The Legendary Head Shave Tales

Likitha lay sprawled on her bed, phone in hand, scrolling through endless reels of hairstyles and haircut videos. Her room was a mix of girlish chaos and hairstyling paradise—magazines stacked near the dresser, tiny clips scattered on the floor, combs, scissors, and hair sprays arranged stylishly. Posters of famous actresses with perfect hair adorned the walls. Her amma called from the kitchen, “Likitha papa, bhojanam ready!” Likitha barely looked up, murmuring a soft, “Coming, amma.” Her mother peeked into the room, noticing her daughter’s fascination with the hairstyles and assumed she was just excited about becoming a salonist. Smiling, she left with a casual, “Enjoy ra, but dont forget to eat well, ok na.”  unaware of the obsession brewing in Likitha’s mind her mother left busy in preparing for the lunch. Back on her bed, Likitha scrolled a few more reels until an idea struck her. “Abba… let’s try this!” she whispered to herself, excited. She jumped up and walked toward he...

Amulya’s life had changed the day her father passed away. The small pension that came after his death became the backbone of their survival. Her marriage to Venkata Ramana had been arranged in haste, her mother believing a strong man would protect her gentle daughter. But instead of protection, Ramana’s arrogance became another chain around her neck. Vasundhara, his old mother, lived in the same house—silent, sad, unable to question her son’s temper. The little tiled-roof house in the dusty Gunturu village became the stage for Amulya’s daily struggles, each day beginning with fear of what Ramana would demand next. Amulya woke before sunrise, bathing quickly with the chill water from the backyard drum. Draped in a faded cotton saree, her hair middle parted and tied into a long braid, she stepped into the kitchen. Grinding chutney on the stone slab, lighting the stove, and sweeping the small courtyard. Despite all her efforts, she never heard a word of appreciation. To her, serving the f...

Ever since Disha got into the flow of her new project, the bald look had slowly become a part of her daily life. The early awkwardness had faded, and now, after every fresh head shave, she would look at her reflection and smile. The shooting was progressing smoothly, and her confidence was growing with each scene. One evening, stepping out of a celebrity gym in Mumbai, she was quickly surrounded by paparazzi. Luckily, she had already pulled on her stylish bonnet cap that hugged her scalp.  The flashbulbs popped. One cameraman shouted, “Disha ma’am, new cap? New fashion?” She smirked, tilted her head playfully,  and replied, “Haan haan… naye cap ke saath naye vibes!” She didn’t stop to explain further, just waved and slid into her car. Inside, she gently rubbed the fabric of the cap over her smooth scalp and whispered to herself, “They have no idea… mera pyaara sa ganja sirr.” A few days later, she attended her best friend’s birthday party in Bandra.  She arrived in an ora...

The morning sunlight slipped into the Bengaluru flat where Disha sat, sipping her black coffee, still tired from last night’s Siima Awards event, but today felt different — her manager had scheduled a meeting with none other than Upendra, the Kannada director known for his unpredictable direction. At 10, the bell rang. Disha opened the door to find him standing there, calm and stylish. “Hi Disha,” he said with a gentle nod. “I hope I’m not too early.” She smiled, a little surprised by his simplicity. “Not at all, Uppi sir, please come in.”  They both knew of each other — she had admired his raw storytelling,  and he had followed her work with interest, but this was their first face-to-face. As they settled down in the living room, a quiet energy filled the air. After a few minutes of light talk, Upendra leaned forward and started narrating the story — a deeply emotional, unconventional Telugu film about a young widow’s journey through grief, silence, and strength. Disha listen...

It had been a year since that unforgettable day, when Aditya realized he couldn’t live without her. Time flew by, and now they were no longer just college lovers — they were husband and wife. Nidhi was 22, Aditya 23. They had both just completed college, and with their families’ blessings and a heart full of memories, they were finally married. The wedding was small but beautiful, just their close friends and family, all smiling, laughing, dancing. Nidhi looked stunning. Aditya couldn’t take his eyes off her.  The shaadi ended with a quiet promise — to always stay honest, no matter what life brought.  A week later, they were on their honeymoon — in a quiet hill station, in the silence of the night, under a warm blanket they talked like old friends, like lovers, like partners.”You remember that day when I told you I had cancer?” Nidhi asked, playfully resting her head on his chest. Aditya chuckled, “You fooled me so well… I actually thought I was losing you yaar” She smiled. “A...