Legendary Head Shave Tales
It all started on a humid afternoon in their ancestral house in Kerala. Malavika, a first-year history student, was helping her mother clean the old storage room when she stumbled upon an ancient, dust-covered wooden box. Curiosity sparked in her eyes as she carefully opened it, revealing manuscripts, a rusted dagger, and a brittle parchment scroll. The scroll detailed a “family curse”—a long-forgotten ritual meant to break the misfortunes haunting their bloodline.
At first, she dismissed it as an old folktale, but as she read further the words blurred as her eyes filled with tears. The curse spoke of misfortunes growing worse until a sacrifice was made. Until now, she had only linked small incidents—the fire, the broken coconuts, the sickness—but now, it all led to something far worse. Their mother’s sudden death. Hari, who had been skeptical, stood frozen as Malavika whispered, “Amma’s death… was it because of this?”
A heavy silence fell between them. He wanted to deny it, to call it foolishness, but deep inside, fear gripped him. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. His carefree life, his disbelief—what if all of it had blinded him to something real? Malavika turned the manuscript’s pages with shaky hands. Skepticism turned into belief, and soon, Hari convinced his friends—Arjun, Madhavan, and Nandini—to accompany them on a secret trip to “Devil’s Kitchen” a mysterious and forbidden cave deep within the forests of Kodaikanal.
The ritual began at midnight, the air thick with disturbing silence. Malavika sat cross-legged in the center of the stone platform, her face smeared with sacred ash and crushed neem, a single drop of her blood placed on her forehead. Around her, 5 oil lamps were placed, casting restless shadows on the cavern walls. Hari moved in slow, rhythmic circles, chanting some hymn as per the manuscript. Then ” Jeevathma Abhishekam ” takes place , Hari pours ice-cold water over Malavika’s head, drenching her in a shiver that ran down her spine.
Then came the final step “Moksha Mundanam”. Hari’s hands steady yet tense, dipped the blade into a bowl of thick, dark oil a mixture of ash and sacred cocunut oil, its scent rich and heavy. Malavika closed her eyes as the cold steel touched her scalp. With each stroke, strands of her long, dark hair tumbled onto the stone floor, the flickering lamps reacting wildly, as if the cave itself was watching. As the head shave was complete The wind outside suddenly stopped. The silence grew heavier.
Malavika ran her hand over her freshly shaved scalp, her skin prickling at the unfamiliar sensation.The final step, “Raktha Ahuti” required hen’s sacrifice. Hari held the hen tightly as it struggled in his grip. With a quick slash of the blade, he finished it and warm blood flowed into a bowl.
Malavika sat still while her freshly shaved hair strands gathered in front of her. Hari, his hands slightly shaking, poured the blood over them. The strands turned deep red and the smell of the dead hen making everyone uneasy. Taking a deep breath, Malavika threw the blood-soaked hair into the fire. The flames crackled loudly, burning the offering. A sudden wind rushed through the cave, making the torches flicker wildly. For a moment, everyone got scared and rushed to their car without turning back.
As they came back to their house Malavika rushed inside, her bald head gleamed under the dim house lights. “Appa! Grandpa!” she called, breathless, her heart pounding. Her grandfather squinted at her, adjusting his glasses. “Why is your head… bald?” he asked, his voice filled with confusion. she rushed to her grandfather eagerly and told what they had done. The old man stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. And then, to her horror, he burst out laughing.
“You actually believed that nonsense? That manuscript… I wrote it when I was young and drunk! There is no curse, no ritual, no ancestral burden. It was just a silly story I made up for fun!” Hari’s face turned pale as he realized. The entire journey, the fear, the faith, the sacrifice—it was all for nothing. Hari and his friends clutched their stomachs, teasing her mercilessly. Even their father shook his head, amused.
Malavika stood frozen, her face burning with embarrassment. She had shaved her head and performed rituals—all for a drunken tale! “I can’t believe this!” she groaned, covering her smooth head as she rushed to her room. Hari called after her, still laughing. “Family’s savior, huh?” Malavika shut the door, flopping onto her bed, regretting her overthinking. Now, all she could do was wait for her hair to grow back!
In the first para you say “Malavika ….. was helping her mother…..”. At the end of the second para you say ‘Malavika whispered, “Amma’s death… was it because of this?” I think you have not properly corrected your manuscript. Clarify whether she was talking to her mother or Hari. If so, who is Hari? Her brother?
@Pankajneeraj here Amma is refreshing to mother’s mother… commonly in many village side this generation kids call grandmother as amma/avva and call mother as mother /mummy… especially gen z girls… yes hari is her brother