The Legendary Head Shave Tales

Rashmi’s story with Rakshith had once been the kind of love people dream of. They met in college, shared five long years of secrets, promises, and laughter. Rakshi had loved her with all his heart, making her his world. But fate twisted when Rashmi got a chance in a small short film. There, she met Vijay Kumar, an actor with more showoff than talent, but with confidence and andha-chandha that dazzled her. Slowly, she began cheating Rakshi, hiding her double life. When Mithun, her father, asked her one day about madhuve, she confidently said she loved Vijay. Believing her, Mithun fixed the match, proud of his magale’s choice. Rashmi’s old love was buried in silence, as if those 5 years had meant nothing. The house was glowing with rituals and relatives, madhuve songs filling the air. Tomorrow evening was the grand reception, followed by the muhurtha where Rashmi and Vijay would be declared husband and wife. That night, Rashmi lay happily on her bed as she spoke to Vijay about their futu...

The Mumbai gully was glowing with wedding lights as Virat and Ankita’s big day was almost here. Their families, rich but traditional, were busy with last-minute rituals and decorations. Ankita, lovingly called as Anu, still had the deep red of mehendi shining on her hands, while Viru’s skin carried the golden tint of haldi from the morning ceremony. They were modern in their lifestyle but never left their roots behind, which made every ritual feel special. The house buzzed with joy, but in the middle of all this, Viru’s mind was already plotting something playful, something only he knew. Sitting on his bed, Viru dialed his closest friend, Rohit. “Bhai, tomorrow is the wedding, but tonight I want something exclusive,” Viru said with a cheeky smile. Rohit laughed, “Aree bhai, you still have time for drama?  What now?” Viru leaned back, grinning, “Reserve your saloon just for me and your bhabhi tonight. No outsiders, only us.” Rohit raised his brows even over the phone, surprised but ...

Hari’s life was always tangled with failures in love. From childhood to college, every attempt ended in rejection. He would propose with all his heart, only to be met with a shake of the head or a polite smile, but Hari carried on with his crazy hope. Somewhere deep inside, he still believed that one day, one girl would understand him. It happened one fine day on the coastal bus ride in Vizag—he saw her. Sailaja. Elegant, quiet, and wrapped in a simplicity that stole his breath. Their conversations began like ripples, small and gentle. Soon, those ripples grew into waves of laughter, shared secrets, and stolen glances. Hari felt the bond turning into love, stronger than anything he had ever known.  And then came the shock— He realized Sailaja was not just any girl, but his first childhood crush, the girl he had given ring to. His heart jumped with joy, but he kept it locked inside, never telling her. For him, this was destiny coming back, and he didn’t want to spoil it. Just when l...

It was the night before final exams in their Bangalore PG. The whole building was silent with every girl in their rooms, bent over notes, their eyes heavy but still focused on tomorrow’s exam. In one corner room, Maneesha and Nisha sat on the bed, books open on their laps but their attention far away from formulas or definitions. Maneesha’s dusky Kerala face glowed in the dim tube light, her big eyes stealing glances at her roommate. Nisha, fair and sharp from Mumbai, bit her lip and made funny faces as if mocking the textbooks. They exchanged smiles, “Serious aa studying aa,” Maneesha whispered, her Malayali accent sweet and naughty. Nisha smirked, “Arre yaar, who cares about exam, I only wanna study your body.” Maneesha had always been different, even back in Kerala. Boys never attracted her much, but she still remembered the time she blushed seeing her senior girl undressing in the hostel bathroom. Nisha’s story was bolder. Back in Mumbai, she had kissed a school friend during a dar...

Chaitanya was the kind of young admirable man of his town. He spoke less, but his calmness carried weight. Working alongside his Father in business. Anusha Reddy, on the other hand, was a firebrand in her own way. She loved her art more than anything, confident, a little stubborn, and never ready to loose not even in arguments. Their first meeting had been accidental, but from that day Chai’s steady nature began to balance Anu’s sharp edges. She would tease him, calling him “too decent,” while he smiled back and said, “Maybe that’s why you like me, Anu.” Somewhere between her stubbornness and his patience, prema grew silently. Chai’s father was a proud man, known for his big talk and bigger ego.  One evening at home, over dinner, he declared, “Let’s fix the pelli right away.” Chai tried to reason, “Naana, maybe we should ask Anu’s family first…” but his father waved him off. “Business and marriages—both need timing, Chaitanya. If you delay, you lose.” Anu, though hesitant at first,...