Lockdown haircut again! by aryan agrawal

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### The Second Forced Head Shave

It had been a few months since my first forced head shave, and I was finally enjoying my hair again. But then came another wave of lockdown restrictions, and with it, my dad’s strictness returned like a storm on the horizon.

One evening, as I lounged in my room, my dad stormed in, holding that same old beard trimmer with fierce determination. "Aryan, your hair is out of control! We’re not going to let it get like last time!" he declared, his voice booming.

"Dad, please! It’s just hair! I can manage it!" I protested, desperation creeping into my voice. But he waved my words away. "No more excuses. Outside, now!"

My stomach twisted in knots as I followed him to the front yard. I sat on the stool, feeling like I was about to face a firing squad. "This is so unfair," I mumbled, but he ignored me.

"Hold still," he ordered, switching on the clippers. The buzzing filled the air, and dread washed over me. "Dad, you can’t just—" I began, but he was already moving in.

The first swipe took a large chunk of hair, and I gasped. "You’re going too fast!" I yelled, panic rising. "Please, don’t cut off everything!" I begged, but my words fell on deaf ears.

"Discipline, Aryan! You need to learn!" he barked, his eyes locked onto the task. As he moved to the front, I felt tears prick at my eyes. "Dad, please! Not all of it! Just trim it! I don’t want to be bald again!"

"Stop moving!" he snapped, slapping my shoulder lightly to emphasize his command. "This is your own fault! If you kept it neat, we wouldn’t be here!"

Each pass of the clippers felt more brutal than the last. "You’re not a barber! You don’t know what you’re doing!" I shouted, but he gripped my shoulder tighter, resolute in his actions.

"Enough of this! I’m doing what’s best for you!" he shouted, his voice rising. Just when I thought he might relent, he decided to take it up a notch.

"I think it’s time for a clean shave," he said, a smirk creeping onto his face. My heart sank. "No! Please don’t!" I begged, feeling a wave of despair wash over me. "Just a trim! I don’t want to lose it all again!"

"Don’t make this harder than it needs to be!" he said, pressing the clippers closer. I felt my resolve crumbling as I clenched my fists in frustration. "This is brutal! You can’t do this!" I shouted, tears now flowing freely down my cheeks.

"Watch me," he said coolly, his grip steady as he continued to shave. With each stroke, I felt like a piece of my dignity was being stripped away. "This is a lesson, Aryan! You need to learn!"

"Please, Dad! Not everything! Just leave me some hair!" I cried, squirming in the stool, desperate to escape. But he was unmoved.

Finally, he leaned in closer, frustration boiling over. "Stop acting like a child! You’re not getting out of this!" he snapped, delivering a firm slap to my cheek.

When he finally stepped back, I braced myself for the mirror. I was completely bald again, and I hardly recognized myself. "There! Now it’s even," he said, satisfaction evident in his voice.

"You look good! We should do this every few months," he joked, but I felt nothing but defeat. My heart ached with the weight of humiliation, and I could only stare at my reflection in disbelief.

As I walked back inside, feeling the sting of his words and the loss of my hair, I realized I had to find a way to cope with this forced change once more. I might be subjected to this punishment....

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