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Last Thursday I was at the record store browsing for anything that caught my eye, and something sure did. It wasn’t what I expected to find but was I ever glad that I did. Without really paying much attention, I saw something out of the corner of my eye that made me double take a second look. It was a gorgeous raven black braid, as thick as my wrist hanging down to a girl’s knees. I quickly put whatever was in my hands back wherever it would fit and started moving towards her.

She turned slightly, and I could see that she was very attractive and appeared to probably be of Indian decent. I walked up beside her casually and started looking at the selection in front of us. We caught each other glancing out of the corner of our eyes, and both smiled. With that I turned to her and asked her if the album she was holding was any good. She replied in good but accented English that she had never heard them before. I acted surprised and commented that she didn’t sound like she was from around here. This made her look embarrassed and I kind of felt like I screwed up. She apologized, but I apologized for the misunderstanding and told her that her English is very good, and I love her accent. This seemed to smooth things over. I introduced myself and she told me her name was Esha. Before long she also volunteered that she was from India and had only moved to the area recently. I offered to be her personal guide to the city and she thankfully accepted. We exchanged phone numbers and went in our separate ways with the understanding that she would call me that later day and we would do something.

Sitting at home I could barely sit down I was so excited. I didn’t know what we were going to do that night, but I sure knew what I wanted to do. All I could think about was getting my hands on that hair. I had never had such a pleasure as that would hopefully be. Eventually I couldn’t take it anymore and I went to the bathroom and pulled my scissors out of the drawer and began to fantasize about what it would be like. Ironically this was when the phone rang. I quickly ran over and picked it up. She sounded as excited as I did but I don’t see how that could be. She explained to me that she wanted to learn more about our culture here, and she wanted me to help her fit into it. I was definitely up to this task.

Later that night I went over to her apartment to meet her. It was easier than trying to give her directions to my place we both agreed. When I got there I felt like I was in a different country. I guess I felt like I was in India. She noticed me looking around in astonishment and asked if all of it was too much. I assured her that it was great and it probably helps her feel at home. She agreed that it did and was relieved that I didn’t think it was ridiculous.

First she showed me different things from her culture which were very interesting. Then I asked her what she wanted to learn about our culture. She told me she was very interested in our fashion and lifestyle, and when she went home to India after a year that she wanted to be mistaken for a tourist. This was exotic music to my ears. And the best part was that she was so passionate about it that it really made me think that this was actually going to happen.

As the night went on I started to flirt with her more and more, and she responded well to it. It made me laugh when she asked me “Is it common in your culture to be so front with people you meet on the first day?” But her tone made it clear that she was not offended so I took it as an opportunity to go one step further. I pounced across the couch at her, wrapping my arms around her. She let out a scared yelp followed by laughter and I snuck my hand around and grabbed a hold of the magnificent braid she was leaning on. It felt like a big knot of silk in my hand and I didn’t want to let go.

Fortunately I didn’t have to because we got quite comfortable in the position we were in. I was quite content and could stay there all night, but sadly after a few minutes she told me she needed to step out for a minute. I sat up but didn’t let go of her hair. As she got up and took a step it pulled tight and she was surprised when she was jerked back. She turned around with a mischievous smile and followed it back to my hand. One finger at a time she undid my grip on her until she was free, then remarked “The length of my hair is quite exotic to you no?” And I replied honestly “Yes it is. That is not customary of women here.” Smiling softly she said “It is very common in my country. I can’t imagine not having my long hair. OK, I will be right back.” When she went in the next room I nearly exploded with excitement from what had just happened.

While she was gone I tried to mellow myself out but it was hard with the thoughts flying through my mind at one hundred miles an hour. When she came back in the room she was wearing a different change of clothes. What she had on now was typical of a young woman you would see around here rather than her more traditional look. It looked really good on her and I told her that. She asked me if she would blend into a crowd now and I said there was one thing that was still off. I told her to stay there and she gave me a curious look as I went into the kitchen. I looked around very excitedly and found a pair of scissors. I almost couldn’t go back in there but I made myself do it. As I walked back in she had her back to me so I made my move.

Quickly I came up behind her and took her knee length braid in my free hand and placed the open scissors just below the base of it. When she felt and heard this she whipped around quickly in terror. Taking a couple steps back she yelled “What are you doing!?” I was trying to contain myself but I answered “The only thing that makes you stand out is your hair. After I chop it off you will look like a tourist for sure when you go home.” She still looked shocked and said “I told you I do not want my hair to be cut!” She was now starting to cry. “Come on it will only take a few seconds and it will be finished.” I said. Wiping the tears off of her faced she said to me “I saw a girl yesterday with long hair to her bum. Having long hair does not make me a tourist.” I started to slowly step towards her and try to calm her down. I joked with her to lighten the mood “Maybe she was from India too.” She didn’t find it funny and replied “Her hair was blonde. She was from here.” Now it was becoming obvious that she was really very upset.

An idea came to me and I asked “Well let me just cut some off then. Some girls here do have long hair but not THAT long.” She didn’t say anything at first so I hoped she was considering it. Finally she spoke, “Please understand that I really do not want any of my hair to be cut. But it seems very important to fitting in here so I will allow you to cut it off to my bum. But only if it is absolutely necessary.” As she finished the sentence she broke out in tears again. And with that I walked up and hugged her to try to calm her down. Still with the scissors in hand I guided her over to a stool that was sitting aside and sat her down. She kept crying and I felt bad about what I was doing but yet I was still doing it.

My other problem was that my mind was in a war with my conscience about what I should do from here. She told me I could chop it off at her butt but I really wanted to cut more off than that. Having beautiful thick black hair this long in front of you with the chance to cut it almost never comes along and I had to decide if I was going to go all out or not. I picked up the braid with my free hand again and weighed it in my thoughts. First I opened the scissors and placed them around her butt. Then I slowly raised them, dragging the blades along the hair as I slowly went up. Finally I stopped myself when they were resting at about her shoulder blades. For a few seconds I was in my own world and I couldn’t hear anything but my own excitement.

Finally I made my decision, and at her shoulder blades I started shearing through the magnificent braid. The sound was amazing and seem
ed like it went on forever. Esha however did not think it was so great as she wept. With a few final strokes of the blades I severed the thick braid and felt its weight in my hands. When the snipping stopped she covered her face with her hands. I was completely in awe of the sheared mane. But now I looked at the remaining hair hanging around her shoulder blades and knew that the worst had not yet come. I undid what was left of the braid and spread it all out. As I picked it up and dropped it I could see her shiver. She took her hands off her face and reached around and grabbed her hair, pulling it over her shoulder in absolute horror. When she saw how short it was she looked like she had seen a ghost. Then she turned around and saw me holding the lengthy braid in my hands and she lost what emotional control she had.

First she started yelling in words that I couldn’t understand and then she started swearing at me in English. She grabbed the scissors out of my hands and threw them on the ground. I held out her chopped off hair for her to take and she just screamed at me to get out. My extremely encouraged exit was so hurried that I ended up never letting go of the braid, and it wasn’t until I was walking quickly down the hallway that I realized I still had it. Still shocked, I carefully put it in my jacket and left the building. I went home and couldn’t put the hair down for hours.

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