Nisha couldn’t stop grinning. Sitting in the barber’s chair, draped in a flimsy white cape, she felt the buzzing of the clippers against her scalp. With every pass, the vibration sent a shiver down her spine, and locks of her long black hair tumbled down to the floor like dark ribbons.
Half of her head was already bare, gleaming under the fluorescent light, while the other half still held a thick, glossy ponytail. The barber paused, waiting for her signal before moving forward. But Nisha was in no rush. She wanted to savor this moment—the in-between state where she was both who she had been and who she was becoming.
For years, people had complimented her hair, called it her “best feature.” Strangers admired it, relatives urged her never to cut it, and she herself had hidden behind it on days she didn’t feel confident. But lately, she had grown restless. She wanted to know who she was without it—what lay beyond the veil of hair that had defined her for so long.
So, she booked the appointment. She didn’t tell anyone, not even her closest friends. This was her secret rebellion, her transformation.
“Are you sure?” the barber asked, amused by her wide smile.
“More than sure,” Nisha replied, her eyes sparkling in the mirror.
She grabbed the thick ponytail still dangling from her head, gave it one playful tug, and nodded. The clippers roared back to life, and within minutes, the last of her hair fell away.
Nisha tilted her head, running her hand over the soft stubble of her scalp. She had imagined she might feel exposed, even vulnerable—but instead she felt powerful. Light. Free.
When she finally stepped out of the shop, her bald head gleamed in the sunlight, and passersby turned to look. Some with surprise, others with admiration. Nisha didn’t mind. For the first time, she wasn’t living for their approval.
She was living for herself.
And as the breeze kissed her bare scalp, she laughed out loud, knowing she’d never forget the day she discovered that freedom sometimes begins with a single, fearless choice.