The persistent itch had become an unbearable nightmare. For weeks, I, Riya, at twenty, had battled the stubborn lice infestation in my long, black hair – hair that had always been my pride. Finally, after countless remedies failed, my mother suggested the ultimate solution: a complete shave. The thought sent a chill down my spine, but the relentless itching was worse. So, with a heavy heart mixed with a desperate hope for relief, I found myself at Priya aunty’s door. Priya aunty, a kind, practical woman with a warm smile, was known in our family for her steady hands and no-nonsense approach to any problem.
She greeted me with a comforting hug, seeing the apprehension in my eyes. "Don't worry, beta," she reassured, her voice soft. "It's just hair. It will grow back stronger and healthier."
We went into a small, brightly lit room. She made me sit on a low stool, placing a clean towel around my shoulders. I could feel my heart pounding as she gently ran her fingers through my thick hair, inspecting the extent of the infestation. "Yes," she murmured, "this is the best way."
The First Shave: With the Straight Razor
Priya aunty disappeared for a moment and returned with a small wooden box. From it, she carefully took out a gleaming, silver straight razor. My eyes widened a little. This wasn't some electric trimmer; this was the real deal. She honed the blade on a leather strop, the rhythmic shick-shick-shick sound making my stomach clench.
"First, we'll get the bulk off," she explained, picking up a pair of scissors. I closed my eyes as I felt the first snip. It wasn't gentle – it was decisive, like cutting through a thick rope. Clumps of my precious hair fell to the floor, each strand a tiny pang in my chest. The sound of the scissors was loud in the quiet room, and I could feel the weight lift from my head with each cut. Soon, my long locks were reduced to a short, uneven stubble, barely an inch long all over. My scalp felt strangely exposed, naked beneath the remaining strands.
Now came the real part. Priya aunty poured some warm water into a bowl and dipped a soft cloth in it, gently wiping my scalp. The warmth was soothing. Then, she applied a thin layer of light oil to my head, which made the skin feel supple and ready.
"Hold still, Riya," she instructed gently. I felt the cool, metallic edge of the straight razor on my scalp, just above my forehead. It was sharp, incredibly sharp. She held the razor at a precise angle, her hand steady as a rock. With a slight pull on my skin to make it taut, she began the first stroke.
Scrriiiiip.
That was the sound. A quiet, yet incredibly distinct scrape of the blade against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. I could feel the remaining stubble being effortlessly shorn away. It wasn't painful, but it was intensely unfamiliar. Tiny, dark hairs, mixed with the oil, clung to the blade, which she regularly wiped clean on a damp cloth.
She started at the front, moving methodically across my crown. I could feel the smooth path the razor left behind, a stark contrast to the stubble-covered areas. She worked with incredible precision, pulling the skin taut with one hand and guiding the shimmering blade with the other. My scalp felt an immediate, strange coolness as if a heavy blanket had been lifted. The nagging itch was already, miraculously, gone from the shaved patches.
Then she moved to the sides, tilting my head gently. I felt the blade glide from my temples down to above my ears, the scrriiiiip sound repeating. My ears felt suddenly large and exposed. Finally, she tackled the back of my head, guiding my chin to my chest. I felt the strokes around my nape, meticulously clearing every last hair.
When she was done with the first pass, my head felt incredibly light, almost weightless. Priya aunty handed me a small mirror. I hesitantly looked. My scalp was not perfectly smooth yet; it had a very fine, almost invisible stubble, like the softest sandpaper. But the difference from my earlier hair was monumental. My features, my eyes, my cheekbones, suddenly stood out with an almost startling clarity.
The Second Shave: Foam for a Smooth, Shiny Bald Finish
"Now for the real smooth finish," Priya aunty announced with a smile, sensing my mixture of awe and relief. She had another surprise for me.
She took out a can of shaving foam. The familiar hiss as she pressed the nozzle, and a rich, white, creamy lather emerged. She spread a generous layer of the cool, fragrant foam all over my head, massaging it gently into my scalp. The foam felt incredibly soft and soothing, a stark contrast to the earlier raw feeling. It smelled fresh and clean.
She picked up the straight razor again, which she had carefully rinsed and wiped. This time, her strokes were even more deliberate, designed for ultimate closeness. Starting from the front, she again pulled the skin taut, and the blade glided effortlessly through the creamy foam.
Sliiiide...
There was almost no sound this time, just the whisper of the blade through the foam, scraping completely clean. The foam magically disappeared where the razor passed, revealing gleaming, pinkish skin beneath. This second pass was incredibly gentle, almost caressing. I could feel every pore opening, every last trace of stubble being removed.
She went over every part of my head – the crown, the sides, behind the ears, and the nape – with meticulous care. Each stroke left a perfectly smooth, baby-soft patch. I closed my eyes, completely trusting her, enjoying the sensation. The cool foam, the sharp, clean blade, the incredible lightness that was now truly settling over me.
After she had covered every inch, she took a warm, wet towel and carefully wiped away the remaining foam. I felt the last residue of the lather and tiny, invisible hairs being lifted away. Then, she rinsed my head with cool water, the sensation invigorating, making my scalp tingle. Finally, she applied a soothing aftershave balm, massaging it gently into my skin. The balm smelled wonderful and left my scalp feeling incredibly soft and hydrated.
"There, my child," she said, her voice filled with quiet satisfaction. "Take a look now."
I picked up the mirror again, my hands trembling slightly. And there it was. My head, completely, utterly bald. But it wasn't harsh or ugly. It was smooth, incredibly smooth, reflecting the light like polished marble. My scalp was a healthy pink, glistening under the light, completely free of any hair, any stubble. It was shiny, truly shiny bald. My eyes, usually framed by my long hair, now seemed larger, more expressive. My cheekbones were prominent, and the shape of my head, which I'd never really seen before, was surprisingly graceful.
I reached up and touched my head. It was unbelievably soft, like a baby's skin. The sensation of the cool air directly on my scalp was utterly liberating. All the itch, all the worry, all the frustration of the lice was gone. Replaced by a feeling of profound cleanliness and lightness.
A genuine smile, one I hadn't felt in weeks, spread across my face. "Aunty," I whispered, "it's... it's amazing. I feel so light, so clean!"
Priya aunty patted my shoulder, her eyes twinkling. "See? Sometimes, a fresh start is the best solution. You look beautiful, Riya. A different kind of beautiful." And looking at my reflection, at my perfectly smooth, shiny bald head, I knew she was right. It was a bold, unexpected transformation, but I felt utterly refreshed, reborn.
