Legendary Head Shave Tales
Poorna Chiyaan’s days often began with the buzz of scooters outside and the warm smell of filter coffee drifting from the kitchen. A second-year degree student at Bengaluru University, she lived in a modest apartment in Jayanagar with her amma, Mamitha, and her aacha, a quiet software engineer, came home only on weekends from his company’s client site in Whitefield. Poorna’s thick, mid-back hair—always tied into a neat, swinging ponytail—was something most of her classmates admired.
Once, while adjusting her ponytail in the mirror, she noticed her mother doing the same—pulling her hair up into a bun while fanning herself. Mamitha managed with ease, but even she looked mildly bothered by the stickiness. Poorna didn’t say anything, but that night, while scrolling through reels in bed, she paused at one—a girl beaming after a fresh boycut. The crisp edges, the lightness, the compliments stayed in her mind longer than she expected.
Every evening after college, she found herself lost in a loop of haircut transformation reels—girls smiling, running their fingers through breezy short hair, some getting bold pixies, others glowing after a soft summer trim. The more she watched, the more real it felt. She started imagining herself with lighter hair, a freer neck, and that airy look she kept seeing. One evening, at the kitchen, she casually said, “Amma, I’m thinking of getting a summer haircut.” Mamitha raised an eyebrow. “Summer haircut like a little trim or like a bob cut?”
Poorna smiled and shrugged, “Something short, let’s see.” Mamitha didn’t question much. The next morning, after her classes, Poorna walked into a small parlour. It had AC, nice music, and posters of women with perfect waves. But the moment she saw the rate card—₹550 for a basic cut—her face fell slightly, it felt too much. As she stepped out, she remembered the roadside barbershop near her home. She’d passed by it hundreds of times—always crowded, always noisy. But today, surprisingly, there were only two chairs occupied. The barber looked up, confused at first but politely asked,
“Haircut, madam?” She nodded. “Summer haircut… something short.” The barber smiled faintly, scanning her long ponytail. “We’ll go for a long summer boycut, not too short… you’ll look good, mol.” She bit her lip and gave a small nod. The cape settled snugly around her neck, and Poorna sat with a familiar smell of talcum powder, rusted scissors, and old aftershave. The barber, gently held her ponytail, twisted it once, and with a few quick snips, sliced it clean. Poorna’s breath hitched. She watched as the thick tail of her hair was placed on the floor.
A strange silence filled her chest. There was no going back now. The barber changed the trimmer guard, clicked it on and began buzzing the sides of her head. The low hum filled her ears, and she flinched slightly when the machine touched behind her right ear. She felt the air reach her skin raw and cool. She didn’t know if she should smile or panic. The top was trimmed shorter, a length she could still comb if she wanted. Then came the blade. The barber gently tilted her head forward.
Poorna felt the slow, careful scrape of the razor around her nape and sideburns. There was something oddly calming about it—like letting go. The cape was loosened, the barber dusted her neck and shoulders, and tapped a bit of powder on her fresh nape. She ran a hand through her head instinctively. She stood, paid the ₹100 note with a quiet “thank you,” and stepped out into the sunlight, the breeze greeting her bare neck. Poorna stepped into the house, her freshly cropped hair.
Mamitha turned from the kitchen and froze. “Ayyo, Poorna kutty! What is this?” she exclaimed, eyes wide. Poorna grinned and ran her fingers through her new cut. “Summer heat, amme. I wanted something easy.” Mamitha walked closer, touched her daughter’s head with mock disapproval, then laughed softly. “Manasilayo, now no one will borrow your comb.” That evening, Poorna sat by the balcony, enjoying the breeze brushing against her bare neck. The next morning, she looked in the mirror, and smiled at her reflection.
In college, her friends gasped, then burst into playful teasing and compliments. A few teachers smiled and said, “Bold look, Poorna.” She no longer needed long showers or heavy detangling. Over the next month, she felt lighter, freer—her hands often finding their way to her trimmed nape, as if greeting a new version of herself. One evening, as she sat on the floor oiling her mother’s hair, she said casually, “Amme… I think I’ll go for a trim this Friday.” Mamitha glanced at her, “Again?
You really liked it that much, kutty?” Poorna nodded, fingers brushing her own nape. “It just feels so easy, light… and it suits this heat.” Mamitha chuckled. “I was watching you. You’ve been so relaxed these days. No combing struggles, no complaints while drying.” She paused for a moment, then added, “Even I’ve started feeling my hair is becoming a handful.” Poorna looked up, surprised. “You want to try short too?” Mamitha raised an eyebrow, teasingly. “Not a mottai, but… maybe a summer haircut with you.” Poorna smiled wide.
“Shall we go together then?” Mamitha nodded, tying her hair into a loose bun. “This Friday, Lets go kutty”. The barbershop was quiet that afternoon, just like the last time. Poorna stepped in first, smiling at the barber, and said, “This time, two summer cuts, please.” Mamitha followed, adjusting her nighty, still a little unsure but smiling. Poorna nudged her gently. “You sit first, amme. Don’t run away now.” Mamitha laughed softly, “Ayyo, I won’t. As long as you don’t ask for a mottai.” Poorna grinned, “No promises. If you cry, I’ll take a video.”
The barber chuckled as he brought out the cape and draped it over Mamitha. “Same haircut for both?” he asked. Poorna nodded. “Short summer cut. Make it nice and easy for her.” The barber tilted his head. “Ah, buzzcut…” He combed through Mamitha’s thick hair gently, gathering it neatly. Mamitha closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in slow. The familiar hum of the trimmer started, softer than she expected, and Poorna leaned back, watching quietly, a small smile on her face. The trimmer buzzed softly as it moved across Mamitha’s crown with the guard number 1.
She glanced at the mirror and blinked. “Ayyo… this is shorter than I imagined,” she said with a nervous laugh. Poorna leaned in, teasing gently, “Not mottai, amme… but almost there.” The barber smiled, steady with his hands. Midway, he paused, removed the guard, and tilted Mamitha’s head slightly. “I’ll fade the sides, just like hers,” he said, The sound changed—closer, sharper. Mamitha flinched a little as she felt the cold air hit her skin. “So little hair left here,” she murmured, surprised. “Looks good, though,” Poorna replied, nodding. “Trust me, it suits you”
The barber continued, fading the edges evenly. Mamitha stayed quiet now, eyes watching her changing reflection. Poorna glanced at the barber and said, “Can you shave the lower part too? Just like mine last time.” he dabbed a bit of white lather around Mamitha’s nape and lower sides. The coolness made her inhale softly. The razor moved slowly, scraping gently, smooth strokes cleaning the last traces of stubble. Mamitha closed her eyes. The sound, the touch, the feeling—it was strange, “Feels good, kutty”
she whispered. Poorna grinned, “Told you. Now you look fresher than me.” The barber wiped her neck, dusted some powder, and removed the cape. Mamitha ran her fingers along the clean-shaven part, smiling without a word. Poorna sat on the chair next. “Same style,” she said simply, as the cape was tied again. The trimmer clicked on once more, and the same buzz began. The barber moved the trimmer steadily over Poorna’s head, the familiar hum filling once again. Her short hair from last time fell away quickly, and soon, the number 1 guard was gliding over her crown, neat and even.
He removed the guard and began fading the sides just like Mamitha’s. The bare trimmer made her skin tingle as it passed behind her ears. Poorna smiled, eyes half closed, enjoying the feeling she’d missed. The lather followed next—cool against her nape—then the gentle scrape of the razor, just as smooth and careful as before. A few minutes later, the cape came off, and Poorna stood up, brushing powder off her neck. The barber looked at them both, still smiling. “Two summer specials rs.200 madam.”
Mamitha pulled out the money before Poorna could say anything. “You earned it,” she said with a laugh, still running her hand over her clean sides. As they walked back home, the breeze touched their necks like a quiet welcome. “I still can’t believe I let you convince me,” Mamitha said. “And I still can’t believe you liked it,” Poorna replied, grinning. “It’s not bad,” Mamitha admitted. “This shave on the sides… ayyo, feels like I joined the mottai club.” Poorna laughed, “Next time, full mottai, amme?” Mamitha gave her a playful nudge.
“Kshamikanam, not yet!” , “if I go full mottai, people will think I took some vow!” “But imagine, so easy na?” Poorna said, touching her nape. “No hair at all, just clean head.” Mamitha chuckled, “Then we’ll need cap, scarf, and umbrella also—mottai care kit.” Poorna grinned, “Okay next summer, mottai for both confirmed?” Mamitha shook her head, “Let’s reach home first before you book us for temple shave!”Their laughter echoed softly down the lane as they walked side by side—lighter, cooler, and more connected than ever.
