It has been two months since I last shaved my head, and today, I felt the urge to go bald again. I woke up at my usual time and headed to the salon, but as luck would have it, it was closed.
Disappointed, I headed back home. As I reached my building, I saw Priya Auntie, who runs a local parlor, standing downstairs with some heavy bags. Being a good neighbor, I offered to help and carried her things up to her apartment. As I was about to leave, she insisted I stay for tea. I politely declined the tea but asked for a glass of water instead.
While I was drinking, she asked, "So, where were you off to so early in the morning?"
"I went to the salon, but it’s closed," I replied. "I’ll try again later."
She looked at me curiously. "The salon? Your hair isn't that long. Why do you need a haircut?"
I felt a bit awkward but told her the truth: "I wanted to shave my head."
She stared at me for a moment before bursting into laughter. "Bald! Don't you want to grow your hair out? Didn't you just shave it a few weeks ago?"
I was caught in a spot and didn't know what to say, but eventually, I admitted, "Yes, I did, but I just like the feeling of being bald. I wanted to get it done today, but since the salon was closed, you've been spared the sight of my shiny head!"
She laughed again and said, "Okay, do me a favor. Meet me at my parlor in an hour. I have some work for you." Like a good kid, I agreed and went home.
An hour passed quickly, and I headed to the parlor. Priya Auntie was just arriving to open up. She smiled when she saw me. "Right on time. Come on in."
Once inside, she turned on the lights and gestured to the stylist's chair. Without asking any questions, I sat down. She came over, ran her hand through my hair, and asked, "So, we're clearing this head? A full shave?"
I was a bit confused. "Yes, completely smooth. I want a shiny bald head."
"If a shave is all you want, I’ll do it myself," she said. "Shaving a head is much simpler than a haircut."
I hesitated. "Thanks, Auntie, but I can just go to the salon."
She wasn't having it. "Come on, it’s just a shave! You helped me out earlier, so let me do this for you. No more arguments—I'm shaving your head and that's that."
I figured the salon might still be closed anyway, so I agreed. "Okay, if you’re sure. Please, go ahead."
She gave me a wide smile. "I was going to shave it even if you hadn't agreed!" She then went to lock the front door. When I asked why, she teased, "The ladies from the society will start arriving soon. Do you want them to see you getting buzzed?"
"Definitely not!" I laughed.
She put a cape around my neck and began searching through a drawer. She pulled out a pair of clippers and set them down, but continued looking for something else. I felt a bit disappointed because I was hoping for a traditional straight-razor shave.
"Auntie, I was hoping for a razor shave," I admitted.
"I know, dear," she replied, still searching. "I'm looking for the razor." Finally, she found it—a beautiful, gleaming silver straight razor. She held it up and asked, "Ready to go bald?"
I nodded with a grin. She sprayed my hair with water, saying, "I usually use clippers for styling, but for you, I’ll use the razor. Trust me, I’ll give you such a perfect shave you won't believe it."
She loaded a fresh blade, applied liquid soap to my head, and began. She placed the razor right in the center of my scalp and started gliding it downward. I watched the hair fall onto the cape. Her hands were incredibly soft, and she moved with such precision and care that I could barely feel the blade.
"Look in the mirror," she said. I looked up to see the top of my head was completely smooth, while the sides still had hair—I looked like I had extreme male-pattern baldness!
"Looking good," I joked, bowing my head again. She moved to the back, her movements so smooth that it felt relaxing.
"Auntie, your hands are so steady," I remarked. "It feels great when you run your hand over the shaved skin."
She laughed and rubbed the smooth top of my head. "You have a good head shape for this. If it were up to me, I’d keep you bald all the time."
"Just give the word," I joked. "I'll show up whenever you want for a touch-up."
She chuckled, "I'm just teasing! I don't intend to keep you bald forever. But if you want, I can do this for you once or twice a year."
"I'm joking too," I said. "My mom would kill me if I stayed bald permanently!"
She finished shaving the back and sides until every bit of hair was gone. She used a brush to clear away the loose strands and then applied a mysterious green gel.
"What's this?" I asked.
"It helps the skin and softens the remaining stubble," she explained. "This is how you get an expert finish." She went over my head one last time with the razor, catching every tiny hair I didn't even know was there. My scalp felt smoother than it ever had at a regular salon.
Finally, she wiped my head down, massaged it with oil, and removed the cape. "Don't wash the oil off for two hours," she instructed. "And go out into the sun and send me a selfie of that shining head!"
I laughed, "Sure thing. And let me know if you need help with your bags again."
"Why? So you can get another free shave?" she teased, rubbing my head one last time.
I walked home in the sun, took a "selfie" of my glowing scalp, and sent it to her. She replied instantly: "So shiny! My hard work paid off."
When I got home, my mom stared at me. "Again? Why are you bald again?"
"I told you, it's for the dandruff treatment," I lied smoothly. "Besides, it's summer. Lots of people shave their heads."
She came over and rubbed my head. "Who did it this time? It’s much cleaner than before. It’s so smooth it looks like you never had hair to begin with! Go get freshened up."
"I have to wait," I said. "I've got 'medicine' on it."
As she walked away, I couldn't help but wonder what the experience would be like when I go back to see Auntie next month.
