Legendary Head Shave Tales
It was one of those quiet Chennai afternoons. The fan was on full speed, the sun was sharp outside, but inside the house everything felt slow and easy. Trishika was lying on the sofa infront of the TV, watching Bigil film, laughing now and then. Her long braid lay to one side as she absent mindedly played with it, flicking the end against her cheek. She was in her holiday mood — no college, no assignments, just movies, snacks, and reels.
In the next room, Padma was folding clothes, humming a tune softly while scrolling through reels on her phone. Her voice kept breaking the silence — “Aiyo, look at this dog dance!” and “These filters are too much da.” She finished wiping the window and came into the hall, glancing at Trishika with a smile. “Kutty, haircut pannalama? Sun is good now, light also coming to balcony.”
Trishika paused the movie, rolled to her side, and sat up. “Okay Amma, come. Let’s do it after the movie finishes.” By the time the movie ended, Padma had also wrapped up most of her work. The kitchen was clean, clothes folded, and the house smelled faintly of turmeric and soap. Trishika switched off the TV, stretched her arms with a yawn, and walked to the balcony with the towel in her hand. She sat cross-legged on the floor near the railing, the same spot they used every month.
Padma followed her with a small plastic stool, a wide-toothed comb, a water spray bottle, a pair of scissors, and an old steel dabba with clips. It was their usual haircut time — quiet, breezy, and full of light-hearted chatter. Trishika pulled her long braid to the front, already relaxed, while Padma sat down behind her and began combing through Trishika’s long braid. The soft breeze from outside brought in the smell of dried clothes and cut mangoes from the neighbour’s window.
Trishika sat cross-legged, scrolling through her phone, smiling at reels. “Too much knots, kutty… idhu enna, you don’t comb at all or what?” Padma mumbled, tugging playfully. “I do, Amma! Weekly twice okay?” Trishika replied, half-distracted, trying to pause a video. Snip by snip, hair began falling onto the floor. Their conversation wandered easily — from college lectures and campus food to her friend’s last-minute birthday shopping plan.
“That Naidu Hall sale is coming, no? I need a new kurti, this time you’re coming with me,” Trishika said, tilting her head slightly as her mother trimmed the back. “You want me to stand in trial room line with you? Aiyo,” Padma sighed, smiling. They both laughed. The scissors kept working slowly, and Padma had now taken it down to neck level, but Trishika didn’t seem to notice or care — still chatting about a senior she thought was cute. “He walks like he owns the corridor. Just eye candy, Amma.
Nothing serious.” Padma chuckled, clicking her tongue. “Paavam avan. You all just crush and move on.” It was simple happy moment… It was only when Padma paused to dust off the loose strands from Trishika’s shoulder that she realized how far she’d gone. It got higher during the chatter, and now most of the hair at the back barely combable. “Aiyo,” she murmured under her breath, blinking for a second. almost like a short boy cut. She hadn’t planned it at all.
Lost in the rhythm of the scissors and the warmth of their conversation, she’d simply kept going. She looked at her daughter, still chatting casually, phone in hand, completely unaware. For a moment, Padma thought of telling her. But then… she hesitated. The thought popped into her head like a silly reel trend — that head shave challenge she saw just yesterday. Girls going bald for fun, summer styles, Insta likes, fresh starts. “Why not kutty too?”
she thought with a small grin. It was peak Chennai summer, after all. And Trishika had been bald only once, when she was two and she looked like the cute back then. Padma’s curiosity stirred stronger now. “What will this kutty look like bald at twenty?” she wondered, hiding a smile. The idea sounded too tempting and a little mischievous. She didn’t pause the scissors. Didn’t show a hint of doubt. Instead, she gently sprayed more water, sectioned the hair like normal, and continued talking.
Her tone cheerful and steady, all while quietly deciding how to proceed next. Padma gently combed the freshly cut ends “You know kutty,” she began, smoothing the back with her palm, “if you oil twice a week and don’t tie your braid too tight, the hair will grow thick and fast. Also, avoid washing it with hot water… it weakens the root.” Trishika nodded half-heartedly, eyes still glued to her phone. “Hmm… I’ll try, Amma. But you know na, I want to grow it really long this time… like Samantha fluffy fluffy.”
Padma smiled, trying not to react too much. “Appadiya? Okay okay… let’s see how it goes.” Then she got up slowly, brushing hair from her saree. “I’ll just drink water and come. Don’t touch your head or shake it, already loose strands everywhere,” she said, playfully tapping Trishika’s shoulder. “Okay Amma,” Trishika replied, unlocking her phone again. She adjusted her seating a bit, leaned back, and started watching Kodiveeran movie.
Padma came back quietly with a folded towel in her hand, hiding the safety razor tucked inside. “Just some massage for your scalp kutty,” she said gently, dipping her fingers in water and patting it along Trishika’s crown. The girl flinched slightly, surprised by the coolness. “Aiyo, what is this Amma?” she asked, turning a little. “Shhh. Relax. Just softening the hair da… helps the new growth,” Padma said, keeping her voice calm. Trishika shrugged, smiled faintly, and turned her eyes back to her screen.
“Fine” Padma smiled to herself, gently pressing down the damp strands, her hands steady and heart quietly racing. Trishika leaned forward slightly, the phone resting in her palm, eyes fixed on the screen. The Kodiveeran movie had reached that temple scene — the heroine sitting silently as her long hair was being shaved off as part of a vow. “Amma, this scene is so emotional,” she mumbled softly, watching as the razor moved over the scalp on-screen.
She could almost hear the scraping sound, feel the weight of the moment. But then — something felt… different. There was a cool breeze that touched the top of her head not over her hair, but against skin. At the same time, she heard a faint scraping noise. Not from the phone. Real. Her eyes narrowing in slow confusion. A strange sensation crept down her spine. She paused the movie, blinked, and raised her free hand up to her head.
Her fingers touched bare skin. Freshly exposed scalp. She froze for a second, then turned sharply. Her mouth parted in disbelief. Long locks of her hair were lying all over the towel, scattered like fallen petals. Padma, sitting behind her, had the safety razor in hand, halfway through scraping down the crown. “Amma… what is this?!” Trishika’s voice cracked, not loud, but filled with hurt. “You… you’re shaving me?” Padma looked up quickly, trying to keep her tone light.
“Kutty… listen… already it was gone short, and it’s so hot these days. I thought, why not try something new? You were anyway watching that head shave scene only, pa.” But Trishika’s eyes had welled up, her lips trembling. “This is not funny, Amma,” she whispered, brushing her palm against her scalp again, feeling the patchy smoothness. Padma gently pulling her back. “Don’t cry da… it’s already half done now. Just let me finish properly. Please. Otherwise it will look bad. Trust Amma, okay?”
Trishika sniffled, wiping the corner of her eye. Padma dipped her fingers into the bowl of water again and continued slowly — scraping the remaining sections. Padma dipped her fingers into the bowl again, scooping a small amount of soap and rubbing it between her palms. “Let me just finish it neatly, kutty,” Padma said beginning to spread the foam over her daughter’s bald scalp. “You know, Nithya Menen did it for a film once, even Katrina kaif also said she’d try it someday.
It’s not a big deal anymore. And summer la, this is best.” She picked up the safety razor again and began the second round of shaving. Trishika’s tears rolled down her cheeks. She didn’t try to wipe them. Padma spoke softly, trying to keep the mood light. “No hair means no drying time… no tangles… no split ends,” she smiled. When the final patches were done Padma ran her palm over Trishika’s head once more feeling the smoothness.
They walked into the bathroom slowly. Padma turned on the tap, filled a steel bucket with warm water, and began undressing trishika with care. Trishika didn’t react. Padma simply poured a mug of warm water over her daughter’s bare shoulders, letting it run down slowly. She held Trishika’s chin softly, tilting her head up to rinse her face, then poured water gently over her scalp — again and again — until there was nothing left but calm silence and the soft trickling of water on tiles.
After wiping her dry with a towel, Padma brought in one of her rarest sarees — a deep maroon cotton with gold thread work that she wore only for festivals. “I’ve always wanted to see you in this,” she said, smiling gently. “Let’s try, no?” Trishika, still not speaking, allowed her mother to drape it over her body — one fold at a time, the pallu carefully pinned and adjusted. Padma guided her to the mirror. “There… now look,” she said, standing behind her. Trishika hesitated but slowly raised her eyes.
A bald girl in a traditional saree stared back — fresh-faced, bare-headed, and heartbreakingly quiet. Her collarbones stood out under the blouse, her eyes looked softer now, maybe tired, but something about her looked… striking. Padma rested her hands on Trishika’s shoulders and smiled through the mirror. “Look at that face. Bold and bright. You look like those women from the old photos — clean, proud. My kutty ponnu. You’re beautiful, da.”
Trishika looked at her mother’s reflection, then at her own.Trishika looked at her reflection — the smooth bald head, the crisp saree, the bare neck without even earrings. For a second, she didn’t recognize the girl staring back. But then, her lips curved slightly… a small, unexpected blush of a smile. Not from joy. Not from comfort. But something else entirely. Padma placed a hand on her head, voice soft. “Sorry pa… I shouldn’t have gone that far.
Amma made a mistake.” Trishika turned, hugged her silently, resting her head on her mother’s shoulder. Padma sighed in relief, thinking the moment had passed. But just over her shoulder, Trishika’s eyes gleamed faintly — and that smile returned. Not soft anymore. Sharper. Quiet. The kind that held a thought behind it. A thought that whispered: “Let’s see, Amma… let’s see.”
