My Summer Haircut Story –Becoming Takla by Vivan Patil

---

Hello,

I am a 21-year-old student pursuing my master’s degree. Studying at home during summer in Mumbai is extremely difficult, especially when you live in a small apartment with a joint family. Before the monsoon, BMC cuts the top branches of trees, so the little shade we used to get disappears. Sunlight directly enters the house, and there is barely any airflow. The room feels hot and suffocating.

During this time, my hair had grown quite long. It was always wet with sweat. The hair kept falling onto my forehead. My moustache had grown so much that it was touching my lips. My goatee beard was long, and even my underarm hair had grown. I used to sit in my room wearing shorts and a tank top, staring at the window, hoping some wind would come inside. But the air felt still. I kept thinking about what I could do to feel more comfortable.

My mother suggested, "Go get a haircut."

That’s when an idea came to my mind — why not shave my head completely? Become fully takla (completely bald).

But I felt nervous.
What would people say?
Would society members stare at me?
Would I feel embarrassed going outside?

So I couldn’t decide immediately.

Leaving It to Fate

After thinking a lot, I decided to leave it to fate. I opened an online "Spin the Wheel" and added two options:

Complete takla

Buzz cut

I decided to spin it three times and follow the majority result.

First spin — Buzz cut.
Second spin — Takla.

It was equal. One last spin remained. My heart was beating fast. I was scared. If takla came again, I would have to do it.

I spun the wheel — Takla.

Still, I was unsure. So in my mind I took a promise ("maa kasam" — I swear on my mother) that I would spin one final time and accept whatever came.

Again — Takla.

At that moment, it felt like the decision had already been made.

Talking to My Mother

I went to my mother and asked,
"Mummy, should I become takla?" ("Mummy, main takla ho jaaun kya?")

She laughed and said, "Yes, go ahead."

I asked, "People will look at me."

She replied casually, "Wear a cap." ("Cap pehen lena.")

I asked her, "Should I remove my moustache completely too?"

She said, "No, don’t remove the moustache. Just trim it short."

That gave me some courage.

I put money in my wallet, took my cap (because I knew I would return home takla), picked up my bike keys, and left.

The Signal â€" The Final Decision

At a traffic signal, I had to make my final choice.

If I turned right, I would go to the new salon.
If I turned left, I would go to the old barber where I used to go as a child.

The signal turned green.

I took the left turn.

At the Old Barber Shop

The shop was small, located under an old tree. There was only one customer before me, a boy getting his hair cut very short because of the heat.

Then it was my turn.

The barber uncle recognized me. He smiled and tied a red cloth around me. He asked,

"How do you want your hair?"

I said, "Uncle, it’s very hot… make me takla."
("Uncle, garmi bahut hai… takla kar do.")

He looked at me carefully and asked again,
"Are you sure?" ("Pakka na beta?")

I replied firmly,
"Yes uncle, full takla." ("Haan uncle, poora takla.")

The Head Shaving

He began by spraying water on my hair. Slowly, all my hair became wet. Water droplets fell onto the cloth wrapped around me. I looked at myself in the mirror one last time with hair.

For a second, I thought of saying no.
But I stayed quiet.

He inserted a blade into the razor ("ustara").

The first stroke was on the back left side of my head.

I could clearly feel the razor moving.
I could feel the hair being removed.

The back left portion became clean — completely takla.

Cool air touched that shaved part. It felt cold and strange.

He said, "The wind is strong; the water dried." ("Hawa bahut hai, paani sukh gaya.")
He sprayed water again.

Then he shaved the back right side, leaving some hair in the middle. He asked,
"Should I keep a braid?" ("Choti rakhu?")

I said, "Yes, but not too long. Keep it medium." ("Choti rakho, par zyada badi mat.")

Then he moved to the front right side. As he shaved, I looked into the mirror — half my head was now takla.

Then he shaved the left front side.

Now my entire head was takla except for the small choti.

He changed the blade and shaved again to remove even the smallest remaining hair. I could feel every smooth stroke of the razor. The cool air was directly touching my bald scalp.

I slipped my hand out from the cloth and touched the choti.
"Make it slightly shorter." ("Thoda aur chhota karo.")

He adjusted it.

Then he rubbed alum stone on my scalp. It stung slightly. He wiped my head clean and applied powder.

Beard and Final Touch

I said, "Uncle, shave my beard too."

He replaced the cloth with a towel, lowered the chair, and applied shaving foam.

I told him,
"Remove the goatee. Keep only a thin moustache."
("Goatee nikaal do, patli si mooch rakho.")

He shaved my beard and trimmed my moustache. Then he applied alum again.

When I got down from the chair, I saw my hair scattered all over the floor.

My head was completely takla. The small choti was moving gently in the wind.

I then said, "Uncle, please shave my underarm hair as well."

I removed my shirt, and he cleaned that too.

I paid him and thanked him.

Returning Home

I wore my cap. It fit tightly over my freshly shaved head.

I rode my bike back home.

When I entered the house, everyone was shocked. Only my mother knew that I was going to become takla.

Later, when I took a bath and water touched my bald head, the feeling was completely different.

Light.
Cool.
Free.

That was the day I truly became takla.

---