May 12, 2002

Rich, like coagulated chocolate, throaty, like a sound emerging from the depths of her soul and resounding with optimism — that’s Saba Khan, a beautician who lives by the rules — her rules.

“My husband is my support — my Fairy Godmother. I don’t know what I would do without him,” she says while we’re seated in her immaculate, white-marbled salon.

The soft afternoon light shafts in through the floor-to-ceiling glass wall in the sprawling room which is part of the salon premises — ‘La Meche’ — which is French for ‘lock of hair.’ The decor, tastefully done in shades of neutral tones, scream sophistication and class — just like the woman seated gracefully before me in a refreshing ivory, sleeveless suit. But this lady possesses more than mere cool finesse — she’s edged with chaste warmth. Her auburn-tinted, cropped hair softly frame her peaches and cream complexion and cherubic features as we trek down memory lane to trace how she’s on her way to become a stalwart name in the world of beauty makers. That’s fast work for someone who’s moved to Karachi a mere four years ago after having settled more than two decades in the US.

“So what took you to the great US of A way back in 1978?” I ask as the sounds of the afternoon traffic on 26th Street softly seep into the plush interior.

 

‘It’s a man’s world in this part of the globe, I tell you,’ she declares, her eyes all fired up. ‘The men here treat us like third rate citizens. I look around and see all these wealthy women wallowing in depression; they’re addicted to sleeping pills even though they seem to have everything in life’
 

“Well,” she chuckles nonchalantly, “I got married.” At the age of 17 Saba Khan, fresh and impressionable, was whisked off to an unknown land. “I had the time of my life there,” she declares heartily. “My husband and I are the best of friends. He practically took me by the finger and taught me how to live life in a foreign land. He encouraged me to pursue a career and even researched for it. The result was the ‘Robert Fiance Hair Design Institute’ in New York.”

The cosmetology institute from where Saba graduated in 1983, was to serve as the first rung in the ladder of success. But life came to her in a disciplined manner. Her dream of becoming a beautician started as a mere shampoo girl at a renowned salon.

“Yes, that’s true,” she claims without a trace of inhibition. “In our country there’s a trend to run before one learns to walk, but in America one has to take one step at a time. And, for me no task is menial,” she finishes resolutely.

She bursts out laughing as she recounts her very first haircut. “I was cutting the hair of a Spanish fellow and in the process I clipped his ear. I didn’t even realize it,” she pauses dramatically for effect. “And neither did he,” she grinned as I squeal. “The owner of the salon took me aside; I was puzzled. He told me that I had blood smeared on my hands and I said ‘I must have cut myself’ to which he said ‘No Mrs. Khan, you didn’t cut yourself, you cut him’,” she threw back her head and roared with laughter.

It took no less than three impressive jobs at top-notch salons in New York for Saba to become a connoisseur of the glamorous beauty trade.

“Today, you just have to show me a picture of a haircut you want and I can do it. 20 years back that was not the story.” The States treated her well; her profession went hand in hand with raising her three daughters.

“The lifestyle in the West is such that things continue to happen. Nothing stops and everything ensues at it’s own uninterrupted pace.” But Saba had to make a heart-wrenching decision when her first child was born. “When my daughter was two years old, I left her with her grandparents in Karachi. I had put so much time and effort in my career, I had to make this sacrifice. Two years later when I was on a firmer foundation I brought her back to New York.”

A person who thrives on professionalism, she had a thorny time trying to settle back into the crude, slothful routine in Karachi when her family moved back in 1998.

“It’s a man’s world in this part of the globe, I tell you,” she declares, her eyes all fired up. “The men here treat us like third rate citizens. I look around and see all these wealthy women wallowing in depression; they’re addicted to sleeping pills even though they seem to have everything in life. They’re so consumed by materialism and obsessed with designer labels. I yearn to tell them that all that is fake. It’s deception!” she says shaking her head.

So how did the salon start off, reaching the position that it has acquired today? “When I returned to Pakistan in 1998 I was very lonely. One fine day my husband saw me depressed and before I knew it he had bought this shop and announced, ‘This is yours, now get busy’. It was a tremendous morale boost because he had invested so much in this venture. I ‘had’ to make it work,” she moves an immaculately manicured hand, lovingly glancing at the marbled room which is part of the two-winged, state-of-the-art salon.

“It took an entire year for this project to come alive. I was on the brink of a nervous breakdown. In the mean time I did my refresher course with Asad Baig for eight months which was a lovely experience because I had never worked with Pakistani skin type and hair before.”

Saba is the kind of lady who believes in generously pouring her mind, body and soul into everything she does; her ardour is blatantly reflected as she enlightens me about her glitzy line of work. “Hair colouring is a complete, intricate science to which I have devoted years. Colour and bridals are my passion,” she exclaims. A woman who has to her credit a laudable assortment of awe-inspiring degrees and diplomas from workshops peppered around the globe, the lady has made a niche for herself.

Saba bagged one of the top ten positions in the Bridal makeup category at the Hair Asia Pacific 2001 contest in Bangkok which boasted participants from 16 countries. “I was ‘so’ scared,” she explains, “but the President of the Pakistan Women’s Beauticians Association, Rohana Iqbal, finally convinced me to go. It all went brilliantly.

“Fashion is not about smearing traffic-red lipstick on your mouth,” says Saba. “I get ‘so’ upset when I see horrendous gold-streaked tresses,” she frowns. A beauty-maker with a difference, she says that true beauty lies within. “If you don’t feel good from the inside, it’ll reflect on the face. I want to make my name as the best make-up artist and colourist, world over,” she says ambitiously.

For a woman who cherishes her work, Saba gives family life just as much importance.

“I like to return home by six in the evening. I religiously observe a ritual of having tea with my husband at that time,” she reveals demurely. “A date,” I mischievously remark. She answers in her patented bubbling laugh. Bearing true to her commitments seems to be her unwritten maxim. “I tell all my customers ‘I wont let you go until you’re totally satisfied.’”

Leaving the swanky salon, which she affectionately calls her ‘domain’, she plants a delicate peck on my cheek; her laughter — a luscious, unadulterated sound — continues to resounds in my mind long after our tete-e-tete is over. It leaves in its wake the silhouette of a woman who’s an intoxicating concoction of sparkling passion and rational sensibilities. Throw in a tinge of indomitable resolve and a dash of unaffected charm and you have the belle of La Meche.

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