Rajvishnu
Growing up in Mumbai, I always felt a deep connection to Lord Krishna, a devotion that seemed to grow stronger with every passing year. My family is traditional, and I was raised with the values and teachings of our faith, which made Krishna not just a deity, but a guide in my life. I found solace in His pastimes, spending hours reading and exploring stories about His divine play. Even as a child, I remember the sense of peace I felt while praying or meditating, and how it carried me through every challenge.
When I began studying medicine, life became more demanding. The long hours, endless study sessions, and sleepless nights were intense, but no matter how busy I got, I always carved out time to connect with Krishna. It became my lifeline. While others around me would unwind with music or movies, I found my escape in spiritual texts or discussions with friends who shared my passion for Krishna’s pastimes. These moments grounded me, giving me the strength to handle the pressures of medical school.
For me, medicine and spirituality were not separate. Studying the human body felt like a form of worship too, a deeper understanding of the life that Krishna Himself created. In my quiet moments, I often reflected on how intertwined both aspects of my life were—serving others through healing while nourishing my soul with devotion. My time at the temple or in prayer became even more precious as I juggled my studies. It was my way of keeping Krishna close, reminding me that, no matter where life took me, His presence was always there, guiding me forward.
I’ve always had this special connection with my dad. He’s a simple man, devoted to his faith, and for as long as I can remember, he kept his head shaved as a mark of his devotion. As a little girl, I used to sit beside him and run my fingers over his smooth scalp, fascinated by the feel of it. There was something calming about it, like it held a quiet strength. He never minded. In fact, he would laugh and say, “One day, you’ll understand why this feels so freeing.”
Growing up, I never thought much about my own hair. It was just there, growing long because my family believed in keeping traditions. But somewhere in the back of my mind, the idea of shaving my head—like my dad—began to take root. I didn’t talk about it, of course. How could I? In our family, women didn’t shave their heads, and I wasn’t sure how anyone would understand. Still, the thought stayed with me, almost like a secret longing that I didn’t fully understand myself.
During my college days, while everyone around me was busy experimenting with their looks, cutting or coloring their hair, I found myself drawn to something different. The idea of a shaved head, that simplicity, that purity—it called to me in a way I couldn’t explain. I’d often catch myself thinking about it during long study sessions or late at night, wondering how it would feel, how it would change me. But I kept it to myself, unsure of what it meant and knowing it would never be accepted, at least not then.
It felt like my own little secret, something I could carry quietly, while outwardly living the life of a diligent medical student. But deep down, the desire never left, only growing stronger as the years passed.
It had been a while since I last saw Raj, my cousin from Bangalore. We’d grown up together but drifted apart with the distance, him in the south and me in Mumbai. When we finally met again, after I had finished my medical studies, it felt like no time had passed at all. Raj had always been deeply spiritual, just like me, but when I saw him this time, something was different. His head was cleanly shaved, smooth and shining, a look I wasn’t used to seeing on him.
We sat down to catch up, and naturally, the conversation turned to spirituality. That’s when he told me about his vow to Lord Balaji, the deity he had become deeply devoted to. He explained how devotees often shave their heads as an offering, a sign of surrender and humility before the Lord. The story of Lord Balaji’s pastimes, and the significance of the act, fascinated me. People offered their hair as a symbol of their egos, their worldly attachments, and through this act, they came closer to the divine.
As Raj spoke, I couldn’t help but feel a deep resonance with his words. It was like something clicked inside me. My secret desire, which had lingered for so long, suddenly felt connected to something much bigger than myself. This wasn’t just about the physical act of shaving my head—it was about devotion, about surrendering to something greater, just as Lord Balaji’s devotees did.
I began to realize that my desire to shave my head wasn’t just a passing thought. It was tied to my spiritual journey, my longing to offer something significant to Krishna, or in this case, Balaji. The more Raj shared, the clearer it became. I wanted to make that offering too. It wasn’t just an act of personal expression—it was a vow. A vow of devotion and surrender.
I confided in Raj that I had always dreamed of shaving my head, but my family wouldn’t approve. He understood immediately, without me even having to explain much. He told me that such a vow, when done with pure intent, holds immense power. He encouraged me, saying that I would know when the right time came to fulfill it.
That night, I made a quiet vow to Lord Balaji. I promised that when the time was right, I would offer my hair, not just as an expression of my long-held desire, but as a token of my devotion. It would be my way of giving up a part of myself, surrendering to the divine, just as devotees had done for centuries.
A few months after my conversation with Raj, my family and I made a pilgrimage to Tirupati, one of the holiest places for devotees of Lord Balaji. I had always heard stories about the temple—the grandness of it, the thousands of devotees who came from all over India, many offering their hair as a sign of devotion. This trip felt significant to me, more so because of the quiet vow I had made in my heart.
As we approached the temple, I could feel the energy of the place—the chants, the devotion, the overwhelming presence of something divine. It was everything I had imagined and more. Everywhere I looked, I saw devotees who had just offered their hair, their heads freshly shaved and shining under the temple lights. It felt so pure, so humbling to see that level of surrender. I couldn’t stop thinking about my own desire, the vow I had made. I wanted nothing more than to take that step, to offer my hair to Lord Balaji.
But when I brought it up to my mother, her response was what I feared. She didn’t approve. In her eyes, women in our family didn’t shave their heads. It was a tradition for men, not for us. I could see the firmness in her decision, and though I wanted to argue, I didn’t. I had never gone against her wishes before, and this moment didn’t feel like the right time to start. So, I let it go—for now. We continued with the darshan, offering our prayers, but there was a quiet longing in my heart that remained unanswered.
As we left the temple, I saw the thousands of devotees walking around with their freshly shaved heads, their faces glowing with peace and devotion. It stirred something deep within me. I couldn’t help but wonder, “When will it be my turn? When will my prayers be answered?”
Even though I didn’t shave my head that day, something inside me shifted. I knew this was just the beginning. My desire had only grown stronger, and I was certain that one day, I would fulfill my vow. Until then, I carried that prayer with me, trusting that the right moment would come.
After returning from Tirupati with my heart still full of unfulfilled desires, I found myself at a crossroads. My longing to fulfill my vow to Lord Balaji had grown stronger, and yet, the limitations of my circumstances kept holding me back. I knew my mother wouldn’t approve, and while I respected her deeply, I also knew that this spiritual journey was mine to walk. I needed space to grow, to find my own path. That’s when I decided to make a big move—both for my career and for myself.
I applied for a position as a duty doctor with the NHS in London, a job I had been considering for a while. When the offer came through, it felt like fate. Moving to London would not only allow me to further my medical career but also give me the freedom to explore the spiritual side of myself that I had kept hidden for so long. I realized that distance from home might give me the courage to take the steps I needed to fulfill my vow.
Saying goodbye to my parents was hard, especially knowing I was carrying this secret desire with me, but I reassured them I would visit often. Once in London, everything felt different—exciting and new. My job as a duty doctor kept me busy, the long hours leaving little time to dwell on my personal thoughts. Yet, even in the hustle of the hospital, my mind would often drift back to that quiet vow I made to Lord Balaji. The desire to shave my head, to offer my hair in devotion, never left me.
Though my new life in London was fast-paced, the seed that had been planted long ago in Tirupati continued to grow. I knew that with this new freedom, I could finally take the steps toward fulfilling the vow I had held close to my heart for so long.
Life in London was fast-paced, and I quickly found myself swept up in the demands of being a duty doctor with the NHS. The hospital was always bustling with activity—patients constantly coming in, emergencies that needed immediate attention, and long shifts that blurred the lines between day and night. The work was fulfilling, but it left me with little time for anything else. I’d often leave the hospital exhausted, only to come back the next day and do it all over again.
London itself was a whirlwind of experiences—new faces, different cultures, and a city that never seemed to sleep. But even with all the excitement around me, I found myself missing the simplicity of home, the quiet moments of prayer, and the time I used to spend deepening my connection with Lord Krishna. Here, amidst the chaos, I felt something was missing.
I tried to hold on to my routine of prayer, but the long hours at work often made it difficult to find time for the spiritual practices that used to center me. Still, in quiet moments, even between patients or during my brief breaks, my thoughts would drift back to my vow. I remembered my time in Tirupati, the thousands of shaved heads, and the prayer I carried with me, unanswered but ever-present.
The desire to shave my head, to offer my hair to Lord Balaji, was still there, growing stronger each day. But with my busy schedule, I pushed it to the back of my mind. I knew, though, that no matter how hectic life became, that longing would never fade. Even as I navigated my new life in London, balancing my career and the challenges of a foreign city, the thought of fulfilling my vow lingered—patient, waiting for the right moment to come.
A few months into my life in London, I received news that lifted my spirits—Raj, my cousin and closest confidant, was moving to London as well. Having him here, someone who understood my spiritual journey, was a comfort I didn’t realize I needed. We reconnected quickly, and it felt like no time had passed since we last spoke about Lord Balaji and the vow that I had carried in my heart for so long.
One evening, while catching up over dinner, Raj mentioned that he had heard about a Lord Balaji temple in East Ham, a part of London with a strong Indian community. My heart leaped at the mention of it. A temple dedicated to Lord Balaji, right here in London? It felt like a sign—a reminder that even though I was far from home, my spiritual path was still unfolding, and this might be the next step.
Raj suggested we visit the temple together, and without hesitation, I agreed. There was something about the idea of going there that made me feel as though everything was falling into place. The temple wasn’t just a place of worship—it felt like it could be the space where I would finally fulfill my vow, offering my devotion to Lord Balaji in the way I had always dreamed.
The thought stayed with me, and in the days leading up to our visit, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was where my journey was meant to continue.
The day we visited the Lord Balaji temple in East Ham was nothing short of magical. As we stepped inside, I was enveloped by the warm atmosphere that felt both familiar and comforting. The vibrant colors of the temple, the fragrant incense, and the sounds of devotion—everything reminded me of home. It felt like I had stepped into a little corner of India, right in the heart of London.
The temple was bustling with activity, and I was thrilled to see so many people from the Indian community coming together in worship. Families were gathered, children were playing, and the air buzzed with a sense of shared culture and spirituality. After offering our prayers, Raj and I strolled around the area, soaking in the vibrant atmosphere.
As we explored, we came across a variety of Indian restaurants, clothing shops, and even salons. My heart raced when I noticed one of the salons had a sign advertising hair offerings. It felt like fate. The excitement bubbled up within me, and I couldn’t help but express my thoughts to Raj.
“I can’t believe there’s a salon right next to the temple,” I said, my eyes shining. “Just imagine sitting there, getting my head shaved as an offering to Lord Balaji. It feels like everything I’ve dreamed of is coming together!”
Raj smiled, understanding my enthusiasm. “It really does feel like the universe is aligning for you. If this is where you want to fulfill your vow, I’ll be here with you every step of the way.”
The idea of actually going through with it felt more tangible than ever. The energy of the temple, combined with the presence of my cousin, made me feel supported and empowered. I knew that this was the place where I could finally take that leap of faith. The thought of surrendering my hair as a sign of devotion filled me with anticipation. It felt right. My journey was finally leading me to the moment I had been waiting for.
After our visit to the temple in East Ham, I felt a renewed sense of determination. The experience had been so uplifting, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was the right time to finally fulfill my vow. But I knew that I still had one important step to take: talking to my parents.
That evening, I gathered my thoughts and prepared myself for the conversation. I felt a mix of excitement and apprehension. My parents had always held strong beliefs about traditions, especially concerning women in our family. However, I hoped that the clarity and conviction in my heart would shine through.
When I called them, I spoke from my heart. I shared how visiting the temple had deepened my connection to Lord Balaji and how witnessing the devotion of others had inspired me to embrace my own path. I explained that my desire to shave my head was not just a fleeting wish, but a solemn vow I had made—a way to express my devotion and surrender to the divine.
To my surprise, my parents listened intently. There was a pause after I finished speaking, and my heart raced as I waited for their response. Then, slowly, my mother began to understand. “If this is truly your desire, and it means so much to you, then perhaps we should reconsider,” she said gently. “It’s important for us to honor your spiritual journey.”
My father chimed in, expressing his support as well. “We trust your judgment, Krishno. If this is something that will bring you closer to your faith and fulfill your vow to Lord Balaji, we will respect your choice.”
A wave of relief washed over me, and I could hardly contain my happiness. I thanked them profusely, overwhelmed by their understanding and love. Finally, after all these years, I had the approval to take this step. It felt like the culmination of everything I had been longing for.
I hung up the phone, my heart swelling with gratitude and excitement. With my parents’ blessing, I knew I was ready to go through with my plan. The next step in my journey awaited me, and I felt a profound sense of peace knowing I was honoring both my faith and my family.
With my parents’ blessing, Raj and I eagerly set a date for my long-awaited shave. We decided on a full moon day in the month of Karthika, a time that is considered especially auspicious for spiritual practices and offerings. The significance of this timing added another layer of meaning to the occasion, making it feel even more special.
In the days leading up to our visit, my heart was filled with joy and anticipation. I couldn’t stop thinking about what this moment would mean for me—the fulfillment of a vow, a deepening of my devotion, and a release from the weight of my secret desire. Each passing day felt like a countdown, bringing me closer to the moment I had dreamed of for so long.
Raj and I spent those days preparing for the visit. We talked about what to expect, and he shared stories of other devotees who had offered their hair as a mark of devotion. Each story filled me with inspiration and resolve, reinforcing my belief that this was the right step for me.
We made a list of everything we needed for the day: flowers for the temple, fruits for the offering, and a small token to leave at the altar. I also decided to wear my favorite traditional outfit, feeling that it would honor the occasion. As the day drew closer, I felt a wave of happiness wash over me.
I imagined the moment of sitting in the salon, surrounded by the warmth of devotion, feeling the cool air against my freshly shaved scalp, and knowing that I was offering a part of myself to Lord Balaji. It was a release, a surrender, and a celebration all at once.
On the eve of the full moon, I couldn’t sleep. My mind danced with thoughts and emotions—excitement, anticipation, and a profound sense of gratitude. I felt that everything was finally aligning, and I was ready to embrace this new chapter in my life. The next day would mark a turning point, and I knew it would be a day I would carry in my heart forever.
On the day of the full moon in Karthika month, I woke up with a sense of exhilaration coursing through me. The anticipation of what was about to unfold filled me with joy. Raj and I made our way to the temple, the sun shining brightly as if blessing our journey.
As we arrived at the temple, I could feel the energy buzzing around us—devotees coming and going, prayers being offered, and the scent of flowers in the air. It was a beautiful atmosphere, and I was filled with gratitude for the opportunity to finally take this step.
After our prayers at the temple, we walked over to the local Indian salon right next door. The familiarity of the place, adorned with vibrant colors and the sound of Bollywood music playing softly in the background, felt welcoming. I took a deep breath as we stepped inside, my heart racing with excitement and nerves.
The barber, an older gentleman with a kind smile, greeted us warmly. As I explained my intention to shave my head, he nodded in understanding, recognizing the significance of the moment. “Are you ready for this?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with encouragement.
With a resolute nod, I replied, “Yes, I’ve been waiting for this moment for years.”
As I settled into the chair at the salon, the barber began to prepare for the shave with practiced ease. He draped a warm towel around my shoulders, the soft fabric providing a sense of comfort amidst my bubbling excitement. The aroma of sandalwood soap filled the air, enhancing the sacred atmosphere I felt within the salon.
“Shaving the head is a significant act in our culture,” the barber said, his voice calm and steady as he lathered my scalp with warm shaving cream. “For many, it symbolizes a new beginning, a shedding of the old, and a commitment to spiritual growth. It’s not just about removing hair; it’s about making space for new energy and intentions.”
I nodded, my heart swelling with anticipation. “That’s exactly how I feel. I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. It’s a vow I made to Lord Balaji, and it means everything to me.”
With a knowing smile, the barber took a deep breath and began the shave. The first stroke of the straight razor glided smoothly over the top of my head, and I could feel the coolness of the blade against my skin. It was a sensation I had never experienced before—both exhilarating and surreal.
As he moved to the back of my head, the barber continued, “This part is especially significant. Here, we let go of burdens that weigh us down—past regrets, fears, and doubts. It’s an opportunity to start fresh, just like the new moon brings the promise of new beginnings.” He expertly navigated the curves of my head, each stroke deliberate and gentle.
The razor slid down the back of my scalp, and I felt lighter with every pass. “How long have you been shaving heads for this purpose?” I asked, curious about his experience.
“Over twenty years,” he replied, his eyes reflecting a deep wisdom. “I’ve seen many people transform through this process. It’s humbling to witness. Each head tells a story, and every shave is a unique journey of faith.”
As he moved to the sides of my head, I closed my eyes, surrendering to the experience. The sound of the razor gliding over my scalp, mixed with the soft chatter from outside the salon, created a meditative environment. I could almost hear the chants of the temple in the background, a reminder of the sacred promise I was fulfilling.
The barber carefully worked along the sides, the razor gliding effortlessly against my skin. “Remember,” he said as he finished with the sides, “this is not just about losing your hair. It’s about gaining something far more precious—spiritual clarity and connection. You’re making an offering, and that act of devotion is powerful.”
As the barber finished shaving the sides of my head, he turned his attention to the delicate task of cleaning up the fine hair around my cheeks and upper lip. With steady hands, he lathered those areas with a bit more shaving cream, ensuring that my skin was smooth and ready for the final touches.
“Now, this part is important,” he said, his voice calm and focused. “Removing these hairs helps create a clean, polished look. It symbolizes clarity and renewal.”
He expertly glided the straight razor along my cheek, the blade moving with precision and care. I could feel the coolness of the metal as it swept across my skin, and I held my breath, feeling a mix of excitement and serenity. With each stroke, I sensed that I was not just changing my appearance but also embracing a new chapter in my life.
He moved to the other cheek, repeating the process with the same gentle expertise. “Many people find that this moment of shaving brings a sense of liberation,” he explained, his eyes focused on the task. “It’s an act of devotion and a commitment to your spiritual journey.”
Next, he carefully worked on my upper lip, taking his time to ensure that every inch was smooth and free of hair. “This is about attention to detail,” he continued, his hands steady. “Every aspect of this shave matters as you prepare to embrace your new self.”
With the final stroke of the razor, he wiped away the remaining lather and carefully inspected his work. “There you go,” he said, stepping back to allow me to see my reflection. “You are now completely transformed.”
I gazed into the mirror, my heart racing. The sight of my bald head and the freshly shaven skin around my cheeks and upper lip filled me with joy. It was a moment of liberation, and I felt a profound connection to my vow and to Lord Balaji.
“Welcome to your new beginning,” the barber said with a warm smile, wiping my scalp clean one last time. I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for this moment, the barber’s gentle guidance, and the spiritual journey that lay ahead. I left the salon not just with a shaved head, but with a renewed sense of purpose and an open heart, ready to embrace the path that awaited me.
As I gazed at my reflection in the mirror, a flood of emotions washed over me. My scalp, now completely smooth, glistened under the soft lights of the salon. I ran my fingers over the freshly shaved surface, marveling at the sensation of coolness and lightness. For the first time in my life, I saw myself with no hair—exactly how I had imagined this moment for years. But the reality was even more profound.
I felt liberated, like a weight had been lifted not just from my head but from my heart as well. There was something deeply spiritual in the simplicity of my new bald look, something pure. It was as if I had shed more than just my hair—I had let go of lingering doubts, fears, and attachments that had once held me back. In the reflection, I saw a version of myself that was more aligned with my deepest desires and my vow to Lord Balaji. It was humbling and empowering all at once.
Before I could say anything, Raj stood behind me, beaming with pride. “You look amazing, Krishno,” he said, pulling me into a tight hug. I could feel his support and warmth, and it made the moment even more special. He had been with me throughout this entire journey, and I couldn’t have asked for a better companion.
“I’ve never felt this free,” I whispered, still touching my smooth scalp, unable to believe how light my head felt. I had imagined this moment countless times, but the actual experience was beyond anything I could have prepared for.
As if inspired by the moment, Raj smiled and said, “Well, it’s my turn too!” He hadn’t shaved in two weeks, and his stubble had grown quite thick. Without hesitation, he sat in the same chair, and the barber quickly shaved his head as well, the razor gliding over his scalp in swift strokes. Soon, we both stood there, looking at each other, our heads completely bald.
We laughed and embraced again, the joy of the moment bubbling over. Then, on a whim, we both pulled out our phones and took selfies together—our first photos with matching bald heads, smiling ear to ear. We couldn’t stop laughing as we playfully touched each other’s heads, feeling the smoothness of our freshly shaven scalps. It felt like such a lighthearted celebration of our shared devotion and this transformative moment.
“Look at us!” Raj said with a grin, “We finally did it.”
We left the salon, still buzzing with excitement, and headed to the nearby hotel where we had booked a room to freshen up after the shave. As we stepped into the room, I couldn’t stop running my hands over my head, still fascinated by the sensation. The smoothness, the coolness—it all felt surreal, but in the best possible way.
Stepping into the shower with my newly shaved head was an experience unlike anything I’d ever felt before. As the warm water cascaded over my scalp, it was as though I could feel every single droplet, each one cool and soothing against my bare skin. The sensation was exhilarating—there was no hair to absorb the water, so it simply flowed smoothly over my scalp, enhancing the feeling of freedom. I closed my eyes, allowing the water to run over me, relishing the pure, refreshing touch. It felt like a complete cleanse, not just physically, but spiritually as well, washing away any lingering doubts or attachments.
I lingered a little longer under the stream, gently rubbing my scalp with my fingers, savoring the smoothness and the coolness that felt so foreign yet deeply right. It was as if my connection with my body had changed; I felt more in tune, more present, and every touch on my head brought a smile to my face.
After drying off, I carefully picked out one of my favorite traditional Indian outfits—a soft, elegant churidhar in a rich, deep blue color. The fabric hugged my body comfortably as I slipped into it, and the contrast of the bold color against my freshly shaved scalp felt powerful, like I was embodying a new version of myself. I carefully accessorized, adding gold jhumka earrings that swung gently as I moved, and a delicate gold chain around my neck.
I stood in front of the mirror, placing a small red bindi on my forehead, completing the look with a final touch. My bald head was now fully exposed, a stark and beautiful contrast to the vibrant outfit and the jewels I wore. The absence of hair only seemed to enhance the elegance of the earrings and the brightness of the bindi.
For a moment, I stared at myself in awe. The bald head, the traditional outfit, the jewels—it all came together in a way that felt more like me than I had ever imagined. I didn’t feel bare; I felt adorned by my devotion and my decision. The simplicity of my shaved scalp seemed to enhance my inner strength, and I smiled at the reflection staring back at me.
As I stood there, dressed in the outfit that reminded me of home and the traditions I cherished, I felt an incredible blend of pride, fulfillment, and connection to the path I had chosen. I was no longer hiding or waiting for the right moment. The time had come, and I had embraced it fully.
Raj knocked on the door, and when I opened it, his eyes lit up. “You look incredible, Krishno,” he said, taking in the sight of my bald head and traditional attire.
“Thank you,” I smiled, my heart full. I felt radiant, confident, and more aligned with my true self than ever before.
Together, we walked out of the hotel, my bare scalp catching the light as we made our way toward the temple once more. The breeze felt refreshing against my smooth head, a constant reminder of the transformation I had embraced. Every step felt like a step deeper into my spiritual journey, and I couldn’t have felt more at peace with myself and the path ahead.
After leaving the hotel, Raj and I made our way to the temple in East Ham, my bald head catching the light of the sun with every step. There was a distinct sense of anticipation within me—this was the moment I had been preparing for. My heart raced, not with nervousness, but with pure excitement and devotion.
The temple stood tall and welcoming, the air filled with the scent of incense and the soft hum of prayers. We removed our shoes, feeling the coolness of the stone beneath our feet as we entered. The atmosphere inside was deeply spiritual, and I could feel the vibrations of devotion from the community around me. It felt like stepping into a piece of home—a sanctuary amidst the bustling life of London.
The darshan hall was peaceful yet powerful, and as we walked closer to the main sanctum, I felt my heart swell with emotion. Before us stood the beautiful deities—Mother Lakshmi, resplendent in her divine grace, and Lord Balaji, radiating strength and compassion. Their forms were adorned with flowers and jewels, their expressions calm and serene.
I stood there in awe, my eyes locked onto the deity of Lord Balaji, to whom I had offered my hair in devotion. This moment, standing before Him with my newly shaved head, felt like the culmination of years of longing and surrender. My vow had been fulfilled.
Raj and I sat down in front of the deity, joining the other devotees who were deep in their own prayers. The air was thick with the sounds of mantras and soft chanting, and I closed my eyes, allowing myself to fully immerse in the divine energy that surrounded me. I began to chant softly, the names of Lord Balaji and Mother Lakshmi flowing from my lips in rhythm with my heartbeat.
“Om Namo Venkatesaya… Om Namo Narayanaya…”
The repetition of the sacred mantras felt like a cleansing, purifying every corner of my being. Each word I uttered carried my devotion, my gratitude, and my surrender. My head, freshly shaved, felt like a direct connection to the divine, as though the very act of shaving had removed barriers between myself and this moment of profound spiritual clarity.
The minutes turned into hours as Raj and I sat there, eyes closed, our chants merging with those of the other devotees. Time felt irrelevant; it was as though the world outside had disappeared, leaving only this sacred space and the presence of the deities before us.
I felt a deep sense of peace wash over me—a peace I hadn’t known in years. It was as if my soul had finally found its home in this act of devotion, in this sacred offering. The weight of everything—the years of desire, the journey to London, the shave, the conversations with my parents—melted away in the presence of Lord Balaji and Mother Lakshmi. All that remained was pure, unfiltered devotion.
As I opened my eyes and looked up at the deities once more, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. My prayers had been answered—not just the ones I had spoken, but the silent ones I had held in my heart for so long.
Raj glanced at me, his eyes filled with understanding. We had both experienced something profound in those few hours of chanting and darshan. Together, we bowed low in front of the deities, offering our final prayers before we left the sanctum. As we stepped back out into the world, I felt lighter, freer, and more connected to my path than ever before.
After spending those spiritually enriching hours at the temple, Raj and I decided to head to a nearby restaurant to have a peaceful meal. We found a cozy place that served traditional Jain food, known for its simplicity and purity, which felt perfect after the day we had just experienced.
As we sat down, the soft lighting in the restaurant cast a warm glow on our smooth, bald heads. I could feel the coolness of the air on my scalp, a constant reminder of the transformation I had just gone through. The server, noticing our freshly shaved heads, gave us a respectful nod—perhaps recognizing the act of devotion. We ordered a simple yet satisfying Jain meal: sabzi, dal, roti, and some rice. The flavors were rich but pure, nourishing us in the same way our temple visit had nourished our spirits.
As we waited for our food, I decided it was finally time to show my parents my new look. I had already spoken with them about my decision, and while they were initially hesitant, they had come to understand the depth of my devotion and the significance of my vow. But seeing it in person—or on a video call—was something else.
With a deep breath, I opened the video call app on my phone and dialed home. My heart raced a little, but I felt ready. The screen lit up with my mother’s face, her warm, familiar expression instantly calming my nerves.
“Hi, Ma!” I greeted her with a smile, feeling a surge of emotion.
My mother’s eyes widened as she took in the sight of my bald head, her hand instinctively covering her mouth. For a moment, she was silent, and I could see the tears welling up in her eyes. My father, who appeared beside her, was equally quiet, but there was a softness in his gaze, one of acceptance and love.
“Krishno…” my mother finally whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You really did it.”
I nodded, feeling a lump in my throat. “Yes, Ma. I did it. It was for Lord Balaji, like I promised.”
There was a brief pause, and then a single tear rolled down her cheek. But it wasn’t a tear of sadness—it was one of understanding. She wiped it away quickly, and I could see her face soften as she composed herself.
“I know,” she said, her voice steadier now. “I know how important this was to you. It’s just… seeing you like this is different. But I can see how happy you are. And that’s all that matters.”
Her words filled me with relief and gratitude. I knew how much she had struggled with the idea of me shaving my head, but now I could see that she had truly come to accept it, to accept my path.
“You look beautiful,” she added, her eyes glistening, but this time with a smile. “Your devotion shines through.”
My father, who had been quiet, finally spoke. “We’re proud of you, beta. You’ve always followed your heart.”
I smiled at them both, feeling an overwhelming sense of love and connection. “Thank you. I feel at peace, and I’m so glad you both understand.”
We talked for a few more minutes, sharing updates and small talk about the day, and soon enough, my mother was back to her usual self, asking about Raj and reminding me to take care of my health in London. It felt like a return to normalcy, a reminder that no matter the changes I went through, my parents’ love and support would always remain constant.
After we hung up, I let out a deep sigh of relief, feeling lighter. Raj looked at me and smiled. “How did it go?”
“Better than I could have imagined,” I said, smiling back. “Ma had tears at first, but she understands now.”
The food arrived, and as we started eating, I felt an immense sense of fulfillment—not just from the meal, but from the entire day. I had finally embraced the path I had always known was mine, and everything, from the temple visit to the call with my parents, had fallen perfectly into place
After finishing our meal, Raj and I made our way back to our home, both of us feeling content and peaceful. The day had been so full—emotionally, spiritually, and even physically—that by the time we arrived, all I could think about was lying down and processing everything. We entered the house, the quiet atmosphere providing a stark contrast to the bustling day we’d just experienced.
As soon as I lay down on my bed, I felt the softness of the pillow against my freshly shaved scalp, a feeling that was still so new, yet comforting. My mind began to replay the events of the day—the moment I sat in the barber’s chair, the sound of the razor gliding across my head, the satisfaction of feeling my scalp so smooth and free, and the overwhelming joy that followed when I saw my bald reflection for the first time.
I closed my eyes, letting the memories flow freely. The visit to the temple played back in vivid detail: standing before Lord Balaji, feeling the coolness of my scalp as I offered my prayers, the chants echoing in the hall, and the sense of deep peace that settled in my heart during those hours of devotion. It was a day of transformation—both external and internal—and it felt like I had stepped into the path I had always meant to follow.
Lying there, I smiled softly to myself, my fingers gently grazing my scalp as if to reassure myself that yes, it had really happened. This wasn’t just a dream; it was real. The journey I had longed for had been fulfilled, and my vow to Lord Balaji had been completed with love and devotion.
“Thank you, Lord,” I whispered, my thoughts now a quiet prayer. “Thank you for guiding me, for giving me the strength to fulfill my vow, and for blessing me with this beautiful day.” The gratitude welled up in my heart, overflowing into every corner of my being.
As I rested, a peaceful calm washed over me. The day had been everything I had hoped for and more—each moment, from the barbershop to the temple darshan, felt like a divine plan unfolding perfectly. I knew this was just the beginning of a deeper spiritual journey, one where I could walk with more confidence and faith, knowing that I had taken this important step.
Soon, I drifted into a restful sleep, my heart full of gratitude, knowing that this was one of the most beautiful days of my life, one I would cherish forever.
The next morning, as the soft light of dawn filtered into my room, I woke up feeling refreshed. Instinctively, my hand went to my head, and as I touched my scalp, I noticed it wasn’t as smooth as it had been the previous day. It felt rough, like sandpaper—a stark contrast to the silky smoothness I had reveled in after the shave. Confused, I sat up, rubbing my head again, wondering what had happened.
Immediately, I picked up my phone and called Raj. He answered quickly, sounding groggy from sleep.
“Raj, good morning,” I said, my voice a mix of concern and curiosity. “I just woke up, and my head feels… rough, like sandpaper. Why isn’t it smooth anymore?”
Raj chuckled softly on the other end, clearly amused by my sudden concern. “Ah, that’s normal,” he said. “It’s because the tiny stubble starts to grow back overnight. It happens, especially after a close shave. You’ll need to shave it regularly to keep it smooth.”
I nodded, taking in his words. “So how do I keep it smooth like yesterday? I loved how it felt after the shave.”
“Don’t worry,” he reassured me. “I’ll guide you through it. Just grab a fresh razor and some shaving cream. You’ll get the hang of it in no time.”
Following his instructions, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, razor and shaving cream in hand. Raj patiently guided me through each step over the phone—applying the cream generously over my scalp, using slow, careful strokes with the razor, and ensuring that I covered every inch of my head.
“Start with the top of your head, and move the razor gently downwards,” Raj advised. “Then work on the back and sides. Just take your time. It’s all about precision.”
I followed his guidance, slowly moving the razor across my scalp. The sensation was just as satisfying as it had been in the barbershop. The roughness melted away with each stroke, and soon, my head felt smooth once again. I could feel the coolness of my scalp, the same freshness from the day before.
“How does it feel now?” Raj asked after a few minutes.
I ran my hand over my head, smiling at the smoothness. “Perfect,” I replied. “Just like yesterday. Thank you for guiding me.”
“Anytime, Krishno,” he said. “You’ll get used to it. Just make it part of your routine if you want to keep it shaved.”
After finishing the shave, I took a moment to appreciate the smoothness once more before stepping into my prayer room for my daily sadhana. Sitting there with my freshly shaved head, I felt a renewed sense of clarity as I began chanting. My connection with the divine felt stronger, like each mantra resonated deeper within me, unhindered by anything external. The simple act of shaving had become a part of my spiritual practice, a way to stay grounded and focused.
Once my sadhana was complete, I dressed for work and headed to the hospital. As I walked through the corridors of the NHS, I could feel eyes turning in my direction. Colleagues, nurses, and even patients stared in surprise—they had never seen me like this before. I smiled inwardly, knowing this was a part of my journey, a reflection of my devotion.
One of my colleagues approached me with a wide-eyed expression. “Krishno… you shaved your head!” she exclaimed, clearly stunned.
I smiled back confidently. “Yes, I did. It was a spiritual decision, part of a vow I made.”
She nodded, still processing the change. “You look… amazing. Very bold and powerful.”
“Thank you,” I said, feeling more at ease now. The initial stares and surprise didn’t bother me. I felt liberated, like I had stepped into a new version of myself, and it was clear to everyone around me.
As the day went on, the surprise wore off, and the conversations shifted back to work. But for me, every time I touched my smooth scalp, I was reminded of the deeper journey I was on, and the strength I felt from staying true to myself. It was a new chapter in my life, and I was ready to embrace it fully.
As the months passed, keeping my head shaved became a regular part of my life. The ritual of shaving my head, once a daunting thought, had now become a peaceful routine. Every few days, I would sit with a fresh razor, letting the soft glide of the blade over my scalp remind me of the vow I had made to Lord Balaji. It was no longer just about the physical act—it had become a spiritual practice, a symbol of my detachment from the external and my growing connection to the divine.
With each shave, I felt lighter, freer. My attachment to my hair, once something I never really thought much about, had dissolved entirely. What remained was a sense of clarity and peace, both in my spiritual and everyday life. I felt my devotion deepen, my prayers becoming more focused, my sadhana more meaningful. The act of shaving had become a reflection of the inner transformation I was experiencing—shedding layers of attachment and ego, embracing simplicity and surrender.
In my professional life, too, I found a new sense of purpose. As a bald doctor, I became somewhat of a curiosity at first, but soon, my appearance became a symbol of strength and confidence. Patients and colleagues alike admired my decision, many of them asking about the spiritual journey that had led me to this path. I found myself inspiring those around me—not just with my skills as a doctor, but with the story behind my look.
Women, especially, would often approach me, curious and sometimes amazed by my choice to keep my head shaved. Many of them would share their own struggles with societal expectations, their own battles with beauty standards, and how my decision to embrace this unconventional look gave them the courage to question their own attachments. I had never imagined that something as simple as shaving my head could have such a profound impact, but it did. Slowly, I became a symbol of empowerment—showing that beauty, strength, and spirituality can be redefined on one’s own terms.
As time went on, my career flourished as well. The confidence I gained from staying true to myself and my beliefs extended to my work. I rose in my role at the NHS, gaining the respect of my colleagues and patients for my dedication and expertise. I took on new responsibilities, mentoring younger doctors and leading important medical initiatives. I found myself in a position where I could make a real difference in the lives of others—not just as a doctor, but as someone who lived authentically.
The culmination of all this came when I was recognized with an award for my outstanding service in the medical field. It was a humbling moment, standing on stage, receiving the honor while thousands applauded. I knew that the recognition wasn’t just for my medical achievements, but also for the deeper journey I had undertaken—a journey of devotion, detachment, and inner growth.
Looking back, I realized that my decision to shave my head had been about so much more than just a vow to Lord Balaji. It had been the start of a new chapter in my life, one that allowed me to embrace my true self, inspire others, and grow both spiritually and professionally. I had found a deep peace, a sense of purpose, and a clarity that would guide me for the rest of my life.
As I stood there on that stage, bald and proud, I silently thanked the Lord for guiding me on this path. I knew that my journey was far from over—there were still many lives to touch, lessons to learn, and prayers to offer. But in that moment, I felt an immense gratitude for everything that had brought me here, and a quiet excitement for all that was yet to come
