock feathers, flowers and dried cow-dung, atop their heads at the Pushkar Mela in Rajasthan. “Most of the research,” says Stowers, “was done by McCallum. He hit the internet, trawled through pogonology books from the Edwardian and Victorian eras where Indians sported fine facial hair, and drew up an itinerary.” 

And an eclectic one it was. To find maximum men with facial hair, McCallum and Stowers blended into large gatherings in India “brimming with bearded and moustachioed snake charmers and bullock cart-racers”. They gaped at the cameleers at one of the world’s largest cattle fairs and cheered pink-turbaned men at a contest to find Rajasthan’s best moustache.

At the moustache weightlifting champion at Bijapur, McCallum and Stowers were amazed at the champion who lifted 40kg up the stairs tied to his Mutton chops. During this ‘hirsute’ chase, the duo walked through elephant bazaars in Bihar and egged on septuagenarian wrestlers throwing their ‘Bullet Heads’ through hoops of fire at the Quila Raipur Rural Olympic Games near Ludhiana. “We got a fantastic photograph of a man called Sardar Mugger Singh at the Olympics. His finest trick was to gallop the length of the stadium with a leg astride each horse, barefoot and bare-back, with one hand on the reins and the other raised in triumphant salute. For someone of such obvious masculinity, it was fitting that Singh’s beard was a steely ‘Hemingway’,” remembers McCallum.

Stowers says he now believes in chance. “We accidentally bumped into most of our subjects. People led us to one person after the other,” he says. It was the search of the record holders in the country that had the pair sweating. During the course of their travelling, McCallum and Stowers discovered that India holds the record for the longest moustache (the 12ft long moustache of Ram Singh, Jaipur), the longest beard (6ft long, Shamsher Singh, Chandigarh) and the longest ear hair (12cm, Anthony Victor). “Singh has been growing his moustache for 20 years and is quite a star. He travels the world with his troupe of snake charmers and musicians, proudly informs that he has starred in the film, Octopussy and appeared on the cover of the Lonely Planet magazine,” recalls
Stowers. Singh ‘inherited’ this profession from his father and earns about $100 for a 2-hour-long photo session. Stowers says he loved ‘tracking down’ Shamsher. He was last mentioned on the internet 10 years ago — for all he knew, Shamsher would have passed on since. But he hadn’t. Stowers, uncertain, ventured miles beyond Chandigarh and found him by chance. “I mimed a long beard and some children of his area led me to his home where his family fed me Punjabi breakfast before the photo-shoot,” smiles Stowers.

However, one man Stowers can never forget is the “guy with the Dali moustache” in Bhopal. As the pair tried to photograph a group of farmers, the man shoved his way through inquisitive spectators and proudly showed off his moustache. “I couldn’t imagine him not having that ‘Dali’ moustache — it was integral to his personality,” says Stowers.

Hair India doesn’t seem to be a mere compilation of photographs celebrating this Indian tradition. McCallum and Stowers have drawn up a list of the names they gave the beards and moustaches based — expect to come across species of beards named Wacky Ladakhi, Asiatic Ball Buffer, Forked Patriach and Gandalfian and moustaches called Piccadilli Weepers, Tarzans’ Tendrils and Doodhwalla. A section is dedicated to explain why men maintain facial hair and how the younger generation is less enthused to sport beards and moustaches.

Traditionally, they say, the motivation is religious, for instance, in Sikhs and Muslims. While it is decorative for some, for others, facial hair connotes authority and something their profession demands — McCallum and Stowers found that policemen in Madhya Pradesh receive a monthly bonus for growing a moustache and that the BSF officials and hotel doormen simply cannot imagine finding a job without it. In rural India, facial hair often denotes masculinity and virility; and for a few, a fancy beard or a moustache is their only ticket to an odd cameo role or entertaining tourists for a quick buck.

“The urban scene is fast changing and the attitude will trickle down to the rural areas soon. Making this book after a decade would’ve been harder. We are glad we could celebrate it now,” say the duo.            
g_kareena@dnaindia.net