Legendary Head Shave Tales
Anji was fresh into the reporting world — new ID card around his neck, messy hair, and a bike that made more noise than speed. He joined a small local news channel as a junior reporter and already believed he was born for “breaking news.” Half his day went behind chasing random stories, and the other half behind annoying his brother-in-law with his “media logic.” Confident, loud, and full of funny ideas, Anji wasn’t the coolest in the room, but definitely the smartest. His life took a turn one afternoon when he saw her for the first time.
Anjali, a software employee, second floor, strict face, and hair that touched her knees. She passed by the office cafeteria without looking at anyone, and Anji just froze. “Abba… hair length ki half kilometer undi,” he whispered, jaw open. From that moment, his entire journalism spirit was focused on her. He tried small things — opening the door, offering to carry files. But Anjali? Straight face. “Did I ask you?” she snapped once and walked off. That should’ve been a warning. But for Anji, it was motivation.
He started timing his breaks with hers, finding excuses to pass by her floor, He found out from office gossip that Anjali’s mother, Lakshmi aunty, was a home beautician. That was it — the plan formed instantly. Next Sunday, wearing his press ID like a badge of honour, Anji showed up at their house saying he was covering “talented home beauticians of Hyderabad.” Lakshmi aunty was thrilled. “Me? TV lo?” she asked, eyes wide. “Why not?” Anji replied, buttering her nonstop. “You have golden hands, aunty. Let the world see your magic.”
He smoothly convinced her to demonstrate a haircut on Anjali. Poor Anjali stared at him like he was the villain of her life. “Amma, nuvvu serious ga?” she whispered. Lakshmi nodded proudly and made her sit. The scissors came out, Anji sat down to ‘record’ the process, and the first haircut — a feather cut — began. Surprisingly, it turned out decent. Anji, watching her long strands fall, whispered to himself, “News edit chesthanu later, heart edit avuthondi ippude.”
Lakshmi aunty was fully in her zone, acting like she was prepping a celebrity client. She dusted her old comb set twice, clicked the scissors in the air for no reason, Anjali sat on the chair with a towel around her, clearly not happy but not saying anything either — just tight lips and sharp eyes. “Bro,” Anji whispered to Srinu, who had the camera on, “aunty’s pose is like anchor Suma before going into ad break.” Srinu chuckled softly, “Tools kanna attitude ekkuva bro.” Lakshmi combed Anjali’s long, knee-length hair all the way down with both hands.
Then she took a deep breath, snipped the first chunk with a dramatic sound — the long strands fell to the floor slowly. Srinu gasped lightly, “Ayyo… courage auntiki full power.” Lakshmi continued shaping the feather cut, randomly muttering, “Little layers here, soft ends there…” while Anjali closed her eyes, almost meditating. Anji leaned to Srinu and whispered, “She’s losing inches… but I’m losing my heart.” After 15 minutes, Lakshmi stepped back with a proud smile. “Hollywood style feather cut! See the bounce!”
she said, showing off like it was a big makeover. Anji clapped politely, turned to Srinu and mumbled, “Hollywood ki cut cheyyali anthe, Tollywood lo scene vesaru.” A few days later at the office, Anjali, already irritated from her piled-up work, snapped at a colleague for no big reason. But her actual frustration was stuck on one person — Anji. She saw him joking near the pantry and rolled her eyes hard enough to sprain them. Still, Anji didn’t flinch. “Pain is temporary, love is permanent,” he told himself dramatically and that very evening,
landed at her house again with Srinu and a new excuse. “Aunty, viewers loved your last haircut, we need one more episode!” he announced like a TRP king. Lakshmi aunty, thrilled beyond reason, called it “part 2 of my beauty journey” and pulled Anjali once again to the chair. “Amma please… not again,” Anjali whispered. “It’s just butterfly cut. You’ll look younger,” Lakshmi said with a sweet strict tone. Anji stood quietly this time, hiding his smile as strands fell again. Shoulder-level butterfly cut complete,
Lakshmi posed with the scissors like she just shot a blockbuster. “Next time we’ll try trending bangs,” she said proudly. Anjali, now shorter-haired and more annoyed, gave Anji one warning glare — but he just waved with a small grin and said, “Butterflies suit you.” That night, as Anjali stood in front of the mirror drying her freshly cut hair, something felt different, The shoulder-length butterfly layers framed her face gently, and for the first time, she actually liked how light and free it felt.
She ran her fingers through the ends, letting a small smile escape. “He’s such a nuisance… always smiling, always showing up,” she muttered to herself, but her voice lacked anger now. Somewhere inside, the feelings she had kept boxed up — neatly labelled as ‘ignore’ — were starting to slip out. “Why is he always so calm even when I’m rude?” she thought. “Why does he still… care?” Anjali shook her head quickly, trying to push the thoughts away. But her heart was no longer listening.
It was a random afternoon when Lakshmi called out, “Anjali, raamma… just come and sit.” Anjali walked into the room confused, tying her hair. “Why again Amma? There’s no Anji, no camera today.” But Lakshmi was already in full makeover mode, phone in one hand, scissors in the other. She had spent the whole morning watching random YouTube shorts and Insta reels filled with trendy hair hacks and half-English half-nonsense tips. “Trust me, this is international style,” she said confidently,
without even deciding what the style was. Snip here, chop there — layers turned to chunks, chunks turned to patches, and before she realized, Anjali’s hair was cropped so close that her scalp started peeking out. Anjali, who hadn’t seen a mirror yet, sat there blinking slowly, feeling the breeze on her neck and thinking, Why does it suddenly feel so… empty Lakshmi froze for a moment, looked at the uneven mess, and decided to save face the only way she could — full gundu.
“New look, Amma! Very viral now. Trust me,” she said, bringing water and razor quickly before Anjali could protest. “Amma no… wait—” Anjali started, but Lakshmi gently patted her head and scralled the razor like it was a final round in a cooking show. “Too late now, kanna… let’s at least finish this properly,” she muttered. The razor moved slowly over the last bits of uneven hair as Anjali sat with a blank expression — angry at Anji for somehow causing all this, but also strangely calm.
The cool breeze on her scalp felt oddly relaxing. Why am I feeling so light… so free? she wondered. As the final shave ended, Lakshmi wiped her head, smiled awkwardly and said, “Super trendy bald look! People will love it on Insta!” Without waiting for a reaction, she grabbed her bag and rushed out. “Nenu market ki veltunna… need onions!” she shouted, disappearing before Anjali could explode. After her bath, Anjali sat in front of the TV, slowly running her hand over her smooth bald scalp. The feeling was strange and too real to ignore.
She kept rubbing in circles, half-angry, half-accepting. “All this because of that Anji,” she mumbled. “Naaku em ayipoyindhi? Gundu lo gelupu ledhu, life lo clarity ledhu.” She tried focusing on the movie playing, but her thoughts stayed fixed on her new look and the irritating journalist who somehow became the centre of her chaos. Just then, the doorbell rang. Thinking it was Amma, she opened the door casually — only to freeze. It was Anji. For a second, her heart dropped. He’ll laugh… he’ll make fun, she thought. But Anji stepped in, looking serious.
“Who did this to you?” he asked, eyes sharp. “Just tell me. I’ll shave their head in the middle of the road.” Anjali blinked, slightly surprised. Did he actually… care? But before she could process anything, Anji grinned, stepped closer and tapped her bald head playfully. “Ayyayyo, smooth like kodi guddu! Shining gundu,” he laughed, casually walking inside like it was his house. He grabbed the chips from the table, flopped on the sofa and started munching. Anjali stared at him in disbelief.
“Are you serious?! Idiot! You’re the reason for this and you’re enjoying snacks here?” she yelled. Anji didn’t stop smiling. That’s when she snapped — “Do you even love me, Anji… or am I just your comedy content?” Everything went silent. Anji stood up, came closer, pulled her into the bedroom and closed the door behind him. He placed one hand on the wall beside her, looking directly into her eyes. “Yes, I laugh. Yes, I’m a joker. But every joke, every visit, every stare… was only because I love you, Anjali.
I don’t know how to act serious all the time. But this — what I’m saying now — is me. Real, straight, and shamelessly in love.” Anjali didn’t speak — her anger melted, heart confused, but somewhere inside, she believed him. Anji looked at her one last time, his tone low and serious. “I love you, Anjali. Not for fun, not for time pass — real ga. But if you don’t feel the same… I’ll leave. I’ll never show my face to you again.” He took a breath, pointed at the switch beside her. “If you love me back… just turn on that light. That’s all.” Anjali stood frozen.
Slowly, with a smile growing on her face, she turned to flip the switch — click. Nothing happened. Current ledu?! Her heart jumped. “No no no! Why now of all times!” she muttered, hitting the switch again. Still nothing. She looked around, unsure how to stop him. Meanwhile, Anji, thinking she rejected him, walked silently to the hall with his usual dramatic expression. That’s when Anjali rushed out, ran straight to him, and hugged him tightly from behind. “I love you, Anji!” she said loudly, resting her smooth bald head against his back.
Anji’s face lit up like a child — he turned, smiled big and pulled her into a warm hug. They sat together on the sofa, still smiling, still processing. Anji gently touched her head and said, “So… from today, I officially have a bald girlfriend.” Anjali giggled, “And tomorrow you’ll have a bald wife.” He acted shocked. “Then I’ll need double the shampoo savings.” She smirked, “Or head polish cream.” He laughed. “Fine, but no midnight shaving revenge, ok? I sleep with full trust.” Anjali winked,
“You never know, I might surprise you with a trimmer gift on our anniversary.” They both laughed louder now, the tension gone, only comfort and closeness left between them. No hair, no filters — just a weird, sweet love that somehow made perfect sense.
