Suraksha Learns A Lesson

 Suraksha was an ordinary girl in her twenties, living in the quiet lanes of Mysuru with her parents. She was a college student, her days were regular—college, home, a little time on Instagram, and sometimes helping her mother in the kitchen. But inside her, there was a secret she never told anyone. A strange, deep desire she couldn’t understand fully. It started few years back . One random night while scrolling through YouTube, she saw a video of a woman getting her head shaved in a temple. It was a religious tonsure, but something caught Suraksha’s attention. She watched lots of similar videos, 

without even realizing how much time had passed. That night, she felt something which made her heart beat faster. Slowly, this turned into a habit by watching head shave videos secretly at night, after everyone had slept. Sometimes women in temples, sometimes girls in salons, sometimes home shaves. She would wear her earphones, lie on her bed, and go through video after video. One afternoon , as she layed scrolling through random links. One video caught her attention—something she hadn’t seen before. A foreign woman, completely bare, sitting calmly and gets her head shaved. Curiosity took over. She tapped the video.

 The first swipe of the clippers sent hair tumbling to the floor. The woman didn’t flinch—she smiled. Suraksha’s eyes widened, “Yen guru idu”. She had watched head shave videos for years, but this was different. Raw. Intimate. With every pass of the clippers, a strange heat grew inside her. Her hand slipped under the blanket. She didn’t even realize she was fingering slightly. Suraksha let out a quiet breath she hadn’t noticed what she was doing. Her body felt new, alive, and confused.. The more she tried to stop, the more she got pulled into it. One night, it became too much. Her hands were shaking, her heart was racing. 

She stood in front of the mirror, looked at her thick black hair and took one section and whispered, “What if I just shave my head today now only?” With the other hand, she brought the scissor close to her scalp. Her hands were sweating. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. The scissor touched her hair. But before she could cut, her hand stopped. She just stood there for a few minutes, frozen. “agalla” she whispered and slowly dropped the scissor into the sink and returned to her room. That night, she went to bed with mind full of questions she had no answers to. One day while browsing Instagram, 

she came across a reel of a girl getting her head shaved in a salon. The caption was in Kannada, which surprised her. She clicked the profile. The page was filled with tonsure clips. His name was Thanush. She clicked his profile—private. But his bio said: “DM for hair transformation sessions. Mysuru based.” Suraksha hesitantly sent a follow request. Within minutes, her request was accepted. From there, the chats flowed. He spoke openly—confessing that he had a fetish, and that he respected women who embraced the bald look. His confidence made her feel bold. He praised her hair, 

asked if she had ever thought of shaving it, and teased that she’d look stunning bald. Meanwhile, in her own college world, Pranav—her classmate—noticed her change. He had always liked her, quietly admiring her soft nature. A few times he had offered her notes or walked her to the bus stop, but she never noticed his care deeply. “Suraksha, enadru problem idya?” he asked one day after class. She shook her head and smiled faintly. “No Pranav, nothing like that.” But there was something. And she was falling deeper without knowing. A few nights later, Thanush messaged her again. Thanush: 

“If you’re serious, why not come over? I can do it for you. Private. Safe. No one will know.” She stared at the message. Her heart beat fast. The fantasy she had watched so many times… now felt real. She replied: “Let me think.” That night, she didn’t sleep much. Suraksha stood at the bus stop, her heart pounding as the auto dropped her a street away from Thanush’s flat. She wore a deep red crop top blue denim jacket and dark jeans. Her palms were sweating. The plan was set—Thanush had said everything would be “safe and private.” But still, her legs felt heavy. The door creaked open. Thanush smiled. “Welcome, bold girl,” he said teasingly. 

She forced a small smile and stepped inside. The room smelled faintly of hair cream and incense. A chair was set up in the middle of the room. A ring light pointed towards it. A large mirror stood nearby. And on the table, she saw them—scissors, a clipper, a new razor. “Chair illa Suraksha… lets do on bed?” Thanush asked casually. Suraksha hesitated “I prefer chair only ” she mumbled. Thanush smirked and dragged a worn-out plastic chair from the corner. “Happy?” She nodded silently and sat down. He walked up behind her, fingers brushing her shoulder. “Remove this jacket… it’ll get messy.” Suraksha slowly removes the denim jacket off her shoulders revealing her red croptop, now the air in the room felt heavier. 

Thanush plugged in the clipper. The buzzing filled the room. The clipper touched her crown and pushed forward. The sound of hair ripping echoed in her ears. A huge patch was gone. Halfway through, she looked up at the mirror. She didn’t recognize herself. She felt his hand on her head, tilting it sharply. “Look down.” He pushed her head forward and continued. The clipper buzzed across her nape, and a rush of goosebumps rose. “Now the real thing,” he grinned as he lathered foam across her head. He pressed hardly, his hand holding her head with control—tilting, shifting, rotating her like she was a canvas. “Don’t move.” and slowly glided the blade, cleaning her head smooth. “You’re done,” he whispered.

 “Look how powerful you look.” She reached up slowly, touched her bald scalp. It was smooth. Warm. Unbelievable. He clicked a few pictures on his phone quickly. “Memories,” he said with a smile. “You should keep one too.” She nodded weakly but didn’t speak much. Thanush looked at her, admiring. “You should take a bath, you’ll feel fresh,” he said. Suraksha flinched slightly. “No… I’ll just go home.” “As you wish.” he responded. She didn’t wait. She threw on her jacket quickly, barely thanked him, and left. At home, when Amma stared at her in shock, she had quickly lied “It was a donation camp amma….” Her mother had hesitated but believed her.

 The topic was dropped with just a few taunts. Later that midnight Her phone started buzzing. One, two, five missed calls. Friends, college group chats. Then came the screenshots. Someone had uploaded a morphed video of her head shave, clearly showing her face and naked body, on public reel page. Comments poured in. Some laughing, some calling her brave, others… worse. Her parents found out before morning. Her mother’s slap came first, followed by a storm of angry questions. “Yaar avanu? Yeen madidya nin life ge? In this how you our upbringing is?” Suraksha couldn’t speak. She just stood there, head down, bald, 

trembling. Later, Pranav came to know. He called her. She didn’t answer. She finally picked up after two hours. His voice was calm. He told her not to panic. He used his connections, flagged the video on social platforms, and even reached out to the admin of the page where it was posted. Within 24 hours, the video was taken down from most places. Not fully gone—but hidden enough. “Thank you…” she said softly on call. “You don’t have to tell me anything, Suraksha,” Pranav replied gently. “But next time, just don’t go through it alone.” That night, she stared at herself in the mirror. Her bald head reflected the harsh bathroom light. She just felt empty as whispered to herself “Ashte saaku…” And from that moment, she promised—no more secrets. No more online traps