" Beard to Bindi "

When Nikhil joined engineering college at the age of 18, he had his hair in an undercut style, he had a neat moustache and a light beard. He was studying in another city and used to return to his home during vacations. He started growing his hair and didn’t cut it for 2 years. His family had no problem with him growing his hair long. By the end of two years, he had grown his hair a little past his shoulders, reaching just above his upper back. He usually tied his long hair into a tight bun, secured neatly with a hairband. Every couple of weeks, he’d visit the salon for a proper oil massage and shampoo. His friends often played with his hair. Tugging at his bun, undoing his ponytail, or used to prank him by tossing bits of food or random junk into his hair. But Nikhil never really minded, he laughed along, enjoying the attention and the harmless fun.

When summer vacations rolled around, Nikhil boarded the train back home. His father wasn’t in town because he had to attend a wedding and would be away for five days. So, his mother and his 14-year-old sister were there to welcome him.

He reached his town in the morning and slept for the rest of the day. Both his mother and sister were surprised to see how great the quality of his hair was, especially since he was usually lazy about it. However, he took his hair seriously. His mother and sister also had great quality hair, but his sister had cut hers short because she found it hard and annoying to manage as it grew.

While his mother was oiling his hair, she teased him in a light-hearted way, calling him ‘badi beti’ and laughing. Then, she began admiring the length and appreciating how well he had grown his hair—it was as long as his sister’s. Without him realizing, she parted it in the middle and braided it neatly.

He didn’t really mind the braid and just had his dinner. Since his beard was a bit uneven, he went to the barber shop at night to get it cleaned up. But the barber accidentally moved the trimmer the wrong way and messed it up, so he ended up getting a clean shave. Before leaving, he asked the barber to tie his hair into a tight bun because he had to play cricket on the turf with his friends—and he didn’t want to show up with a braid and give them a reason to tease him.

When he arrived at the turf and joined his friends, they immediately noticed his clean-shaven face and the bun tied tightly at the back. They started teasing him, calling him "Smriti Mandhana" and making jokes about how he looked more like a girl than a cricket player. Despite their laughter, he ignored the comments and focused on playing the game.

When he reached home, he called out for some water while his mother and sister were in the room, busy arranging clothes.

(Nikhil walks into the house, clearly tired, and calls out from the hallway)
Nikhil: “Pani do zara…”

(His mother, busy arranging clothes in the room, hears him and calls out playfully)
Mother: “Aa gayi meri badi beti!”

His sister walks out with a glass of water. She takes one look at him—his clean-shaven face and neatly tied bun—and bursts out laughing.

Sister: “He really wants to become your badi beti, Maa!”
(Calling louder) “Maa, come look at your son!”

Nikhil sits down on the sofa quietly, knowing he probably looks a bit too soft with the bun and no beard.

His mother steps out, takes one look at him, and chuckles.

Mother: “What did you do to your beard?”

Sister: “And that bun… who tied it so nicely? Wait, did you go to the salon or something?”

Nikhil (dryly): “The barber messed up my beard with the trimmer, so I just told him to clean shave it. Then I asked him to tie the bun too—I had to play cricket and didn’t want to show up in a braid.”

Mother (smiling): “You actually look neat, just… very different.”

Sister: “Yeah, if people see you from behind, they might think you’re some college girl.”

Mother (laughing): “Bas ab uniform pehen lo aur school chali jao!”

Nikhil: “You both done? Good. I’m going to sleep.”

He walks off to his room and lies down, not caring much about the teasing, just glad to be home.

For the next two days, he felt completely bored. The only time he enjoyed was playing cricket with his friends at the turf at night. The rest of the day, he just scrolled endlessly on his phone, feeling restless and bored.

Every morning after bathing, he would go to his mother to have his hair tied in a ponytail. When he went to play cricket, he asked her to tie it in a bun. His sister often teased him about it, making fun of his hairstyles in a playful way.

After two days of boredom, he grew annoyed and frustrated. He tried all sorts of things to entertain himself, but nothing worked. He had already watched a lot of series during his hostel days, so there was nothing new left to watch. He even tried playing board games with his sister, but that quickly became boring too. By afternoon, after lunch, he started whining about it to his mother.

His mother was getting waxed by the parlor lady she had called home. Hearing his complaints, she smiled gently and said she couldn’t do much about his boredom. Instead, she asked him to help by tying his sister’s hair since she had to leave for tuition.

The parlor lady was waxing Nikhil’s mother. As she worked, she glanced at Nikhil’s long hair and couldn’t help but comment.

Parlor Lady: “Aapka beta itne lambe baal kaise rakhta hai? I was so surprised when I first saw him. I honestly thought he was a girl!”

Mother (laughing): “Haan, mujhe bhi pehli baar dekha toh laga, kya baal hain! Usually he’s pretty careless about everything, but he’s really stubborn about keeping his hair long.”

Parlor Lady: “Exactly! Boys usually don’t keep their hair this long. It’s quite unusual.”

Mother: “True. Even his sister prefers keeping her hair short because it’s easier to manage, but he insists on growing his hair long.”

Parlor Lady: “I was surprised when I heard he plays cricket with his hair tied in a bun. That’s some dedication for a boy!”

Mother: “Yeah, he’s always been a bit different. But lately, he’s been so bored and frustrated. The only time he’s really happy is when he’s out on the turf playing cricket at night.”

Parlor Lady: “Hmm, maybe that’s why he’s grown his hair long—something unique to hold on to. But boredom is tough, especially stuck at home all day doing nothing.”

Mother: “Exactly. He just scrolls on his phone all day and complains about being bored.”

Parlor Lady (smiling): “You know, it’s funny—when I first saw him, I honestly thought he was a girl until he spoke!”

Mother (laughing): “Haan, mujhe bhi wahi laga! It’s hard to imagine him with that long hair and then suddenly his deep voice.”

Parlor Lady (teasing): “Agar aapko maan ho toh, dress him up like a girl! Makeup, hairstyle—the whole makeover. It would definitely shake things up and break the boredom.”

Mother (surprised): “Dress him up? Are you serious? I don’t know if he’d even agree to that.”

Parlor Lady: “Come on, it’s just for fun! With his long hair, it wouldn’t look so strange. I can do all the makeup and hairstyling. It’ll be a great laugh for everyone.”

Mother (hesitating): “Hmm… it does sound funny. But he’s very stubborn. Still, maybe he needs a little fun like this to snap out of this mood.”

Parlor Lady: “Exactly! Sometimes a little change is all it takes when someone’s stuck in a rut.”

Mother (nodding slowly): “Alright, I’ll talk to him and see what he says.”

(Mother knocks and steps into Nikhil’s room. Nikhil is lying on the bed, phone in hand, clearly bored.)

Mother: “Kitni der se phone ghum raha hai, kuch aur kyu nahi karta?”

Nikhil (grumbling): “Kya karu Maa? There’s nothing to do. I’ve already watched everything. Even cricket at night isn’t enough.”

Mother (sits at the edge of the bed): “Toh boredom door karne ka ek tareeka socha hai maine.”

Nikhil (raising an eyebrow): “Kya? Don’t say ‘go read a book’ please.”

Mother (laughs): “Nahi beta, not that. I was thinking… why don’t we dress you up like a girl? Makeup, hairstyle, thoda masti, just for fun!”

Nikhil (instantly sits up): “Maa! No way. Please don’t start!”

Mother (smiling): “Arey, it’s not a big deal! Dekh, it’ll be fun. You’ve got long hair already, and you said you’re bored.”

Nikhil (shocked): “I said I’m bored, not crazy!”

Mother (pretending to think): “Hmm… okay, then if you say no, no phone for the next three days. And no TV or turf cricket either.”

Nikhil (groans loudly): “What?! That’s not fair, Maa!”

Mother (crossing her arms): “And if you argue more, I’ll cut your hair short. Bas. Problem solved.”

Nikhil (eyes wide): “You wouldn’t dare.”

Mother (calmly): “Tumhe pata hai main kya kya kar sakti hoon. Don’t test me.”

Nikhil (mumbling): “This is emotional blackmail.”

Mother (smiling sweetly): “Call it what you want, but it’s happening.”

Nikhil (defeated): “Okay okay, I’ll do it. But please, don’t go crazy with lipstick and all.”

Mother (grinning): “Thoda toh karenge! Don’t worry, nothing permanent.”

Nikhil (rolling his eyes): “Great. Just let me survive this.”

Mother (lightly): “By the way, the parlor lady downstairs saw you earlier and thought you were a girl from behind!”

Nikhil: “Seriously?! Even she?”

Mother: “Haan! Jab tak tumne bola nahi, she didn’t realize. We even laughed about it.”

Nikhil: “Great. Just what I needed.”

Mother (laughing): “She was the one who suggested dressing you up! Said it’ll be fun.”

Nikhil: “Wow. My life’s a comedy show now.”

Mother (cheerfully shouting downstairs): “He’s agreed! Let’s start!”

(Mother walks out of Nikhil’s room with a victorious smile and heads back to the living room, where the parlor lady is packing up her things after waxing.)

Mother (bubbling with excitement): “You won’t believe it! Nikhil has finally agreed! I’m in seventh heaven, yaar. Literally, excited as hell!”

Parlor Lady (grinning): “Arre wah! Such wonderful news! I’m so happy for you. This calls for a celebration, seriously!”

Mother (laughing): “Yes! Let’s celebrate! I can’t stop smiling. This moment… I’ve been waiting for it forever!”

Parlor Lady (playfully): “Toh phir, it’s going to take all the magic of my parlor — waxing kit, makeup kit, nail polish, everything! Don’t worry, I’ll bring it all.”

Mother (surprised): “Oh! You’ll bring all that here?”

Parlor Lady (winking): “Haan haan! You just relax. I’ll bring the whole parlor with me. You won’t have to lift a finger!”

Mother (relieved): “That’s such a relief. But… there’s a small problem.”

Parlor Lady (curious): “Kya problem?”

Mother: “Nikhil is six feet tall. And my salwar kameez… well, it’s not going to fit him at all!”

Parlor Lady (laughing): “Oh ho! Six feet, huh? That’s tall! But don’t worry, meri beti bhi six feet ki hai. I’ll bring her salwar kameez, undergarments, accessories, footwear — sab kuch! We’ll make sure he’s dressed perfectly.”

Mother (grateful): “Really? You’d do that?”

Parlor Lady: “Of course! I want everything to be perfect. You just focus on the excitement. I’ll handle the rest.”

Mother (smiling): “You’re a lifesaver. I was so worried about the fitting.”

Parlor Lady (teasing): “Arre, tension kaisi? I’ve seen and fixed worse! By the time I’m done, Nikhil will look like Kriti Sanon!”

Mother (laughs): “That’s exactly what I want! I can’t thank you enough.”

Parlor Lady: (packing imaginary kits) “Waxing kit, makeup kit, nail polish, hair straightener, perfume… bas I’m coming loaded! You call me anytime, I’m your parlor on wheels now.”

Mother (excited): “Perfect! I’ll get everything ready on my side too.”

Parlor Lady (smiling warmly): “Great! I’ll be back soon with everything. This transformation is going to be epic!”

Mother (carrying a tray with waxing strips, creams, and towels):
"Nikhil, ab jaldi se towel pehen ke aa jao. We need to get started."

Nikhil (confused and alarmed):
"Towel? Maa, what?! Why towel? What are you even talking about?"

Mother (patiently):
"Waxing karna hai, beta. We can't do it with your clothes on. Obviously."

Nikhil (groans):
"Seriously? Is this even necessary? I thought it was just makeup and hair."

Mother (sighs):
"Nikhil, you're already halfway in. We can’t skip steps now. Body hair will look odd with the look we’re going for."

Nikhil (sarcastically):
"Oh, great. Suddenly I’m a ‘look’ now. Maa, this is just getting out of hand."

Mother (firmly):
"Bas, no more arguments. Parlor aunty is ready downstairs. Just wrap a towel and come out. Let’s get this over with."

Nikhil (muttering as he walks towards the bathroom):
"This feels like some kind of punishment."

[Ten minutes later – Nikhil returns, reluctantly, in towel]

Nikhil (folding his arms):
"Okay, I’m here. Now tell me exactly how long this torture will last?"

Mother (cheerfully):
"Four hours, more or less. Full waxing – chest, arms, back, legs... sab kuch."

Nikhil (shocked):
"Four hours?! Have you lost it? That’s an entire cricket match with extra innings!"

Mother (smiling):
"Well, this is your match today. And there’s no rain delay either."

Nikhil (frustrated):
"Maa, this is seriously too much. What’s even the need? I'm fine as I am!"

Mother (gently):
"You are, beta. But you said you were bored and agreed to this. Let’s complete it properly."

Nikhil (grumbling):
"That was before I knew you meant waxing like some pageant contestant!"

[Parlor Lady enters with supplies]

Parlor Lady (smiling politely):
"Don’t worry, Nikhil beta. I’ll be as quick as I can. You just relax."

Nikhil (rolling his eyes):
"Relax, she says. While ripping my skin off."

Mother (laughing):
"Drama king! It’s not that bad. I’ve done it a hundred times."

Nikhil (sarcastic):
"Good for you! I didn’t volunteer for this ‘experience.’"

Mother:
"Beta, sit down. The sooner we start, the sooner it ends."

[As the waxing begins]

Nikhil (wincing):
"Ow! Maa! That’s not relaxing! That’s torture!"

Mother (teasing):
"Haye, itna bhi nahi dard hota. You’re acting like I asked you to walk on fire."

Nikhil (in pain):
"This is worse! At least fire is quick. This is slow agony!"

Mother (laughs):
"Acha theek hai, thoda pain toh hoga. Beauty comes with effort."

Nikhil (groaning):
"This isn’t beauty. This is a crime."

Mother:
"Aur thoda patience rakho. We’ve just finished one leg."

Nikhil (shocked):
"ONE LEG?! It’s been 45 minutes!"

[An hour later]

Nikhil (sweating and exasperated):
"Maa, are we even halfway done?"

Mother (checking clock):
"Hmm… maybe just about halfway. Back and arms left."

Nikhil (mock gasps):
"Awesome. I can't feel my soul anymore."

Mother (mock serious):
"You're so dramatic. Just two more hours. You'll survive."

[Post waxing, Mother walks in with undergarments]

Mother:
"Okay, next step. Change into this."

Nikhil (takes the garments, freezes):
"Pink bra? Panty? Maa, what is this?! No way."

Mother:
"Shhh, don’t shout. These are clean, and they’re part of the look. You need the right silhouette."

Nikhil:
"I’m not wearing a bra, okay? That’s the limit."

Mother:
"Nikhil, it’s padded. It’ll give shape. Don’t be difficult now."

Nikhil:
"I already feel stripped of my dignity. Now you want me to wear this?"

Mother (serious):
"Enough. It’s not about dignity. You agreed to this. Either go through with it or go back to boredom and phone confiscation."

Nikhil (grumbling):
"This is blackmail. Emotional. Practical. Total."

Mother:
"Call it what you want. But here, wear this. We’re almost there."

[As Nikhil changes and comes out in discomfort]

Nikhil:
"This thing is tight. And heavy. Why is the bra so heavy?"

Mother:
"That’s the padding. To make it look natural."

Nikhil:
"It feels like I’m carrying two dumbbells on my chest!"

Mother (laughing):
"Welcome to our world. And you said you were bored."

Nikhil (muttering):
"I’ll never say that again."

[Nikhil is now in the padded bra and panties, standing awkwardly in front of a mirror. He looks thoroughly uncomfortable.]

Nikhil (tugging at the straps):
“Maa, this bra is too tight. I can’t breathe properly.”

Mother (checking the fit, smiling slightly):
“Beta, it’s supposed to fit snugly. That’s how it gives shape.”

Nikhil (grumbles):
“I feel like my ribs are being crushed. And the straps keep digging in.”

Mother (mock sympathy):
“Haww, poor baby. Welcome to womanhood. We wear this for hours every single day, mind you.”

Nikhil:
“And you choose to?? I already want to rip it off.”

Mother:
“Not yet. You haven’t even worn the leggings.”

Nikhil:
“There’s more?”

Mother:
“Of course. Stand still.”

[Mother hands him a pair of bright pink leggings. He holds them up, staring.]

Nikhil:
“Maa... they’re so tight. They look like they were made for a ten-year-old.”

Mother:
“Stretchy fabric. It’ll adjust. Now put them on.”

Nikhil (mutters):
“Adjust? They look like they’ll need a crowbar to come off later.”

Mother (laughs):
“Go on. No excuses.”

[A few minutes later, Nikhil comes out in the leggings. They’re form-fitting and leave nothing to imagination. He tries to pull the waistband up, embarrassed.]

Nikhil:
“This is ridiculous. I can see my knees, my thighs, everything.”

Mother:
“That’s the point, beta. They hug your figure. You actually look… surprisingly shapely.”

Nikhil:
“I don’t want to look shapely!”

Mother (grinning):
“Too late now. Now wear this—grey salwar. It’ll soften the outline.”

Nikhil:
“Finally, something looser.”

Mother (as she helps him put it on):
“Not that loose. This one gives the perfect shape from the back.”

Nikhil (turns his head sharply):
“Maa! Don’t describe it like that.”

Mother (laughing):
“Oh come on, look in the mirror. Tumhare hips… quite something now.”

Nikhil:
“Stop! I don’t want to hear the word ‘hips’ in a sentence about me.”

[Parlor Lady, prepping makeup nearby, chuckles but says nothing. She speaks only to Mother quietly as needed.]

Parlor Lady (to Mother):
“Perfect foundation match. His skin will take makeup really well.”

Mother (smiling):
“Haan, I always told him he has flawless skin. Wasted on a boy.”

Nikhil:
“Maa, please. At least don’t say that in front of people!”

[Makeup phase begins. He’s made to sit on a stool in front of a mirror. The parlor lady applies primer, then foundation.]

Nikhil (as brush touches his face):
“This is weird. Why is it so cold?”

Mother:
“It’s just foundation. Relax.”

Nikhil (frowning):
“This feels like someone painting a wall.”

Mother:
“It is. Your face is the canvas today.”

Nikhil:
“Ugh.”

[Now eyeliner and kajal are applied.]

Nikhil (squirming):
“Maa, she’s poking my eye!”

Mother:
“She’s applying kajal. Stop blinking like a child.”

Nikhil:
“I can’t help it! It tickles!”

Mother (laughing):
“Men. One swipe of kajal and you lose it.”

Nikhil:
“Not all men put sharp pencils near their eyeballs!”

[Mascara, blush, lipstick follow. His lips are painted a glossy pink.]

Nikhil:
“This lipstick smells like candy.”

Mother:
“Be thankful. Some smell like chemicals.”

Nikhil (looking in mirror):
“I don’t even recognize myself anymore.”

Mother (gently):
“That’s the fun part, na?”

[Jewelry comes next. His mother opens a box of bangles and starts sliding them onto his arms.]

Nikhil:
“Both arms? Maa, seriously?”

Mother:
“Of course. You have two hands, right?”

Nikhil:
“They’re so noisy. And tight. And cold!”

Mother:
“You’ll get used to them. They make such a nice jingle.”

Nikhil:
“I sound like a walking wind chime.”

Mother:
“And a very pretty one.”

[Earrings next. She gently helps pierce temporary holes for clip-on jhumkas.]

Nikhil (wincing):
“Ow. This is too much.”

Mother:
“Beauty hurts, beta. We’ve already discussed this.”

Nikhil:
“Why do they hang so low? They touch my neck!”

Mother:
“That’s called elegance.”

[She then brings out her own mangalsutra and slides it around his neck. It rests just above the chest pads.]

Nikhil (touching it):
“Wait… isn’t this yours?”

Mother:
“Haan. I thought it would complete the look. It suits you more today.”

Nikhil:
“Maa, this feels… too real now.”

Mother (softly):
“Just for the day. I’ll take it back later.”

[Rings on fingers, and finally, a pink Rolex watch on his wrist.]

Nikhil (staring at it):
“Where did you even find this?”

Mother:
“Gift from your masi. You’re lucky I never wore it.”

Nikhil (resigned):
“It’s all pink. Everything is pink.”

Mother:
“That’s today’s theme. Embrace it.”

[Last step: Hair styling. She parts his hair to the side, applies soft hold spray, adds a tiny bindi, and finally brushes a thin line of vermillion.]

Nikhil:
“What’s this red stuff?”

Mother (smiling as she applies it):
“Sindoor. Just a final touch.”

Nikhil:
“Maa, I’m not getting married!”

Mother:
“No one said you were. But it completes the look. Just admire yourself once.”

[Nikhil stands fully transformed, eyes wide as he stares into the mirror. Tight pink leggings under a graceful salwar, dozens of bangles, long jhumkas, foundationed face, lipstick, and his mother’s jewelry. His hair is styled neatly, feminine and elegant.]

Nikhil:
“I don’t know if I should be impressed or terrified.”

Mother (proudly):
“Both are valid. But one thing’s for sure—you’ve never looked more graceful.”

Parlor Lady (soft chuckle, to Mother):
“He could pass for your daughter, easily.”