Chapter 4 — The Principal's Order
The following morning, Hemanth was summoned to the principal's office.
He walked down the corridor slowly, rehearsing explanations in his mind. He had not missed classes or broken any academic rules. Yet the notice about his hair had followed him everywhere.
The principal sat behind a large wooden desk, a file open before her.
“Hemanth, several staff members have reported that you are refusing to follow the grooming policy.”
“Madam, I understand the rule,” he replied. “But I don't want to cut my hair.”
The principal regarded him sternly.
“This is an educational institution. Students must follow its regulations.”
Hemanth tried to explain that he kept his hair clean and neat. He offered to tie it back or maintain it carefully, but the principal remained unmoved.
She instructed him to sit while she demonstrated how she expected his hair to be kept. Taking a comb, she began separating the long strands and braiding them firmly.
Hemanth sat motionless, his hands clasped together. He felt humiliated by the situation and struggled to hold back his tears.
“Please, madam,” he said quietly. “I can take care of my hair myself.”
The principal continued speaking about discipline and appearances.
Hemanth heard the words, but his thoughts had turned inward. He wondered why an adult responsible for guiding students could not understand how frightening it felt to have a personal choice taken away.
When she finally dismissed him, he left the office with his hair tightly braided.
A few students in the corridor noticed and whispered to one another. Hemanth kept walking, refusing to look at them.
In the washroom, he carefully loosened the braid and combed his hair back into place. He stared at himself for a long time.
He felt angry, but beneath the anger was sadness.
He wanted to respect his teachers. He wanted to belong at college. Yet he also wanted to make decisions about his own appearance without being treated as a problem.
That evening, Swetha listened as he described what had happened.
“You shouldn't have to feel frightened just to talk about your hair,” she said.
Hemanth looked down.
“What if things get worse?”
Swetha could not promise that they would not. Instead, she promised to support him in finding a safe way to address the situation.
For the first time, Hemanth considered documenting what was happening and seeking help from someone who would take his concerns seriously.
He was still afraid, but he was beginning to realize that silence was not his only option.
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