I, for one, have decided that whenever I do go noticeably bald I will just shave my head, an option I believe to be more dignified than prolonging the inevitable. Of course, it does not help that I have been slowly balding and gaining grey hair since I was 16. Nothing to do with the fact that I started driving and drinking at that age (not always at the same time).

So a few weeks ago, I decided to have my head shaved—not because I have reached that stage of balding, but just to see what the future held. After much deliberation and subsequent googling for what to expect afterward, I booked an appointment with my local salon. The experiences other people seemed to have were fairly positive and that was all the encouragement I needed, a lesson that the Internet must not always be believed.

I must say, the biggest surprise was that the actual act of getting my head shaved was the least eventful part. I am 24, live in south Mumbai and have predominantly Gujju/ Maadu friends (read, relatively conservative), so I should have expected everyone’s reaction. But it was difficult answering the same question EVERYBODY felt the need to ask: “Why?”

It didn’t help that the question was accompanied by a look of disbelief/disgust and some labels: Psycho, prisoner, cancer patient, the moon, attention seeker and my favourite—Humpty Dumpty.

A cousin looked respectful and asked me where I shaved my head; my response was “Beyond the Fringe”. Took me a minute to realise that he expected Tirupati or a similar religious location. The only friends who liked it were the ones that were non-Gujju/ Maadu or worked in the creative industries, which is probably an interesting coincidence.

What did surprise me, though, was the delightful new ability to feel even the slightest breeze with my shiny scalp. No more needing to have the air conditioning on full blast and a change of clothes every few hours in the Mumbai heat.

I also like the new ability to rub my head instead of my jaw while contemplating life changing decisions. Now my hair is about an army-cut, soft and allegedly thicker—but most importantly extremely therapeutic and fuzzy. Friends and family love this “hair style”, so I suppose I have learnt from this experiment that having extremely short hair is probably my best look.

Thank God, hair grows.