Legendary Head Shave Tales
Divya had always lived by the rules of her orthodox South Indian family, where a woman’s long hair was her pride. But deep inside she had restless curiosity. What if she let it all go? The idea felt thrilling, almost forbidden, yet it existed her. One evening, standing before the mirror, she ran her fingers through her thick hair one last time. A rush of excitement and fear swirled within her. Without another thought, she knew—this was the moment.
Her heart pounded as she switched on the trimmer. The low hum sent a thrill through her veins. With a deep breath, she placed it against her forehead and pushed it back. A thick lock of her long hair slid down her shoulders, exposing a bare patch of scalp. Her breath hitched, but she pressed on, moving the trimmer steadily over her crown and sides.
Dark strands rained down, pooling at her feet as her reflection transformed. Her sharp cheekbones and wide eyes became more pronounced, the weight of her past shedding with every pass. With only rough stubble left, she reached for the shaving foam, spreading it across her scalp. The coolness sent shivers through her body. Taking the razor, she placed it at the front and dragged it back slowly, revealing smooth, gleaming skin.
Stroke by stroke, she erased the last traces of hair, the blade gliding effortlessly, leaving behind nothing but raw, striking beauty. As she wiped away the foam, she ran her fingers over her freshly shaved head. It was soft, sleek, unfamiliar—yet strangely empowering. Looking at her reflection, a slow smile formed on her lips. She was completely bald. And for the first time, she felt free.
The moment she stepped out of the bathroom, her mother gasped, covering her mouth with trembling hands. Her father, who had just entered the house, froze in his tracks, his brows knitting together in disbelief. “Divya… what have you done?” her mother’s voice barely came out as a whisper, but the weight of her shock was heavy.
“I just… wanted to try something new,” Divya said, forcing a casual shrug. Her mother stepped forward, her fingers gripping Divya’s chin, forcing her to look up. “Since you love this bald head so much, you will keep it that way.” Her words were cold, final. “Every single week, you will shave your head again. You will remain like this until we decide you have learned your lesson…”
Divya’s heart pounded. “Amma, Appa… please…” But her plea was swallowed by her father’s next words.“You will go to college like this. You will step outside, face the world, and let them see it clearly. No dupatta, no covering, no escape.” Her mother’s voice grew sharper. “And don’t think that we will forget. Whether you cry or beg, you will sit down, and we will shave you ourselves. We will see to it that not a single strand grows back ”.Divya’s stomach twisted.
College was no different. Her friends were hesitant, unsure of what to say. Some looked at her with pity, others with amusement. The whispers in the corridors grew louder, the stares bolder. “She looks like a boy now.” “Why would she do that to herself?” “She ruined her beauty.” Divya kept her head down, trying to ignore how exposed, how utterly humiliated she felt. No matter where she went, she could feel their eyes burning into her bald head. Divya could feel it.
Divya was being judged, questioned, rejected. Every three or four days, Divya sat silently on a wooden stool as her father sharpened the razor. Her mother stood nearby, arms crossed, her voice sharp. “You wanted to be bold? Then stay this way.”The cold steel scraped against her scalp, stripping away even the slightest stubble.
Warm coconut oil made the blade glide effortlessly, leaving her head smoother than ever. Strands of regrowth fell onto her lap—remnants of what she had lost.Her father wiped her head roughly. “This will continue until we decide you’ve learned your lesson.”Divya lowered her gaze. She had wanted freedom, but now, she was trapped in endless humiliation.
Weeks passed, and the excitement that once filled her heart faded. Every time she touched her smooth scalp, she was reminded of the stares, the whispers, the disapproval in her parents’ eyes. The confidence she had felt during the shave slowly chipped away, leaving behind an emptiness she hadn’t expected. She had wanted to be bold, to stand out. But now, she felt nothing but exposed.
That evening, she sat in her room, scrolling mindlessly through her phone. She hesitated before opening Instagram, dreading what she might see. Then, a notification popped up. A message request. Her heart skipped a beat as she opened it.
“You look stunning. True confidence isn’t about fitting in but standing out.” She blinked, rereading the words. A strange warmth spread through her chest. She clicked on the profile, and her eyes widened. It was one of her classmates. Someone she had noticed but never imagined would notice her.
For the first time in days, she smiled. The next morning, she walked into college with her usual shaven head, expecting the same whispers and stares. But now, she knew—someone was watching, not with judgment, but admiration.
