Arjun had always been proud of his hair. It was thick, dark, and fell in smooth waves well below his back—far longer than most other boys in college. He often left it open, allowing it to flow behind him when he walked. Whenever anyone commented, he would dismiss them with a smirk and continue on his way. He believed that nobody should dictate how he looked.

However, the students at National Institute of Arts and Science viewed things differently. The college had a rule—any student with long hair was supposed to keep it neatly tied. It was meant for everyone, girls and boys alike. But Arjun refused to follow this. He thought the rule was silly. The fact that many of the girls, like Anika, Sanya, Meera, Nisha, and Tara, had long hair didn’t bother him until they started complaining that they had to tie their hair while he freely roamed around with his hair open and unkempt.

That morning, he strolled into his classroom a few minutes late, as usual, with his hair draped over his shoulders. He saw the usual scowls directed at him by the female students, who had their hair tied in various styles—high ponytails, simple buns, braided plaits. In the front of the class sat Professor Lakshmi, known for her strict nature when it came to discipline. She looked up from her attendance sheet, gave Arjun one icy glare, and spoke sharply.

“Arjun,” she said, crossing her arms over her beige cotton sari, “how many times do I have to tell you to tie your hair if you insist on keeping it so long?”

Arjun shrugged. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing a few stray strands out of his face. “Why don’t you ask the girls to cut their hair?” he retorted, voice dripping with arrogance. “You’re always after me for some reason.”

In response, the girls in the class—Anika, Sanya, Meera, Nisha, and Tara—glanced back with smirks of their own. Anika whispered loudly enough for all to hear, “He thinks he’s special. If we have to tie our hair, then so should he. He wants to pretend he’s above the rules.”

Professor Lakshmi’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you argue with me, Arjun,” she warned. She tapped the desk with a wooden ruler. “The college rule states: ‘If your hair extends below shoulder length, you must keep it neatly tied.’ That applies to all students. You have refused to obey this rule multiple times.”

Some of the girls tittered and began exchanging looks. Sanya muttered, “He wants to keep his hair open like us. Maybe we should treat him just like one of us, then.”

Arjun stared at them fiercely. “I’m not cutting my hair,” he snapped. “And I’m not tying it either.”

Professor Lakshmi’s face hardened. She pointed at the empty chair near her desk. “Come here, sissy. Sit down in front of the class. If you insist on having hair like a girl, I’ll make sure you get styled just like a girl.”

A wave of laughter rippled through the classroom. Arjun felt a sudden jolt of anger and embarrassment. He refused to move at first, but the professor’s unflinching stare made it clear she wasn’t joking. Reluctantly, he slouched over to the chair.

The moment he settled down, the girls edged forward in their seats with excitement. Meera whispered, “He’s going to look so cute! Let’s see how girly he can get.” Nisha’s eyes gleamed with mischief. Tara was already snickering under her breath, anticipating the show.

Professor Lakshmi reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a simple black comb, a hair band, a claw clip, and a few other basic hair accessories. She stood behind Arjun, who sat there stiffly, staring straight ahead at the blackboard. His heart thumped in his chest, and he could smell the faint scent of coconut oil wafting from his own hair as the professor ran her fingers through it. He noticed how quiet the class had become—so quiet he could hear the soft rasp of the comb’s teeth slicing through his tangled locks.

He winced slightly. His scalp tingled under the tension of the comb. Usually, he just let his hair hang loose without giving it much care besides a quick shampoo. Now, every knot and tangle was being teased apart, and he felt the professor’s strong grip. She parted his hair down the middle with deliberate precision, making sure each side fell in symmetrical sheets over his shoulders.

She said, “You want to behave like a girl with your hair, I’ll make sure you experience exactly how they maintain it.” Her tone was stern. “Girls, come closer and watch. I want you to see how we handle messy, long hair.”

Anika, Sanya, Meera, Nisha, and Tara abandoned their seats and encircled him, smiling in anticipation. Tara let out a small snort of amusement, “He looks so funny. Look how girly he is with that neat parting.”

“Hey,” Anika taunted, leaning over to look at him in the face, “I think we should call you Arjuni now, hmm?” Giggles erupted from all the girls, and Arjun felt his cheeks burn with humiliation.

Professor Lakshmi continued: “Now, first we’ll try a simple high ponytail. Hold still, Arjun.”

He felt her fingers gather his hair at the top of his head, pulling it tight. The tug against his scalp was sharper than he expected. He could smell the faint, clean fragrance of shampoo that lingered in his own hair, and now everyone could see exactly how long and thick it was. The girls made sure to keep up their snide remarks.

Nisha smirked and said, “Aww, your hair is so lovely, Arjun. I’m almost jealous! You could totally pass for one of us from the back.”

He heard the rustle of the hair band as it was pulled around his gathered strands. Suddenly, the teacher let the ponytail bounce. It was a high, tight ponytail perched on the top of his head, swishing slightly when he moved. The girls burst into a fresh round of laughter.

Arjun clenched his fists in his lap, fighting the urge to stand up and storm off. But he felt pinned by the teacher’s authority and the mocking eyes of his classmates. He tried to focus on the sounds around him—low giggles, scornful whispers, and the rasp of the teacher’s comb whenever she adjusted the style. The tension in the air was tangible. He could feel the heat rising in his face. Every breath he took felt labored, but that didn’t stop the teacher from moving on to the next style.

“All right,” Professor Lakshmi said brusquely, “now let’s show him what a woman’s bun feels like.”

She loosened the ponytail, letting his hair spill back down. Arjun saw a few stray hairs float past his eyes; they tickled his cheeks. He noticed how much heavier it felt when not secured, a sensation he usually enjoyed—only now, he was painfully aware that everyone was watching. The teacher gathered the hair at the back of his head, twisting it round and round. He could hear the soft scratching of her fingernails against his scalp. It made him shiver involuntarily.

He swallowed hard, tasting the dryness in his throat as she wound his hair into a tight bun. Her voice was stern. “This is how a disciplined girl in our college might wear her hair. Let’s make it neat.” She pinned the bun in place with a few bobby pins and a hair stick. Then she snapped open a simple black claw clip, sliding it around any loose sections. Each click felt like another blow to his pride.

Sanya spoke up, “Wow, Arjun, or should I say Arjuni? You look so ladylike with that bun.”

Meera added, “Definitely a sissy look. Are you enjoying this, Arjun? Don’t lie; we can see that blush.”

Arjun bit his lip, completely mortified. He could hear his heart thumping in his ears, could feel sweat starting to gather near his hairline. Meanwhile, Professor Lakshmi stepped around to examine her handiwork. The bun sat high at the back of his head, tidy and unmistakably feminine.

“Not bad,” she commented. “Girls, what do you think?”

“Lovely!” Tara teased in a sing-song voice. “He’ll blend right in with us in the ladies’ bathroom.”

Another wave of laughter spread through the small group. Arjun heard the sounds echo off the classroom’s plain walls, making him feel smaller and more helpless. He stared at the floor, noticing the faint scuff marks on the old, mosaic-tiled surface, anything to avoid meeting their eyes.

Professor Lakshmi wasn’t done yet. She untied the bun, letting his hair unravel in gentle waves. She then meticulously separated the strands into two sections for pigtails, securing each side with a rubber band. Arjun couldn’t help but notice how odd and airy his neck felt with his hair divided into two chunky sections. He felt a cool breeze against his nape. Each movement of his head made the pigtails sway, brushing against his back like two curious creatures.

“Yes, that’s more like it,” Meera giggled, stepping closer to get a good look. She gave one of the pigtails a small tug, making Arjun flinch. “Super cute.”

Feeling cornered, Arjun swallowed hard, his throat tight. He could practically taste the tension in the air. The smell of cheap perfume wafted around—some of the girls wore jasmine-scented sprays, and it mixed with the coconut oil from his hair, forming a strange, dizzying aroma. All the while, Professor Lakshmi continued to lecture him on proper grooming. “See how time-consuming this is, Arjun? We girls do it every day. If you want hair like this, you must learn to maintain it.”

He didn’t reply; he just sat there, face burning. Part of him wanted to snap back, but the weight of everyone’s eyes held him in place. He could feel them examining him from head to toe, relishing his humiliation. Several girls pulled out their phones, discreetly snapping photos or videos. He couldn’t help but notice the small shutter sounds and giggles.

“All right, ladies,” Professor Lakshmi announced, “we’ve shown him a few styles—a high ponytail, a bun, pigtails. Let’s let him see how it feels to do a simple side-part with a claw clip, just for variety.”

She parted his hair to the side this time, smoothing it down with the comb. The soft teeth of the comb glided across his scalp, making him wince slightly from the tender spots that had been pulled on repeatedly. The teacher then gathered one side, twisted it gently, and slid the claw clip on, creating a neat, girlish half-up style.

Standing behind him, Anika said, “That’s how I do my hair when I’m in a hurry. Now you can do it too, Arjun—or should I say Arjuni?” She emphasized the suffix just to stoke the teasing further.

Arjun tried to ignore her. He kept his eyes fixed on the chalkboard in front. The neat, white lines of last period’s notes blurred in his vision. He was far too conscious of the swirl of scents—his own sweat, the girls’ perfumes, the coconut oil in his hair, and the faint rubbery smell from the hair accessories. The overhead fan hummed gently, stirring the air around the classroom, but it offered no real comfort. Every moment felt endless.

Finally, the teacher stopped, letting out a breath. She placed the comb on her desk and stared down at him. “Now, Arjun, do you understand why you should follow the rules? This is part of the discipline here. If you insist on having long hair, you will keep it tied, neat, and presentable at all times. Otherwise, we’ll repeat this…performance every single day.”

A hush fell over the group. The girls waited, smirking, ready to hear his response. Arjun mustered all his courage, but he realized he had no more scathing replies to give. His scalp was sore from all the styling. His pride was in tatters.

He finally mumbled, “Yes, ma’am…”

Sanya clapped mockingly. “Aww, that’s so sweet of you to admit. Now you look just like us, Arjun—well, maybe not exactly, but close enough.”

Anika giggled. “I think I’ll lend him one of my cute hair scrunchies tomorrow. Don’t you think that’ll suit him, girls?”

“Oh, definitely,” Meera laughed. “He should keep wearing pigtails. So adorable, na?”

They all burst into raucous laughter once again. Arjun felt his stomach twist into knots. He glanced around to see if anyone would take pity on him, but not a single friendly face emerged. The entire class seemed to relish his humiliation.

Professor Lakshmi, satisfied with her lesson, told him, “Now go back to your seat. And let this be a warning. If I ever see you again with your hair flowing all over the place, we’ll have a nice little hairstyling session in front of everyone. Understand?”

Arjun stood up slowly, blinking to clear the moisture in his eyes. He nodded. His hair was still pinned partially up with a claw clip, the rest cascading around his shoulders. He could see a few strands sticking out, but he didn’t dare fix it. His whole body buzzed with a mixture of shame and uneasy acceptance.

As he made his way back to his bench, the girls parted, letting him pass through their little circle. He felt each of their scrutinizing stares. He heard every giggle and whisper. It felt like a gauntlet of ridicule. Finally, he slumped down into his seat and tried to breathe normally, ignoring the pounding in his chest.

Anika tossed him a final comment: “Hey, Arjun, or should I say ‘her highness’? Don’t forget—tomorrow, we want to see you with your hair neatly tied. If not, we’ll be happy to treat you to another makeover.” The threat was sweet and malicious all at once.

For the rest of the class, Arjun sat there with his newly styled hair, cheeks burning, as everyone else settled into the lesson. He tried to focus on the lecture, but all he could feel was the strange pull of the clip in his hair, all he could smell was the lingering coconut oil and the faint perfume around him. He was aware of every movement, every stolen glance from the girls behind him, every hushed snicker.

In that moment, he realized that he might have to swallow his pride or face these daily humiliations again and again. Part of him still roiled with anger, but another part felt strangely disarmed, wondering if maybe he should just tie his hair from now on—anything to avoid a scene like this. Yet as he touched the twisted portion of hair pinned on the side of his head, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of resentment. Was it really his fault that he loved his hair long?

But there, amid the faint whir of the overhead fan and the soft murmur of lectures, Arjun had no escape. He could only sit in silence, the teacher’s parting words ringing in his ears: “If you want to keep it like a girl, be prepared for the consequences…”

And all the while, the girls—Anika, Sanya, Meera, Nisha, and Tara—grinned behind him, fully intending to hold him to that warning.

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End of Story