New Delhi, India – In the city’s affluent New Friends Colony, a roadside barber stall is buzzing with life beneath a makeshift tarpaulin. Here, labourers and blue-collar workers are gathering in late October after working long shifts, eager for a haircut in preparation for the Diwali festival on October 31.

“Today, I am seeing a rush!” says Sudesh Thakur, 55, a quiet, measured man in an orange T-shirt and dark brown trousers, his clipper in hand and a smile on his face. He speaks in a low, reassuring voice to his customers as he clips away, bringing a sense of calm to this busy road.

A security guard reads a newspaper while he waits for a haircut from Sudesh Thakur, a roadside barber in the New Friends Colony neighbourhood of New Delhi [Meer Faisal/Al Jazeera]

Thakur can be found here six days a week – Tuesdays are traditionally the barbers’ day off – walking to his stall from his home nearby each morning at 8am and closing at 6pm. He takes most of his precious tools – scissors, clippers – home with him at night, leaving his barber’s chair chained to a nearby pole secured to the pavement.

Thakur’s street-side barber’s stall is one of many scattered throughout the city, providing affordable grooming services amid the rising cost of living.

Take 52-year-old Rohtas, who grew up in a small village in Rajasthan. He spent his after-school hours at his uncle’s barbershop.

In 1986 while still a teenager, he moved to New Delhi in search of a brighter future. After a year of doing odd jobs, he decided to go back to what he knew best and set up a makeshift barber station on a roadside in Greater Kailash, an upmarket neighbourhood in south Delhi. He lives with his family in a small apartment near the street where he operates his stall, leaving his stall and barber’s chair chained to a tree at night.

These days, the father of three says, “I earn around 500 rupees daily, and I am content.”

Rohtas waits for customers next to his barber stall [Meer Faisal/Al Jazeera]

Although Rohtas continues the family trade, he has not encouraged his children to follow in his footsteps. One son is married and runs a shop in their ancestral village in Rajasthan while his other son and daughter are still in college. “I dream that they study hard and secure respectable jobs as government officers,” Rohtas explains. “I am working hard to ensure they have a better future.”

Rajesh Kumar moved to Delhi from Bihar in 1999 at the age of 18 to help his father run a barber’s stall on the roadside in the Jasola area, a mixed neighbourhood in southeast Delhi. But after some months, he started working as an assistant to a doctor at the Apollo Hospital in Jasola, handing out prescription papers and organising patient records.

After his father’s death from cancer a year later, Kumar took on the business himself, continuing the roadside tradition. “I wanted to continue his legacy,” he says, but he also hopes his children will pursue “better career choices”.

“I live in a one-room flat, but they should have big houses,” he says.

Roadside barber Rajesh Kumar inside his one-room apartment, which he has lit up with festive lights on the eve of Diwali [Meer Faisal/Al Jazeera]

Swami, 40, stopped his education while he was still in primary school because he was unhappy there but says he is determined to support his daughter’s dream of becoming an architect.

He first started cutting hair in his village in Uttar Pradesh. But 20 years ago, he moved to New Delhi and set up a roadside stall in the mixed, upper-middle-class Sarai Jullena neighbourhood, and it became his permanent address.

Some barbers who run roadside stalls also make home visits to provide haircuts, shaves and massages. Bhaiya Lal, originally from Uttar Pradesh, has been running his stall in Delhi’s Green Park area for the past 30 years. He says he has several loyal customers who request home visits. His wife also provides massage services for women, he said.

Combs, a razor, brushes and hair dye are arranged on the desk of a barber’s stall in the Okhla area of New Delhi [Meer Faisal/Al Jazeera]

Street-side barbers face seasonal challenges. Business dwindles during rainstorms or sweltering heat. However, most say they are happy to be working in the open air. “All we need is a clipper, a mirror and a chair,” Rohtas says. “If I move to a shop, I will have to invest a huge amount and pay monthly rent. I also get a sense of independence, not having to work under a boss.”

There are rarely problems with the police or local authorities, they say.

“During elections, we are asked to vacate the spots for a week, but other than that, no official bothers us,” Kumar says.

Some barbers say they have had run-ins with thieves, however. “There have been many times when my chair and my tools have been stolen in the night,” Kumar says. “I complain to the police, but they hardly help.”

He also recounts an incident when some vandals set his awning on fire.

Working on the roadside can be dangerous too. Thakur was once hit by a car while working at his spot. “The car drove rashly on the pavement,” he recalls. “I was hit and injured.” His work suffered because he was bedridden for six months afterwards.

Bhaiya Lal massages a client at his roadside barber stall as two drivers wait for their turn in Green Park, Delhi [Meer Faisal/Al Jazeera]

In addition to offering affordable haircuts, these spots serve as public spaces for the working class to discuss life, politics and personal struggles while smoking bidis (tobacco rolled in leaves) and cigarettes.

“I relax here, chat and share a smoke with Lal while waiting for passengers,” says Tara Singh, an auto rickshaw driver in his 40s from Uttar Pradesh. “We all come from different places, but here we became friends.”