The sweltering heat of the school holidays had just begun, and the air in the house was thick and still. My sister Shreya and I were slumped under the fan, trying to catch a breeze that felt more like a warm breath. When Priya aunty visited and whispered to my mom, “Give it a thought, Gowri,” I had no idea they were discussing the fate of the hair on my head.
The catalyst was Rupa, who burst in later, energized despite the sun. "I just came from Pammi aunty’s parlor," she laughed, gulping down juice. "My brothers Ajay and Vijay had no choice—mom made them get their heads shaved bald. You should see them! It’s so fun to touch their smooth scalps."
My mom’s hand absentmindedly gathered my hair, feeling the heat trapped against my neck. "It’s high time you had a haircut," she said softly. "Go to Pammi aunty. I’ve already called her."
I walked down the road to the parlor, expecting a standard trim. But the moment I sat in the chair and the cape was snapped tight, the atmosphere changed. Pammi aunty started with scissors, but the conversation quickly shifted to her son, Baldev, who walked in with a glistening, freshly shaved head.
"I don’t do regular haircuts anymore," she smiled, as the scissors were replaced by a heavy electric clipper. "I only shave heads now."
Before I could protest, she tilted my chin down. The razor started running on my head, a loud, rhythmic buzz that vibrated through my skull. I watched in the mirror as the first long strip of hair fell away, revealing a pale, bare scalp underneath. The sensation was incredible—the cold metal teeth of the clipper dragging from my forehead to my nape, stripping away the heat with every pass. Within minutes, my hair was reduced to a fine, dark stubble.
"It feels good, doesn't it?" she whispered. Just then, Shreya and Rupa burst in. "Make it like my brothers!" Rupa cheered. "Make it perfectly bald!"
Aunty didn't hesitate. She took a brush and whipped up a thick, white shaving foam, coating my entire head until I looked like I was wearing a snowy cap. Then, she pulled out a traditional straight razor.
The shop grew quiet as she held my head steady. I felt the sharp, cold edge of the straight razor landing on my scalp. Scritch. Scritch. She scraped with effortless strokes, moving from the crown down to the ears. Each pass of the razor left behind skin that was shaved smooth and clean. The feeling of the naked blade sliding over the curves of my skull was intense and addictive.
To ensure it was perfect, she did a second pass, the razor running over my head against the grain. As she finished, a sudden summer storm broke outside. Huge drops turned into hail falling on the ground, the white icy pellets bouncing off the hot pavement just like the mounds of white foam and hair on the parlor floor.
She wiped my head and applied a stinging, cool lotion. When she removed the cape, I couldn't stop staring. My forehead now merged into a flawless, bald scalp that reflected the light. She took my hand and guided it to my own head. Rubbing my smooth shaved bald head felt like touching silk or polished stone.
Walking home with the girls, a cool breeze blew, and for the first time in my life, I felt the wind actually "touching" my brain. When we went to buy sweets, Babitha aunty couldn't resist rubbing my head either. "So fair and smooth!" she remarked.
The highlight was when my college-going cousins, Sharada and Sridevi, arrived. They weren't shocked; they were delighted. They watched the video Pammi aunty had recorded of the straight razor shave and spent the evening rubbing my bald head, admiring the "cool" look.
Over the next few weeks, I became obsessed with the texture. Whenever the tiny, prickly hairs began to sprout, my cousins would notice.
"Feeling the heat again?" Sharada didi would ask with a wink. She would bring out the foam and a fresh blade, and I would sit happily as she spent an hour running the razor on my head again, restoring that mirror-like bald scalp. We even took photos where their sweaty faces were pressed against my cool, smooth head, a perfect contrast in the summer heat. By the time school started, I wasn't just used to the bald look—I was proud of it.
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I’ve always been drawn to the smooth, unblemished expanse of a bald head. There’s something about it that thrills me, something that makes ...