The strange case of the Ear-Men

Walking south along the sea-wall from the Gateway of India, one quickly passes the monumental Taj Mahal Hotel – five-starred opulence. Shockingly quickly (at least to my Western eyes) the hotel-scene then changes. Just like so much of India there is no subtle blending; there is, instead, immediate contrast. Lining the street now come the two and three-star backpacker hotels – the cheapest and best way to wake up and see the bay of Bombay from old Colaba. In this stretch, in the heat of summertime anyway, it is virtually the only place to see Europeans strolling on the street.

Which could explain the unusual confidence trick (at least I assume it is one) going on there.

This is what happens.

As I walk (towards the Radio Club as a matter of fact), a casual young man coming towards me expresses surprise. Excuse me, he says, there is, he gesticulates, something sticking to the hair on the side of my head, or perhaps to my ear – something very unappealing, he seems to suggest.
It could be bird-droppings from the trees overhead, I wonder, and am grateful to the young man for his thoughtfulness.
He reaches, and his fingers brush around (and then, it seems, inside?) my right ear, and then seem to gather whatever it is. He shows me what he is now holding – a two-inch long string of an unpleasant material that looks like mucus, or phlegm.
I am astonished.

But suddenly fear comes over me, when I see what implement he has used to root out this objectionable stuff... a four-inch long steel needle. It is a chilling sight. Was that needle in my ear? Did he seek to puncture my ear-drum? Where did he suddenly get this tool?

Panic gets the better of me, and all I want to do is get away... I push him off, ignoring his apparently amazed protestations... anger and a heart banging at the rib-cage are all I feel.
Yards from him, I slow down, and examine my ear... but for what? A pin-prick of blood? Some object left there by sleight of hand? Or... is there really there a residue of that sap-like jelly? Nothing. But there is the shadow noise of his hand moving across my head; a slight echo still, in my ear, of his fingers – and it makes me uneasy. Am I damaged and don’t yet know it?

Later that day, another boy stops me – in the same street – and motions that he too has seen something in my hair. And the next day. And the next. All different young men.

Could these young men be distant cousins of the old men who sit on roadside-corners or outside railway stations waiting for passing trade and who use similar pins to remove collected ear-wax? In other words, are these young men touting for similar wax-extraction jobs?
(Don't ask me why anyone would consent to having their ears poked about with by these ear-men young or not. Whenever I ask about it, people say - to clean one's ears. Well, of course! But - is a flannel or a cotton bud not enough that India should need professionals? Or is ear-wax such a major problem here?)

By now, I realise that it is some sort of trick by these young men. But, what is it?
Or, is it an original way of attempting to start a conversation with a tourist, which then could lead to some more lucrative task?
But.... if they are legitimate ear-wax removers – what on earth makes them think a Westerner would consent to have an unregulated operator perform such a task? Do they ever get a tourist to agree to having it done?

Questions, questions.