“A Year with Long Hair”

Part 1: The Hair Refusal and Mother’s Rules

Vansh had always been careful about his appearance. At six feet tall, with a lean build and sharp features, he drew attention without trying. His moustache had begun to fill in lightly, and a small beard gave him an adult look. After passing his tenth-grade exams, he had decided to take a break from the strict school routine and focus on preparing for the dummy college curriculum at home. He had cut his hair short during school, keeping a neat buzz cut. But once the exams were over, he decided to let it grow. He thought long hair suited him, and, secretly, he had always liked the idea of it.

At first, his mother, Vinita, had no objections. “It’s your hair,” she had said, “grow it as long as you want.” But as months passed and his hair reached his neck, the texture began to look rough. The ends were dry, and dandruff had started appearing. Vinita noticed it but didn’t comment immediately. She hoped he would cut it himself soon.

It was almost a year after he had passed his exams when Vinita gently broached the subject. “Vansh, your hair… I think it’s time you trimmed it. It looks rough now,” she said one morning over breakfast. Vansh, eating slowly, barely looked up. “I’ll cut it before Diwali, Maa. Don’t worry.” His voice was calm, almost dismissive.

Diwali came and went. Vansh’s hair grew longer, reaching his shoulders, tangled and coarse at the tips. Vinita asked again. “Vansh, I think you should really trim it now. It’s not looking healthy.” Vansh smiled faintly, “I’ll cut it after the competitive exams, Maa. Soon, I promise.”

The months passed. June came, and with it, another gentle reminder. “Vansh, your hair…” Vinita began, but he interrupted, “Maa, I said after the exams. I need it for a while more.” She nodded, suppressing her irritation.

Finally, when the wedding of a cousin approached, she tried once more. “Vansh, please. Before the wedding, at least trim it?” He shook his head firmly. “I’ll do it before the wedding, Maa. Trust me.” That day, Vinita realized patience had its limit.

She called him to the living room. “Vansh,” she began, her tone calm but firm, “your hair quality is very poor now. It’s rough, dry, and full of dandruff. I cannot let it stay like this. So, I am setting some rules. From tomorrow…” Vansh’s eyes widened slightly as she continued. “If you don’t cut it, I will take care of it. And, if you want to keep growing it indoors, you will follow my rules.”

He listened, intrigued and nervous. “Rules?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “First, your hair must always be tied when you are inside the house. Second, you will help me with household chores. Third, you will wear girls’ clothes at home if you wish to grow it. Kurti, leggings, and dupatta. Fourth, your moustache must be trimmed; it cannot grow until you cut your hair. You may go outside wearing normal clothes and meet your friends, but inside, these rules will apply.”

Vansh hesitated. “Girls’ clothes, Maa?” he said softly. “I mean, inside the house…?”

Vinita’s tone softened. “If you want long hair, this is the compromise. Otherwise, cut it.”

He nodded slowly. It was not what he had expected, but he wanted to keep his hair long. “Okay, Maa,” he said, “I’ll follow your rules.”

The next day, Vinita prepared him for his first routine. “First, you will shave completely,” she instructed. Vansh went to the bathroom and shaved his face, feeling the cool water run over his skin. Then she brought out a yellow kurti, soft but slightly stiff, paired with pink leggings. “Wear this,” she said, handing it to him. He slipped into the kurti, feeling the snugness of the leggings. The kurti felt unusual, like a long shirt, but the fabric brushed against his arms and shoulders softly.

Vinita took a dupatta and draped it over his shoulders. Vansh tried to adjust it, but she gently pinned it in place. “Hold still,” she said firmly but lovingly. Then she picked up six bangles for each hand. Vansh hesitated, shaking his head. “Maa, it feels tight, and… it’s too many,” he murmured. Vinita ignored his protests, slipping each bangle onto his wrists, the soft clinking sound echoing as she stacked them neatly.

She moved to his ears. Vansh had pierced ears with small male studs, but she carefully removed them and replaced them with tiny golden jhumkas. “You’ll get used to them,” she said. “They are light. Just listen to them tinkle; it’s a part of this routine now.”

His hair had been shampooed the previous night and was still damp. Vinita combed it gently, complaining quietly about its roughness. “You see this, Vansh? It’s all tangled, and ends are rough. We’ll fix it,” she muttered. Then she tied it into a loose ponytail, securing it at the nape of his neck. Vansh looked at his reflection, feeling awkward and strange, but he said nothing.

Alka Bai, the maid, entered the room carrying a basket of laundry. She did not comment on Vansh’s appearance; she never did. Today, Vansh was to accompany her. Vinita instructed, “Help Alka Bai with chores. Wash dishes, dust the house, fold laundry properly, and peel vegetables.” Vansh followed her instructions, carrying the basket and helping her move around. The tasks were simple but repetitive: he washed the dishes slowly, wiped each plate carefully, dusted shelves and tables, folded clothes neatly, and peeled vegetables. Alka Bai moved around him naturally, not looking at him differently or asking questions about his new look.

Vansh’s new routine settled into place. He woke up at seven in the morning, bathed, and dressed in the kurti and leggings, tying his hair as instructed. He studied from 8 to 10, then assisted in household chores from 10 to 2, peeled vegetables, dusted, folded laundry. After lunch and study from 2 to 6, he changed into casual clothes—T-shirt and bermuda—and went out with friends. By evening, he returned, helped briefly if needed, had dinner, and went to sleep.

He had seven kurtis and four leggings in rotation, along with four sets of bangles, numerous hairpins, and small accessories. The leggings felt tight at first, and the kurti seemed stiff, but slowly, he adapted. Every morning and evening, he handled his hair carefully. Alternate days were devoted to oiling, shampooing, and conditioning. His hair, once coarse and rough, slowly became smoother. Dandruff reduced, and shine returned. Vinita supervised gently, correcting his ponytails, braid attempts, and pinning the dupatta. She gave instructions in a simple, calm voice, and Vansh began learning to follow them naturally.

Weeks passed. Vansh’s hair grew healthier. He became comfortable in the kurti, leggings, bangles, and jhumkas. The sound of the bangles became familiar, a soft clinking that reminded him of the daily rhythm. He learned to move around the house, peeling vegetables, dusting, folding laundry, and washing dishes with a careful, methodical pace. He studied diligently in the morning and afternoon, and in the evenings, he enjoyed the freedom of casual clothes and outings.

Alka Bai continued her work, never mentioning his appearance, letting him adjust without pressure. Vansh’s mother remained a gentle presence, guiding him, teaching him, and occasionally commenting on the improvement in his hair. “Look at it now, Vansh,” she said one evening, running her fingers through his ponytail. “Much better. Smooth, shiny, almost no dandruff. We are taking care of it properly.”

Vansh nodded, looking in the mirror. The roughness had disappeared, and his hair had a healthy weight. Though he still felt awkward in the kurti and bangles at times, he was slowly embracing the routine. This was only the beginning, he realized, but the structure, the care, and the daily rhythm were teaching him patience, discipline, and pride in his appearance.

Five months passed in this manner. Vansh woke up at seven, bathed, dressed in his kurti and leggings, tied his hair, and adorned himself with bangles and jhumkas. He studied, completed chores, and in the evenings, changed into casual clothes for outings. His hair grew smoother, shinier, and healthier than ever before. His mother saw the improvement and, after much thought, decided that he was ready for the next stage—a little upgrade that would prepare him for wearing sarees and exploring more complex hairstyles.

But that, Vinita decided, would be the story of the next chapter. For now, Vansh had learned discipline, care, and the rhythm of daily life, all while adjusting to a new way of dressing inside his home, and he had begun to take pride in the routine that made his long hair healthy and strong.

Part 2: Upgrade to Sarees

After five months of disciplined routine, Vansh’s hair had grown healthy, smooth, and shiny, free of the roughness and dandruff that had once plagued him. His mother, Vinita, watched him carefully one morning as he tied his ponytail, adjusted bangles, and draped his dupatta over his shoulders. “Vansh,” she said, a small smile on her lips, “you have done very well. You are ready for the next stage.”

Vansh looked at her curiously. “Next stage, Maa?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “For at least three days a week, you will wear sarees. Your hair will have new styles, and you will continue with the household chores. The kurti days remain for four days a week. We will rotate hairstyles so you can learn all the techniques: bun, braid, and puff with open hair.” Vansh swallowed nervously, imagining the heaviness of a saree, the pins, and the adjustments he would have to make. Still, he nodded. He had grown accustomed to following his mother’s instructions, and he trusted her judgment.

The first saree day arrived. Vinita selected a purple saree with a golden blouse. Vansh’s heart raced as he unfolded the saree. The fabric was heavy, shimmering, and unfamiliar. His mother guided him gently. “Vansh, stand straight. First, step into the petticoat, tie it firmly around your waist. Make sure it is secure; it will support the saree.”

He followed her instructions carefully, feeling the tightness around his waist. Next, she took the saree’s end and tucked it into the petticoat at the right side. She draped the pleats meticulously. Vansh tried to imitate her, but his hands faltered. “No, hold it tighter here,” she corrected. The pleats were secured with thirty pins, a heavy layer of metal pressing against the fabric and his waist. Vansh winced slightly at the weight, but he remained patient.

“Now the pallu,” Vinita said, draping it over his shoulder. Vansh felt the additional heaviness, the silky fabric brushing against his arm. “Hold it neatly, or it will fall,” she instructed. Vansh adjusted it carefully, feeling the new texture against his kurti-like blouse.

Hair styling followed. For the first saree day, Vinita chose a tight braid. She shampooed his hair the previous night, leaving it soft and shiny. Now, she combed it, carefully removing tangles. “Vansh, sit still. This braid must be tight; it will stay throughout the day.” Vansh obeyed silently, feeling the pull at his scalp as each section of hair was woven into a braid. The braid grew heavier with each lock added, a solid rope of hair that rested over his shoulder. Though it tugged at the scalp and caused a strange discomfort at the nape of his neck, Vansh remained still, knowing the importance of patience.

Once the braid was complete, Vinita replaced his male studs with jhumkas, adjusted bangles on each wrist, and carefully pinned the dupatta over his shoulder, securing it against the blouse. Vansh noticed the combined weight of the accessories, braid, and saree. He shifted slightly, feeling the pull at his waist and shoulders. “You will get used to it,” Vinita reassured him, “but you must learn to walk, sit, and move carefully.”

Vansh practiced walking around the living room. The pleats felt heavy, the pallu brushed against his arm, and the braid tugged at his scalp. “Straighten your back, Vansh. Imagine a line from your head to your heels,” Vinita instructed. Each step required mindfulness. Vansh stumbled slightly but corrected his posture, adjusting the pallu and pleats with careful hands. Walking, he realized, was unlike anything he had experienced in kurtis or leggings. Each movement needed awareness; the saree could slip, the pins could catch, and the braid tugged at his scalp if he moved too quickly.

Sitting was another challenge. “Keep the pleats neat and cross your legs carefully,” Vinita said. Vansh learned to fold his legs gently, letting the fabric drape naturally. The braid fell over his shoulder, the weight reminding him to sit upright. The bangles jingled lightly as he moved his hands, and the jhumkas swayed with every tilt of his head. Dupatta pins pressed slightly against his shoulder, but he tolerated it, focusing on maintaining balance.

Household chores now demanded even more coordination. Washing dishes required careful bending to prevent the pallu from slipping. Dusting shelves meant lifting arms slowly, aware of the bangles’ clinking and the braid’s weight. Folding laundry and peeling vegetables became exercises in patience, each movement deliberate to keep the saree in place and hair intact. Vansh found himself more conscious of posture, movements, and careful attention to accessories than ever before. His mother observed silently, only giving occasional instructions when necessary.

The next kurti day returned to the familiar routine: ponytail, leggings, and bangles. Vansh appreciated the relief of lighter clothing and easier movement. Yet, he noticed the contrast sharply: kurtis felt easier, breezier, and the hair tied in a ponytail was lighter on his neck. These small differences reinforced his understanding of the saree’s weight and the skill required to carry it gracefully.

Over the following week, Vansh rotated his saree days and hairstyles:

Day 1: Braid with purple saree and golden blouse.

Day 2 (kurti day): Loose ponytail, pink leggings, yellow kurti, bangles.

Day 3 (kurti day): Another ponytail with lavender kurti, leggings, bangles.

Day 4 (saree day): Hair in a puff and open hair, light blue saree, golden blouse. The puff added volume to the hair, slightly uncomfortable at the crown, but Vansh adapted.

Day 5 (kurti day): Tight ponytail, green kurti, leggings.

Day 6 (saree day): Hair tied in a bun, orange saree, red blouse. The bun at the back caused a strange weight on his head and minor tension on the scalp, but he endured.

Day 7 (kurti day): Loose braid, pink kurti, leggings, bangles.

Each rotation taught him new techniques: walking, sitting, bending, and moving with saree and accessories. Vinita supervised the first few days closely, showing him how to manage the pallu, adjust the braid or bun, and maintain posture. Vansh learned quickly, correcting mistakes, and by the end of two weeks, he could drape a saree and manage his hair without constant supervision.

Accessories became part of the routine. Bangles clinked softly, the jhumkas swayed with each step, and pins held the pallu firmly. Vansh added payals on saree days, their gentle tinkling joining the sound of bangles and jhumkas. Dupatta pins pressed slightly on his shoulder, and each hairstyle brought a different weight: braids were heavy but comfortable once adjusted, buns caused tension at the crown, and puffed open hair required careful balancing.

Vansh discovered that the saree, though heavy, allowed a certain elegance in movement. Each chore—dusting, folding laundry, washing dishes, peeling vegetables—required mindfulness. Every step had to consider the pleats, the pallu, the weight of hair, and accessories. Initially, it was uncomfortable; the braid tugged, pins pressed, bangles jingled, and the waistband of the petticoat pinched slightly. But gradually, Vansh learned to move smoothly, adjusting movements, balancing the weight, and coordinating arms, hands, and head.

At night, after changing into casual clothes, Vansh looked at his reflection. The purple, blue, and orange sarees were no longer intimidating. His hair, shiny and healthy, fell smoothly into braids, buns, or puffed styles. Bangles and jhumkas had become familiar, comfortable in their jingling rhythm. Dupatta pins, once a minor annoyance, now held the fabric elegantly. The weight of the saree and hairstyle, though noticeable, had become manageable.

Vinita observed him proudly. “Vansh,” she said one evening, “you have learned quickly. Sarees, hair, accessories… you manage them well. Your discipline and care show.” Vansh smiled, understanding that the discomfort he had felt at first had taught him patience, coordination, and pride. The transition from kurtis to sarees had been challenging, yet the routine had transformed him into someone capable of grace, poise, and confidence, even in unfamiliar attire.

Over the following weeks, Vansh continued the rotation. Each saree day added mastery: he could drape pleats without assistance, style his hair into braids, buns, or puffed open hair, and maintain balance and elegance while performing chores. Kurti days provided relief, a chance to rest from the weight, and reinforced the difference between light and heavy attire. Hair care remained meticulous: oiling, shampooing, conditioning, and careful combing ensured that each hairstyle stayed smooth, shiny, and healthy.

Household chores remained an essential part of the routine, not diminished by the sarees. Washing dishes, dusting, folding laundry, and peeling vegetables required awareness of clothing and hair. Vansh moved carefully, balancing elegance with efficiency, until each action became second nature.

By the end of the first month of saree days, Vansh had gained confidence. The initial discomfort—tight pleats, heavy braid, tense bun, pin pressure—had diminished. Walking, sitting, and moving in sarees became natural. Hair was shiny, healthy, and long, now reaching mid-back. Bangles jingled harmoniously, jhumkas swayed lightly, payals added gentle rhythm, and dupatta pins held firmly. Vansh had embraced the routine fully, mastering the balance between clothing, hairstyle, and daily life, ready for the next stage of continued practice and long-term adaptation.

Part 3: Daily Life After Years

Years had passed since Vansh first agreed to his mother’s rules. His hair had grown long, soft, and shiny, reaching his buttocks. He never cut it but took care of it every day. His routine at home was simple but full. He had learned to manage everything himself.

Vansh woke up at seven every morning. First, he washed his face and bathed. Then he brushed his long hair carefully. On some days he applied a little oil, massaging it from roots to ends. Then he shampooed and conditioned it. After that, he combed it slowly and tied it into a neat braid that reached his lower back. Sometimes, when he wanted, he made a bun or puff, but most days it was a braid.

After his hair, he dressed himself. It was always a saree now. He chose the saree for the day, folded the pleats, tucked them neatly, draped the pallu over his shoulder, and fixed thirty or more pins to keep it in place. He put on six bangles on each hand, selected jhumkas, wore payals on his feet, and finally placed a small bindi in the center of his forehead. Everything was arranged perfectly, and he had learned to do it quickly.

After dressing, he started his chores. First, he washed the dishes, careful not to wet his braid or saree. Then he dusted the furniture, shelves, and windowsills. After that, he folded the laundry, arranging kurtis, leggings, sarees, and blouses neatly. He peeled vegetables for the day, swept and mopped the floors, and organized utensils in the kitchen. Sometimes he helped Alka Bai cook simple dishes. Every movement was careful and smooth so his saree and braid did not get in the way.

After the chores, Vansh studied for a few hours. His dummy college books were open on the table, and he focused quietly. Later in the evening, he sometimes went out in simple clothes, then returned home to change again into a saree. By night, his braid was neat, saree tidy, bangles jingling, jhumkas swaying, payals tinkling, and bindi in place.

His weekly routine was simple. He wore sarees every day now. His braid reached his buttocks, heavy but comfortable. On some days, he made a bun or puffed style. He had learned to walk, sit, and bend without disturbing the pleats, braid, or accessories. Chores, hair care, and dressing were all natural parts of his day.

Vansh no longer felt awkward or uncomfortable. Sarees, kurtis, long hair, bangles, jhumkas, payals, and bindi were now normal for him. Every chore, every braid, every pleat, every piece of jewelry reflected years of practice. He had become graceful and disciplined.

He looked at himself in the mirror sometimes. His hair was long, shiny, and smooth. His saree was neat, bangles jingling, jhumkas moving, payals ringing. The bindi was small and perfect. Vansh felt calm and satisfied. He had learned patience, care, and discipline. He moved through the house with confidence, doing all his work, managing his hair and clothes, and living his life the way his mother had taught him.

This was Vansh’s life now. He followed the rules, dressed in sarees every day, took care of his long hair, did all household chores, and studied. It was simple, quiet, and steady. Years of routine had made it easy. He had become graceful and strong. Vansh was proud of the life he had built for himself.

And so, he lived like this—long hair tied in braid, saree neat, bangles, jhumkas, payals, and bindi in place, doing his chores with care, studying, and moving quietly around the house. He had grown into a calm, disciplined, and confident young man. The routine was now part of him, and he felt complete and satisfied with his life.