NAVYA- 12th

It had been almost a year and half since Navya returned home after her 10th board success. Her relatives praised her, some even jokingly touched her short hair back then for luck. Slowly, her hair started growing again, and so did her stubbornness. She was back to her old ways—spending hours with hair clips, hair care videos, and mirror selfies. She had scored poorly in her 11th standard. No one said much, but everyone noticed. Now, only three months were left for her 12th board exams. Her parents were tense. Her mother sat quietly one evening, looking at her daughter’s thick, mid back length braid as Navya laughed while watching a Korean hair makeover reel. “I think it’s time,” her father said. “Hmm,” her mother replied. “Let Bhushan garu take care of her again. Only he can make her focus.” So once again, Navya was packed off to her Bhushan uncle’s house. Sarala aunty opened the door, her sharp eyes immediately scanning Navya from top to toe. “Come, kanna,” she said with a forced smile. “We’ll fix your focus this time.” Navya’s days started with early coffee and long silences. Rules were stricter now. Amala was married and gone, and Navya was the only girl in the house. Still, she found secret moments to oil her hair herself, comb it nicely, and admire it when no one watched. But her tricks didn’t last. One morning, Sarala caught her applying homemade hibiscus paste and clicking selfies in the veranda mirror. That same evening, Bhushan came home, furious after hearing everything. “No excuses this time,” he said. “It’s not just a haircut. It’s a full tonsure. Bald head. Let her study without this distraction.” Navya gasped. “Please, uncle! I’ll stop! Please don’t…” But it was already decided. Sunday morning came. Sarala made her sit on the floor with a steel bowl of warm coconut oil. Her hands worked silently, rubbing the oil deep into Navya’s scalp, massaging her temples slowly. It felt strangely calming—like the final silence before a storm. Sarala tightly braided her long, shining hair one last time and tied it with a red ribbon. “Wear your shawl, kanna. We’re going out,” she said casually. Navya knew. She didn’t cry. She didn’t fight. Her legs were weak, heart pounding. The roadside barbershop was small and a dusty mirror leaned against the wall. The barber stood ready, wiping a blade. Sarala gave him one look. “Full gundu, nunnaga kathi tho geekey.” Navya sat on the old red chair. Her eyes stared at herself. The braid hung behind her shoulder like a final memory. The barber didn’t speak. He took out his scissors and with a sharp krrrrk sound, began cutting off the thick braid. Piece by piece, her hair fell around her like shadows. Finally, he picked up the blade, lathered her head, and began scraping slowly, carefully—each stroke revealing more smooth skin beneath. When it was done, she looked like someone else. Her head shone in the sunlight, smooth and bare. Sarala placed her hand gently on Navya’s head. “Now you are ready.” Every morning after that, Sarala would apply oil on her bald head and gently rub it, like a ritual. “Mind will be cool, kanna,” she said. “You study sharp now.” Navya no longer had mirrors in her room. No distractions. Just books, study table, and the ticking clock. And she studied. Day and night. She read aloud, wrote nonstop, revised until her fingers ached. Navya’s two-month journey was strict and repetitive . Every morning, Sarala aunty would prepare cool turmeric paste and gently apply it onto Navya’s smooth scalp and Every night , she would prepare warm coconut oil and gently massage it onto Navya’s smooth scalp. Every Sunday, by 7 AM, the old barber would arrive. Sarala aunty would already be waiting with a clean shawl in hee hand, and Navya would silently step out of her room, her eyes down,and small grown stubble from the last week’s shave. May be an image of 2 people The stool sat in the same corner near the tulasi plant. Navya would sit, wrapping the shawl around her slender shoulders. The barber would begin wetting her scalp, rubbing a bit of warm foam, then drawing his straight razor. Each stroke was clean and slow, the only sound was the whisper of blade against skin and the distant cawing of crows. Once the shave would have been done, Sarala would gently wipe her scalp and would apply a light coat of oil. The first few weeks, neighbors and colony aunties stared, whispering things like, “Again bald?” or “Poor girl, strict family…” But Navya stopped caring. Her reflection showed a clean, bold girl with a fire in her eyes. Back home, her days were filled with books, notes, and revision charts. Without the weight of her hair or the distractions of self-admiration, her mind felt lighter, sharper. Sarala ensured she ate on time, slept early, and didn’t touch a phone. Even at night, as the breeze brushed against her bare scalp under the fan, Navya felt a cool determination. Her teachers began noticing her sudden focus. “Navya has changed,” one of them said. Week after week, shave after shave, she transformed—not just in looks, but in willpower. Her bald head wasn’t a punishment anymore; it became her crown of discipline. Finally, the exams were over. A month after that, Navya’s hair had grown into a short boycut, results were declared and navya scored 95% and became the district topper. when news came that the district topper would be interviewed on TV. Bhushan didn’t wait. “Call the barber,” he said firmly. That afternoon, Navya sat quietly on the verandah stool once again. No resistance, no questions—only silence as the barber lathered her head and began shaving it smooth, each stroke clean under the soft afternoon sun. The blade glided over her scalp, leaving no trace of hair—only a gleaming bald head, shining with quiet pride. Sarala aunty carefully applied cool sandal paste over her head, the fragrance soothing, almost sacred. Dressed in a simple red saree, Navya stepped out with her glowing scalp and calm face reflecting her complete transformation.The TV interview was held, Cameras rolled as Navya walked onto the stage, her head completely shaved, smooth and glowing under the bright lights. The audience murmured in surprise, but her calm smile silenced them. The host greeted her warmly, “You’ve become an inspiration, Navya. Tell us your secret.” Navya folded her hands and replied softly, “Discipline… and removing distractions. I gave my full focus, and this,” she touched her bald head gently, “helped more than I expected.” The host smiled curiously, glancing at her shining yellow scalp. “Navya, many are surprised by your look. What made you keep your head shaved even today?” Navya smiled gently. “At first, it was a punishment. But later, it became my strength. No mirror distractions, no hair to worry about… only books and peace.” Another reporter asked, “Didn’t you feel odd going bald as a young girl?” Navya replied calmly, “I did… the first time. But now, it feels natural. This bald head reminds me of how far I’ve come.” The crowd applauded. Her red saree and shining yellow scalp stood out—a symbol of transformation. She didn’t flinch, didn’t hide. She had earned this moment. Days later as Navya sat inside the bus ready to go back to her home town. her bag on her lap. The cool breeze hit her freshly grown stubble. She smiled. She had scored 95 percent. District topper. She looked outside at the green paddy fields flying past and whispered to herself with a smile,“No hair… no problem.”