The Tirumala Twist

The Tirumala Twist The sun blazed high above the seven hills of Tirumala, casting a golden glow over the bustling temple town. Radhika, a spirited 24-year-old with waist-length black hair she’d nurtured since childhood, adjusted her dupatta as she walked alongside her best friend, Sneha, and her younger brother, Arjun. The trio had arrived at Tirumala the previous evening after a long drive from Hyderabad, intending to offer prayers at the Sri Venkateswara Temple. It was supposed to be a simple family pilgrimage—until it wasn’t. Radhika’s glossy hair fluttered in the warm breeze as she turned to Sneha, whose shoulder-length curls bounced with every step. “I still can’t believe you convinced me to wake up at 3 a.m. for the Suprabhatam darshan,” Radhika grumbled, though her eyes sparkled with excitement. Sneha grinned, brushing a stray curl from her face. “You’ll thank me when you see how peaceful it is. Besides, Arjun’s the one who’s really suffering—look at him dragging his feet.” Arjun, a lanky 19-year-old with a mop of untamed hair, yawned dramatically. “I’m only here because Mom said I’d get good grades if I prayed. And maybe some laddoos,” he added, perking up at the thought of the temple’s famous prasadam. The plan was straightforward: darshan at the temple, a quick breakfast, and then back to their guesthouse. But fate, as it often does in Tirumala, had other ideas. The Misadventure Begins After the darshan, the trio wandered through the temple complex, marveling at the intricate carvings and the throngs of devotees. As they approached the tonsure center near the main temple, Radhika noticed a crowd gathered around a group of barbers wielding gleaming razors. Men, women, and children sat cross-legged on the floor, patiently awaiting their turn to offer their hair to the deity. “Look at that,” Radhika said, nudging Sneha. “People actually shave their heads here. Can you imagine?” Sneha chuckled. “Yeah, imagine me bald. I’d look like an egg with eyebrows.” Arjun smirked, running a hand through his messy hair. “You’d both look weird without hair. Especially you, Didi,” he teased Radhika. “Your hair’s basically your personality.” Radhika swatted his arm playfully. “Very funny. Let’s go—Mom’s waiting for us to call her.” But as they turned to leave, a wiry old man in a white dhoti intercepted them. His eyes twinkled with mischief, and he carried a small clipboard. “Excuse me, young ones,” he said in a thick accent. “You’ve been selected!” The trio froze. “Selected?” Radhika asked, frowning. “For what?” The man beamed, revealing a gap-toothed smile. “For the tonsure seva! Special blessing today. Free of cost, straight from the temple authorities. You three are lucky!” Sneha blinked. “Wait, what? You mean shaving our heads?” “Yes, yes!” the man said, nodding vigorously. “Very auspicious day. Lord Venkateswara will be pleased. Come, come, no delay!” Arjun laughed nervously. “Uh, no thanks, Uncle. We’re good with our hair.” But before they could protest further, a group of temple volunteers appeared, ushering them toward the tonsure area with surprising efficiency. Radhika tried to argue. “There’s been a mistake! We didn’t sign up for this!” The old man waved his clipboard. “Your names are here—Radhika, Sneha, Arjun. See? All confirmed!” Radhika snatched the clipboard and scanned it. Sure enough, their names were scrawled in messy handwriting. “This isn’t possible! Who wrote this?” No one answered. The volunteers gently but firmly guided them to the tonsure center, where the sound of razors buzzing filled the air. Radhika’s heart raced. “This is a prank, right? Sneha, tell them we’re not doing this!” Sneha, usually the bold one, looked equally panicked. “I—I don’t know how this happened! Maybe it’s some mix-up?” Arjun, meanwhile, was trying to back away, only to be blocked by a burly volunteer. “Didi, do something! I don’t want to be bald!” The Unexpected Turn Before they could escape, the trio found themselves seated on the tiled floor, capes draped around their shoulders. Three barbers stood behind them, sharpening their razors with practiced ease. Radhika’s protests grew louder. “Wait, wait! We didn’t agree to this! Call your supervisor!” The head barber, a stout man with a kind but stern face, shook his head. “Madam, your names are on the list. It’s a divine calling. Once you’re here, it’s Lord Venkateswara’s will.” “Divine calling?!” Radhika sputtered. “This is a mistake! I’ve spent years growing my hair!” Sneha clutched her curls protectively. “Yeah, and I just got a haircut last week! I’m not ready to lose it all!” Arjun, wide-eyed, whispered, “What if Mom sees me like this? She’ll think I joined a cult!” The barber ignored their pleas, dipping his fingers in a bowl of water and sprinkling it over Radhika’s head. She yelped. “No, stop! I’ll sue you!” But the volunteers chanted softly in the background, and the atmosphere felt strangely sacred. Radhika’s resolve wavered as the razor’s first hum echoed in her ears. She turned to Sneha, who was gripping the edge of her cape like a lifeline. “Sneha, say something!” Sneha gulped. “Uh… maybe it’s not so bad? It’s just hair, right? It’ll grow back?” Radhika glared at her. “You traitor!” The barber made the first pass, and a long lock of Radhika’s hair fell to the ground. She gasped, tears prickling her eyes. “My hair! Oh my God, this is really happening!” Next to her, Sneha’s curls began tumbling down as her barber worked swiftly. Sneha let out a nervous laugh. “Okay, this feels… weirdly liberating?” Arjun wasn’t as philosophical. “Nooo! My cool hairstyle!” he wailed as the razor buzzed over his scalp, leaving him with a shiny dome in minutes. The Transformation Within fifteen minutes, it was over. The barbers stepped back, satisfied with their work. Radhika, Sneha, and Arjun sat in stunned silence, running their hands over their freshly shaved heads. The cool breeze against their scalps felt alien, and the weight of their lost hair was replaced by a strange lightness. Radhika touched her head gingerly, her fingers trembling. “I look like a monk,” she whispered. Sneha, ever the optimist, grinned. “We’re matching monks! Honestly, it’s not terrible. Look at me—I’m kind of rocking this.” Arjun groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I’m never leaving the house again.” The old man reappeared, clapping his hands. “Beautiful! You three look blessed now. Lord Venkateswara is happy!” Radhika narrowed her eyes at him. “Who are you, anyway? Did you set us up?” The man winked mysteriously. “Just a humble servant of the Lord. Enjoy your blessing!” With that, he vanished into the crowd. As they stood up, dusting off their capes, a group of devotees nearby began clapping. “Very nice offering!” one woman said, smiling. “Such devotion!” “We didn’t have a choice!” Radhika snapped, but the woman only laughed. The Aftermath Back at the guesthouse, their mother’s jaw dropped when she saw them on a video call. “What happened to my children?!” she shrieked. “Did you join a cult?!” “It’s a long story, Mom,” Radhika sighed, rubbing her bald head. “Blame Arjun.” “Me?!” Arjun yelted. “You’re the one who didn’t fight hard enough!” Sneha, meanwhile, was already posing for selfies. “I’m posting this on Instagram. Caption: ‘New look, new vibes.’” Over the next few days, the trio adjusted to their unexpected transformation. Radhika, though initially devastated, began to see the humor in it. Sneha embraced her baldness with confidence, and Arjun—after much sulking—decided it made him look “edgy.” As they left Tirumala, Radhika glanced back at the temple atop the hill. “Well,” she said with a smirk, “at least we’ve got a story to tell.” Sneha nodded. “And a free haircut.” Arjun muttered, “Next time, I’m staying in the car.” And with that, the three bald siblings drove off, their heads gleaming in the sunlight, forever bonded by their bizarre Tirumala adventure. I hope you enjoyed this unexpected and playful tale! Let me know if you’d like any adjustments or additions.