Blind Date: I still Love Her

 The monastery was nestled deep within the Himalayan valley, where silence spoke louder than words and the air smelled of pine and prayer. Behind the ancient stone buildings, an open meditation ground stretched, It was here that Veda, a young woman from Andhra Pradesh, stepped in with slow, determined steps. Her spectacles reflected the calm morning light, her eyes carrying both fear and peace. She approached Shivani Mata, the monastery’s head monk, who sat cross-legged lost in meditation. “I want to leave this duniya behind,” Veda said softly, folding her hands in respect. “I wish to take deeksha… surrender my life and my hair… everything.” 

Shivani opened her eyes, aged but sharp, observing Veda with compassion. After a long pause, Shivani nodded. “So be it. But once you step into this path, there’s no turning back. Samjhi?” Two older monks appeared silently behind them. With a soft gesture from Shivani, they guided Veda along a narrow path into the forest, behind the monastery. There, a flat stone slab sat beneath a neem tree, The forest was silent, sacred. Veda removed her dupatta, eyes closed, and sat upon the stone. One monk, a tall woman with wrinkled hands, brought out a wooden razor. The other unfolded a cloth to collect the hair. As Veda bowed her head, 

the first monk gently gathered her thick black hair and began shaving—slow, clean strokes from front to back. Locks of hair fell silently onto the cloth. The sound of the wooden razor gliding over scalp filled the air. Veda’s hands remained on her lap, still and calm, her breathing deep. A few tears welled up—not of regret, but of letting go. As her scalp was slowly revealed, she looked like a fading picture of her old life. After the last strand was removed, the monk dipped a cloth in herbal water and carefully cleaned Veda’s scalp. Then, she shaved it again making it smooth and hairless.

 Veda sat tall, feeling the breeze touch her bald skin for the first time. She was then asked to stand. Without hesitation, she removed all her old clothes. The monks helped her into a fresh ochre robe, wrapping it around her with care, followed by a plain inner cloth. When she stepped back into the meditation ground, Shivani Mata awaited her. “You are now part of this life,” Shivani said. “Your head must remain bald. Every 2 days once you should do self mundan, Ego, name, desires—all must be left behind.” Veda folded her hands once again. “Ji, Mata,” she replied. Her journey of awakening had begun. Every morning began in silence.

 The soft chime of the prayer bell would echo through the stone corridors, waking Veda before the first light of dawn. She slowly got used to waking early, bathing in cold water, draping the maroon robes over her now smooth, bald head, and sitting in deep meditation. The breeze often brushed against her scalp, and in those moments, she would pause to feel it fully — a soft reminder of detachment and stillness. The baldness that once made her self-conscious had now become a symbol of her identity. One bright afternoon, as part of her daily seva, Veda made her way to the nearby village to collect offerings. 

With a begging bowl in hand and her bare feet, Her bald head shone under the sun, drawing curious glances, but most people now recognized her as the young monk from the hills. A few women offered her fruits, some folded hands and greeted her, Not far from the well, a commotion broke out. A man was fixing a broken tap while yelling at two local officials. “Yeh paani sabka hai, samjhe? Don’t act like you own it!” he barked, handing over a bottle of water to an old lady. That was Balu — the village’s unofficial Robinhood. 

He had no job tag but did everything from arranging medicine to scolding corrupt officers. One minute he was donating secretly, the next he was caught stealing electricity to help a school. Veda walked past him quietly. Their eyes met for a second, but she turned away as she had chosen a life of vairagya. Balu, however, froze mid-sentence. The maroon robes didn’t catch his eye first — it was her clean, bald head gleaming under sunlight like it had some sort of quiet power. His eyes followed her every step. “Arrey yeh kaun hai? What kind of peace is this girl carrying?” he muttered, lips curling into a smile. 

The grace in her walk and that clean-shaven head — it wasn’t beauty in the usual sense, it was something far beyond. For a moment, he forgot he was holding a camera, until his friend nudged him. “Oye, shoot kar na… we have to wrap by sunset!” He nodded, quickly adjusting the focus. He worked for a modest travel YouTube channel that explored lesser-known places — “Wild Roots TV” — and had come here to cover the spiritual practices in the region. But all Balu could see now was her. Veda. The bald monk with the calmest face he had ever seen. He kept the camera steady, filming her quietly from a distance,

 a strange warmth bloomed in his chest. That evening , Veda followed with her freshly shaved bald head shining under the soft sun. Near the temple gopuram, Balu spotted her while shooting street visuals for his travel channel. “Excuse me… I don’t know why, but I feel something when I see you,” he said, a little nervous. Veda turned, surprised. “You don’t even know me,” she replied, eyes calm. “I don’t need to. Pyaar ka logic nahi hota,” he smiled. “Even with no hair, no makeup… you stood out.” Veda blinked. “I’ve chosen this path. Mundan kiya deeksha liya and left everything behind,” she said softly. Balu nodded. 

“Even if you stay bald forever, you’ll still be the most beautiful for me.” Veda turned away, heart shaken, whispering, “You don’t understand…” Later that night, inside the quiet monk quarters, Andal was rubbing soap water over her own stubble scalp, “Veda, your head also full stubble now, two days only! Shall I do mottai, ah?” she asked, playfully tapping her razor. Veda sat silently, lost in thought. “What happened to you, ma?” Andal asked, shaving her head slowly. “A man… he said he loves me,” Veda said quietly. Andal paused mid-motion. “Aiyo! Love ah?” she giggled. “Tell him, ‘No baba, I’m not interested!’ and move on, simple.” 

Veda hesitated. “But he seemed honest… not timepass. I felt something.” Andal squinted. “Eh, don’t confuse feeling with heart beat, okay” Veda gave a faint smile. “I did mundan thinking I let go of all this… par dil toh abhi bhi sunta hai.” Andal patted her shoulder. “You go meet him one last time. Denie politely” The next evening, Veda met Balu again at the silent meditation hill, She walked toward him slowly, her shaved bald head uncovered and glowing in the golden light. Balu looked up, mesmerized again. “Thank you for coming,” he said, holding back emotions. “I didn’t come for romance,” she said softly. “I came to close this chapter.” 

Balu nodded. “Bas ek baat kehna tha. Your shaved head… your peace… they made me reflect on myself too.” Veda looked at him, puzzled. “I’m a monk. You’re not meant to—” 
He interrupted, “I don’t want to change you. I just… feel something deep. That’s all.” Veda blinked slowly, removed her specs. “No one ever said that after I lost my hair,” she murmured. “They stared, some even laughed.” Balu shook his head. “They didn’t see what I saw.” She stared at him for a long moment. Then smiled, small and sad. “Mujhe jaana hoga.” She turned away. Balu’s words stirred something deep inside her. 

For a moment, she kept silent, gently running her fingers over her smooth scalp as though grounding herself. Then, in a low trembling voice, she spoke, “I didn’t run away for peace, Balu… I ran to stay alive.” Her eyes welled up. “I come from a big family in Andhra. My grandfather had written most of the property in my name before he passed away. But my uncle… he couldn’t accept it. He tried to have me killed, nijanga. Amma died because of the poison they fed our house. I escaped in the middle of the night,” She looked away, voice cracking. “This gundu… it hides me, makes me someone else. I don’t deserve love.

I do love you, but I’ll kill that feeling. I can’t go back to being that girl. This bald head reminds me who I need to be now ” She gently wiped her tears. “Please forget me, Balu. This is my life now.” Balu sat in silence even after she walked away, her bare scalp shining like truth under the sky. He felt crushed yet determined. The next day, he found Shivani sitting cross-legged under a Peepal tree in meditation. “Shivani ji,” he said, folding hands, “I need to talk.” As she opened her eyes, he told her everything — Veda’s real identity, her uncle’s threat, her escape, her broken trust. Shivani listened without interrupting, her face unreadable. 

After a pause, she asked, “You still want to stay by her side? Even after knowing all this?” Balu nodded, “Haan… I want to protect her. Woh akeli hai, but she doesn’t have to be.” Shivani gave a long exhale. “Hmm… you’re not here just for mohabbat. You genuinely want to heal her. Theek hai, come to the monastery after 2 days. Let me think this through — her safety, her emotions, everything. We can’t rush.” Balu nodded, silently praying he could bring back the spark behind that bald, stoic mask. The next morning, the monastery air was calm and golden. Veda sat on a stone slab, razor in hand, 

continuing her ritualistic head shave for the third day as per monastery custom. With every stroke across her scalp, she felt herself shedding yet another layer of the past. The smoothness of her bald head glistened under the early sun. Just as she was rinsing her head, a young girl came with a message from Shivani. “Shivani matha is calling you to the main hall. She said to give you this,” the girl said, handing her a folded pink kurti with white embroidery. Veda looked surprised. “Dress yenduku idi?” she murmured under her breath. Still puzzled, she went to the bathing area, ran her fingers gently over her freshly shaved scalp under the cool water,

 and slipped into the soft cotton kurti. Her reflection in the water shimmered — bald, bare, yet graceful. Inside the prayer hall, the soft echo of temple bells filled the air. Shivani stood near the large Buddha idol, eyes closed As Veda stepped in, her freshly shaved head covered only by the tilak on her forehead, Shivani turned with a warm smile. “You’ve carried a lot, Veda… dard bhi, zimmedaari bhi,” she said softly. “But I also saw courage in you. This bald head you carry — it’s not a punishment. It’s your strength, your truth. And Balu… he’s not here out of sympathy. He’s here with niyat.” Just then, Balu entered, nervous. 

Shivani looked at both of them. “I believe in you both. Veda, you deserve love, not fear. And Balu, protect her not just as a partner, Sahi mein… aap dono ek dusre ke liye bane ho.” She turned to her side and picked up two fresh garlands, handing one to each of them. Balu looked at Veda, eyes moist. Veda, though hesitant, slowly stepped forward. As the bells chimed once again, they placed the garlands around each other’s necks. As the garlands were exchanged, Shivani stepped forward and gently placed veda’s hand into Balu’s palm. “She’s still young, Balu,” Shivani said warmly, “Zindagi toh abhi shuru hui hai for her. 

Most of us here… we’re widows, left behind, or simply lost our way long ago. But she still has a chance to live a full life — with you.” Balu nodded with a slight smile, still holding Veda’s hand, while Veda looked down, her cheeks pink. Shivani continued with a small chuckle, glancing at Veda’s gleaming bald head. “Dekho Balu, bahu mili hai tumhe… lekin shampoo ka kharcha toh gaya!” she grinned. Veda smiled shyly, and Balu let out a soft laugh. “And from now on,” Shivani added playfully, “her head shave ka zimmedari tumhari. Weekly maintenance, haan?” Balu nodded, amused, while Veda covered her face, half laughing, half blushing. 

Then Shivani reached out one last time, her palm gliding affectionately over Veda’s smooth scalp, almost like a blessing. With a final smile, she stepped back, letting the couple take their first steps together. As they walked a few steps away from the prayer hall, Veda looked up at Balu with a gentle smile. “So… this look okay to you?” she asked, slowly running her fingers over her smooth scalp. “First time I saw my gundu in the mirror, I felt so odd.” Balu smiled softly. “It suits you… chala confident ga unnadi.” He smiled. “Still feels strange without my juttu… but lighter.” 

Balu chuckled lightly. “Don’t worry… we’ll get used to it together.” Veda looked up, gently patting her bald head. “I used to fear this, now I carry it with grace.” She smiled at Balu, a hint of pride in her tone. “Let this be the start of fearless love.”