Mansoon headshave

The air hung heavy and thick with the scent of spices and rain. It was a classic monsoon afternoon in India, and the humidity had plastered my hair to my forehead in a sticky, miserable mess. I was heading home from the market, my t-shirt clinging to my back, and all I could think about was how a haircut just wouldn't be enough. The only solution for this kind of heat was a complete head shave. I turned down a narrow lane and found the salon I was looking for. Unlike the usual noisy barbershops, this was a small, quiet space run by a woman named Shanti. She was known for her incredible skill with a straight razor and the traditional "champi" head massage she gave after every service. When I stepped inside, Shanti was sitting on a low stool, meticulously cleaning her tools. The shop was simple, with a few mirrors and a barber's chair in the center. A quiet bell above the door chimed as I entered, and she looked up with a warm smile. "Hello," she said, her voice as calm as the rain outside. "Come, sit." She gestured to the chair and I settled in, my neck already feeling cooler just from being inside. Shanti draped a crisp, white cape over my shoulders and tucked it neatly at my neck. She ran her fingers through my damp, tangled hair, her expression thoughtful. "Your hair is very heavy," she observed. "It is suffering in this weather. A cut will not solve your problem." "That's what I was thinking," I replied. "I was hoping for a complete shave. A 'mundan'." Her eyes lit up. "Ah, a true clean slate! This is the best way. For a good mind, you must have a good head. This will bring peace." She took a small bowl and whisked up a rich, fragrant lather from a block of shaving soap. It smelled of sandalwood and rosewater. Gently, she massaged the creamy foam into my hair, her fingers expertly working the soap down to my scalp. The cool, slick sensation was a huge relief. Soon, my entire head was covered in a thick, white layer of foam. Shanti then picked up a well-worn straight razor. She deftly flipped open the blade and secured it, her movements precise and practiced. She bent my head forward, her thumb parting the hair just above my forehead, and held the razor at an angle. The first stroke was a revelation. A soft, whispering scrape, followed by the immediate sensation of bare skin. A thick, gooey clump of hair and foam slid down the blade and fell onto the cape in my lap. She continued, moving with a rhythm—a short, deliberate stroke followed by the soft sound of a wiping cloth. I could feel the razor gliding over my scalp, removing the last remnants of my messy hair, and with each pass, my head felt lighter. In the mirror, I watched as my reflection transformed. My scalp, once hidden by a forest of hair, was now pale and exposed. A small, bald patch on the top of my head looked almost comical, and a laugh escaped me. Shanti smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Don't worry," she said softly. "The best is yet to come." She worked her way around to the back of my head, her hands steady as she maneuvered the razor along my hairline. I could feel the smooth, clean-shaven skin behind my ears and at the nape of my neck. The last of the hair fell away, and before I knew it, my entire head was a perfectly smooth, hairless dome. Shanti wiped the excess lather away with a warm, damp cloth and then reached for a small bottle of coconut oil. She poured a generous amount into her palm and began to massage my head. Her touch was gentle and firm, and the oil spread easily over my freshly shaved scalp. Her fingers glided effortlessly, as if they were dancing. It was the most soothing feeling I had ever experienced. "You see?" she murmured, her hands still moving. "A clean head. A fresh start. So much better than a haircut, no?" "Much better," I agreed, my eyes closed in bliss. "I've never felt so refreshed." She gave my head a final, tender rub before wiping away the excess oil from my forehead and neck. Then she unfastened the cape. I stood up and looked at my reflection. Where a sticky, tangled mess had been, there was now a perfectly smooth, gleaming scalp. "You look like a monk," Shanti said, with a final pat on my head. "Very peaceful. Very calm." I ran my hands over my bald head, amazed at the velvety texture. "I love it. It's so smooth." "Now, you will not have this heat problem," she said, a playful smile on her lips. "But perhaps you will have a new problem—a girlfriend who doesn't like a bald head!" We both laughed. "Maybe they'll like a smooth head just as much," I said, a mischievous grin on my face.