Legendary Head Shave Tales
The sun was setting as Sanjana Miss, a strict but dedicated teacher stood in front of the tenth standard class, her sharp eyes fixed on Surya, the most feared student in school. Surya leaned back in his chair with a smirk on his face. His father was a powerful politician, and everyone—students, teachers and even the principal—knew better not to mess with him. But not Sanjana. “Stand up, Surya,” she ordered. He didn’t move. The class fell silent. “I said, stand up!” Rolling his eyes, Surya got up slowly. “You think you can do anything just because of your father, Bunking classes, bullying students… enough .
She calles his father and puts it in speaker. After a few rings, his father picked up, sounding distracted. “What now?” Sanjana took a deep breath. “Sir, I need to talk about your son—” “I’m busy. I’ll talk to him later.” Click. He hung up. A few students giggled. Sanjana’s face burned. Surya grinned and laughed hardly. Sanjana looses her templer and then she slapped him. The class gasped. For the first time, Surya’s smirk vanished. He didn’t shout. Didn’t react. He just stared at her. And in that moment, Sanjana realized her mistake but didn’t react .
That evening, Surya sat with his gang. His fists clenched. “She humiliated me, She thinks she’s brave?” One of his friends chuckled. “So? What’s the plan?” Surya’s lips curled into a smile. “She’ll regret it. Lets take away her pride”. Late evening. Sanjana returned home, while taking the shower thinking about what happened. She stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, her wet hair dripping down her back. As she sat before the mirror, combing her long strands, a voice behind her sent chills down her spine. “You left the door unlocked, Miss,” Surya smirked, lounging on her bed. His father’s men blocked the exit. Sanjana gasped. “Get out!”
Before she could react, one of his men grabbed her from behind and forcefully pushed her down onto the chair. She struggled, but her towel slipped, barely covering her. A fresh wave of panic rushed through her as she desperately tried to adjust it. “Start filming,” Surya ordered and The boy pulled out his phone and started recording the humiliation. He open her wardrobe and searched for a pair of scissors. As he found one holding a fistful of her damp hair, he began cutting unevenly, letting the chopped strands fall onto her trembling shoulders, exposed thighs and cold feet. Her pride was reduced to a mess.
Not satisfied, he went into her bathroom, grabbed her safety razor, and returned. Without hesitation, he dragged the dull blade across her scalp, scraping roughly, leaving cuts and patches of hair behind. The pain, the helplessness—she could do nothing but sit there shivering and humiliated. As Sanjana’s scalp was burning with fresh cuts, Surya smirked and grabbed a bottle of fevicol from her table. And poured the thick glue over her raw scalp. She winced as it hardened, sticking to her skin like a second layer. “Now she won’t even grow her hair back properly!” one of them joked. As they left, the room fell into an eerie silence. Sanjana stared at her reflection, her face pale, her scalp red and raw.
The next morning, Sanjana arrived at school one last time. She walked across the campus with her head covered with a dupatta Students whispered. Teachers avoided her gaze. She entered the principal’s office and placed the letter on the table. “I quit.” The principal nodded. No questions. No sympathy. As Sanjana walked away, the wind blew, Sanjana’s dupatta slipped off, revealing her patchy, glue-streaked shaved head with cuts and scars. Gasps filled the air. A new teacher Priya asked. “What happened to her Ma’am ?” Other teacher whispered, “It’s better you don’t ask.”
Priya hesitated. “What about Surya? Is he really that dangerous?” The principal exhaled slowly. She adjusted her boy-cut hair, her face unreadable. “Sanjana wasn’t the first victim there were many other teachers who came and met the same fate .” Priya froze. Another teacher leaned in, whispering nervously, “Surya’s father did the same to her an years ago. That’s why the principal has this hairstyle.” Priya felt a chill run down her spine. Through the window, Surya sat on his bike, laughing with his friends.
The king had won. Again.
