The harvest 2

Harika: The bride. Harika looked up, surprised at her name being called. As the youngest daughter-in-law of the family, she wasn’t quite expecting to be called up so soon. She was also nursing a tiny glimmer of hope that she might get away without a headshave, or at least by a symbolic offering of a few inches from the ends of her hair. She stood up nervously. “M…Me?” “Yes, Harika, you. Come on.” “B-But… I don’t want to shave my head.” Priya came over to her and took her hand. “Come on Harika. This is a family tradition that has to be fulfilled. Did your mother-in-law not tell you about this before the wedding?” “She did… but…” “How long have you been married? Two years?” “Y-yes…” “Hoping you’d get away without having to offer your hair? I’m sorry dear, no exceptions. Now come.” Harika was walked to the platform recently vacated by Balamani. The platform was surrounded by clumps of wet hair shorn moments ago. Her anxiety mounting, she sat down on the platform, swallowing hard. Her throat had gone completely dry. She felt Priya’s fingers squeezing her thick, heavy bun, and extracting a few hair pins that secured it. One by one the pins dropped into the tray. A firm tug loosened her tight, immaculate bun and sent it cascading down her back. Knee length hair hung loose, awaiting Priya’s tender mercies. A couple of stifled gasps as the women realized that this would be the biggest offering on this day. “I-I was hoping to offer ‘three scissors.’” (referring to the practice of symbolically snipping a few strands of hair from three parts of the head, followed by a couple of inches off the ends.) “Unfortunately, that does not work here, Harika.” Priya picked up a comb and her lamb’s harvest. Securing her hair in a firm grip at the nape, she coiled up most of the length. She started to comb out the length of her hair. Over on the stool, Jayanthi felt a bit sorry for what Harika would be soon going through. She remembered her own shave when it happened the first time. It was at the hands of Priya’s father. Not a pleasant experience. At least Priya seemed to be a little gentler than her dad and mom when it came to handling hair. True, she expected obedience, but that was to be expected. Priya cleared her throat loudly to attract the attention of everyone there. “I see at least three young girls here. How many of you are below the age of twenty one? Deepika, I know you are twenty one, so you don’t count.” Shreya was surprised by this question. Slowly she raised her hand, looking around. Her cousins, Rekha and Sangeetha also raised their hands. “How many of you are offering your hair?” Rekha’s hand went down. “Okay, since we have a new bride on the platform, who doesn’t seem to know what the tradition is, let me explain the rules of the offerings.” Priya looked at Balamani, who smiled and nodded, asking her to continue. “This is the same platform, where one of your ancestors: Queen Keshashravasya was punished by the Goddess for her transgressions. She had infuriated the Goddess by her actions, and legend says that the Goddess Herself shaved the Queen on this pedestal. Since then, it has been a tradition for the women of the Sirovarma family. They continue to offer their hair as a penance for the sins of the Queen. “This applies to all unmarried women over the age of twenty one. Young women between the ages of sixteen and twenty one may offer their hair of their own free will. Your parents cannot force you to offer your hair. “For the girls in the family, shaves begin at twenty one, and continue till you are married. After that, it’s your choice. Like Radhika here, you can continue to offer your hair if you so please.” Priya paused looking at the young girls. No one spoke so she continued. She let down some more of Harika’s hair and continued to ease the tangles out. “All offerings MUST take place on this platform. If you are unable to come to the temple, then the only other acceptable place is your own home. No beauty salons, no barber shops. “The first offering has to be on this platform, and it will be a complete shave. For subsequent offerings, you may cut your hair at the nape instead. However, your hair must be uncut for the duration. No trims. Not even split ends. Also, a cut can only happen here. At home, it’s always a shave. “Don’t send the offering by post or courier. It has to be brought either by a family member, or by you when you next visit the village. Just don’t bring wet hair. “Offerings can technically be done every year during the festival, but because of Her grace, you are allowed to go for a maximum of five years between shaves. No more than that. Ramya’s heart sank. She had already broken three rules so far in her previous offering: A shoulder length bob, in a beauty salon, and had couriered the cut braid to Balamani’s house. She prayed that she hadn’t broken any more rules. Looking over at Balamani, she got a reproachful look. Meanwhile, Priya continued listing the rules. “If you are shaving your head at home, it has to be in the week before the rest of the family offers their hair here. Also, you have to be seated on the floor, at your barber… or barberette’s feet*. If you don’t feel comfortable with someone else, you can have your husband shave you. That is perfectly acceptable. In fact, if you feel so inclined you can actually get conjugal with your husband.” [*Accidental Barber – Padmaja’s shave] The girls blushed at the thought and Rekha stifled a giggle successfully. Ramya was feeling distraught by this point. She could have let her husband shave her. He would definitely have enjoyed that. Shreya on the other hand wondered what exactly was in store for her mom. Whether she would be caught out or get away with what she had done. “It actually applies to unmarried women as well. If you are over nineteen and you find yourself attracted to your barber or barberette, you can technically treat them as your partner for the duration of the shave*. This is, of course, within limits. She is after all the Goddess of fertility. “So, Harika, any questions? Now you know what offerings are acceptable. Keep the scissors away from your hair, and next year, I’ll give you a chin length bob.” “O-o-okay,” whimpered Harika. [*Accidental Barber – Rekha’s shave] Harika felt a firm tug as her barberette mentioned the possibility of a haircut. By now, Priya was done with the comb. Parking the comb on the top of Harika’s head, right at the crown, she neatly split the flowing length into three sections. Pulling firmly, she started a tight braid at Harika’s nape. “Can you please keep it a little loose? I don’t like braids that are tight.” “It’s only going to be for a few minutes, Harika.” For a moment there she had forgotten about the scissors waiting hungrily for her hair. She glanced over at the silver tray. Sunlight danced across the gleaming metal flecked with tiny bits of hair from Balamani. She took a deep, slightly shuddering breath as she waited for the inevitable. She felt her thick heavy hair sway as Priya continued down the length braiding it expertly. The end of the braid was tied off with an elastic band. Over at the stool, Radha had finished Jayanthi’s braid to Priya’s specifications: Neat and tight, snug at the nape. She then pulled a lock of hair loose and tucked in a decent length of woven Jasmine into her hair. She patted her on the shoulder. Jayanthi got up, pulling the braid over her shoulder to inspect it. As usual, it was immaculate and tight. Not a single strand out of place. Pity, she would be losing it soon. But she was resigned to it. Seeing Jayanthi vacate the stool, Radhika got up and went over to get prepared for her shave. Priya went into the sanctum and retrieved another length of woven Jasmine that was adorning the feet of the Goddess. Just like Jayanthi, she loosened a lock of hair in the back of Harika’s head and tucked in the flowers. The same sheet that covered Balamani was shaken out and it floated down, covering Harika. The cloth was pulled up snug against her throat. With a practiced flick she moved her braid out of the way, pulling the cloth firmly around her throat and tucking in the ends. Harika’s heart sank as the cape floated down on her. Covering her from the neck down, falling past her knees. No hint of the beautiful, sky blue, silken saree that she was wearing. What she could see, however, were strands of Balamani’s hair still stuck to it. The cloth went tightly around her throat, sending her heart into her stomach. She felt trapped on the stone platform, like a sacrificial lamb. She felt her barberette’s fingers curl around her braid, picking it up. A gentle pull on her braid, the faintest of metallic clinks as the scissors were picked up. She felt a hand on top of her head, pushing down. “Bend your head Harika…” “Y-yes, ma’am…” She bent her head obediently. She could feel the blade of the scissors sliding into her braid. A low rasping snip as the first bit of hair was cut, above the flowers in her braid. Her brain told her to yell at Priya to stop. To get up and bolt. A solitary tear trickled down her left cheek. But in one corner of her heart, she felt a strange peace. It grew with every snip that resounded in the silent temple. She felt her hair swing loose on her left side, brushing her chin. However, she obediently kept her head down as her barberette separated her from her pride and joy. Even bending her head against the barberette’s pull to make the cut easier. Priya felt the elation that comes with a conquest as she picked up Harika’s braid, pulling it gently for the cut. As she slid the scissors in, she felt a small pang of pity for her lamb. But, that was the price to pay for marrying into this family. Without hesitation she made the first snip. She carefully cut off her braid, bit by bit. Getting as much of the length as possible as she held the braid firmly pulled. At one time, she swore she could feel Harika bend her head down even more. Yielding to her harvest. She had no doubts that Harika would have shed a few tears. Normally this would be a sign that the sacrifice was not acceptable*. However that courtesy did not extend to this family, thanks to the Queen’s shenanigans. As she snipped away, she realized that this would be her trophy from this harvest. This was one braid she would not be selling. All those years of shaving women at her dad’s shop. Every year. And, this was the longest ever that she had cut. The final snip released the braid into Priya’s fist, along with the flowers that were tucked into it. She laid down the scissors. An elastic band secured the cut end tightly. Priya then coiled the braid and took it into the sanctum, laying it at the feet of the Goddess. All of Harika’s initial nervousness gone, she took one look at her chopped braid being laid at the feet of the Goddess and she felt a sense of peace steal over her. Whatever happened next, was Her will. [*A Rapunzel’s Journey – Sandhya’s shave] Radhika had woken up late and had neglected to do her hair properly. It was still in a messy bun held in place with a single ‘grabber’ clip. She barely sat on the stool when the clip was removed and her butt length hair tumbled down. Brushing the seat of the stool. Radha gathered up the hair and started to comb it out, patiently detangling the mop. Both of them watched as the new bride got her braid cut off slowly. At that moment, Radha felt just a bit envious of her sister. That was unfortunately something that would not be possible for her. At least not until she learned to wield the razor with the same dexterity that Priya and Prashanth did. Still she hoped she might get a turn with the scissors. Radhika winced as Radha’s handling got a bit rougher. She was wishing she had woken up earlier, and instead of doing up Rekha’s hair, had done her own. She had spent the last couple of months trying to convince her sixteen year old daughter to keep the tradition alive by offering her hair, but had met with firm resistance. Like Priya said, forcing her was not an option. Besides, there was no obligation for Rekha as she wasn’t a Sirovarma girl after all. She thought about Balamani’s advice about letting her be. She looked at the Goddess and thought: “If you want her hair, then I guess you have to send the right person for it.” Priya returned. Removing the comb from its perch on Harika’s head, she combed out the thick jagged pixie/bob hybrid left behind by cutting the braid so close to the occipital. Harika still kept her head bent. Reaching for the water sprayer, she changed her mind and went for the manual clippers instead. She slid her fingers into Harika’s short hair, gripping it gently and turning her head. Expertly she pushed the hair up and away from her left ear, while exposing her nape at the same time. The sharp teeth of the clippers went against the roots of the soft thick hair. Clicking the handles together, she slowly moved the clippers into the thicket of hair. Movement wasn’t completely smooth. It never was with manual clippers. Progress was also slow, but she slowly carved a path around Harika’s left ear. A clump of hair hung loose. Slowly she eased her fingers out, dropping the dark chunk of hair in her lap. Harika closed her eyes expecting the cool mist of the sprayer to soak her short hair. Instead she felt her head being adjusted gently, and her hair being lifted up. Cold steel pressed against her nape. It actually felt like the teeth of a metal comb being pressed into her skin. An unfamiliar clicking sound and the cold metal moved into her hair. Slowly. She could feel the teeth scrape against her scalp and strands of her hair being pulled as they made their way around her ear, emerging at her sideburns. Priya’s hand came out of her hair, holding a thick chunk that was dropped into her lap. Cool air caressed her exposed ear. She caught a glimpse of the tool in Priya’s hand and her heart raced. The rest of the women watched as Priya continued to shear her lamb. Though there was no hesitation or mercy, she was slow and gentle. The second pass went along the same path as the first, widening it. Another clump of dark hair fell to the cape, and some strands were stuck to Harika’s face. The third pass finished at her left temple. Her head was turned the other way and the shearing continued on her right side. Slowly, pass after pass dropped chunks of dry hair into Harika’s lap. Harika struggled to keep from squirming as the manual clippers sheared her slowly. Well not as efficient as the stubble left behind was barely even. Strands of hair were tickling her ears and face as they clung desperately to her. Clump after clump of hair rolled into her lap. Some of it spilled onto the floor. Occasionally the breeze would pick up and play with the hair, blowing it about. In a few minutes, both sides were shaved and she was left with a kind of a mohawk. Harika’s chin went into her chest as Priya pushed the remaining hair up off her nape and started to attack the bulk of what remained. Slowly advancing up the back of her head, she continued to gather the shorn locks in her hand. First the clippers stopped at the occipital, until her nape was laid bare. A large clump of hair was dropped in her lap. Then they climbed higher, right up to the crown. Another large clump of hair was dropped on the floor. Priya took a couple of moments to remove some of the more annoying strands of hair stuck to Harika’s face. For Harika, the clicking of the clippers was like a rhythmic theremin. Except for the clippers pulling the odd strand of hair every now and then, the whole experience was actually quite enjoyable and calming. She found it harder to keep from squirming as the shearing continued up over the top of her head. The clumps of hair grew bigger as they were taken from the top of her head. Eventually the clippers chewed their way out of her hair at her forehead. The last clumps of hair falling directly into her lap. She let out a low shuddering breath. The clippers were placed back on the table. Barely twenty minutes ago, she had 50+ inches of hair. Now the bulk of it lay as an offering at the Goddess’ feet, and the rest of it was in piles on her lap and at her feet. She felt Priya’s firm hand rub her head, and a cool mist followed. It barely took half a dozen sprays to get her head dripping wet. Water was running down her face and into her nape. Standing before her, Priya slid a fresh blade into her straight razor. Her head was pulled forward, and she felt her barberette stretch her scalp to meet the sharp razor. At some point through the shearing of Harika, Radhika’s braid was also completed. Flowers were placed as required by the barberette. She got up off the stool and sat down with the others to wait her turn. She had never seen manual clippers being used before. It evoked a strange mixture of wonder and fear. Radha beckoned to Vandana who got up and went to the stool. Her loose bun came undone at the slightest touch of Radha’s hands. Thick, slightly wavy hair fell down to her waist. The ends looked to be recently cut. Radha suppressed a smile as she gathered up the hair for the combing. Priya would definitely not be happy. Priya’s wrists were feeling a little bit sore. Nevertheless she grabbed the sprayed and misted down the stubble on Harika’s head. Standing in front of her, she swapped the blade and pulled her head forward for better access. For all her nervousness, Harika was now completely compliant and obedient. All part of the sacrifice. She stretched her scalp at the crown and started to run the razor down to her forehead. Carefully she scraped off the stubble. Wiping the blade on her wrist like a barber would. Long confident strokes in the absence of hair made her job easier. The 2-3 mm of stubble left behind came off effortlessly, made all the more easier by Harika’s cooperation. She leaned forward, submitting completely to Priya. As the razor glided over her nape, down to her shoulders, she realized that for the first time in her life, a sense of peace and calm had stolen over her. She let out a contented sigh as Priya cleaned off her head and face with a small towel. The cape was loosened and removed, sending the remnants of her hair to the floor. As she stepped off, she saw the small clumps of hair being blown about like tumbleweed. She walked over to sit back down realizing that it was just that: A bunch of hair. Something that served as a crutch to prop her ego up. But now, without that weight on her head, she felt light, free, and most importantly, a person not defined by a thick long braid hanging down her back.