The next morning, Rohan stood in front of the mirror with a sigh. His braid still smelled like jasmine from the day before. The oil hadn’t washed out completely — the scent lingered like a taunt.
“Maa?” he called nervously.
She entered with a steel thali in hand. On it: oil bottle, comb, safety pins, bangles, bindi packet, and a folded blue cotton saree.
“Sit,” she ordered.
“Maa, please…”
“SIT, Rohini.”
He sat on the floor. She poured jasmine oil into her palm again and massaged it into his scalp.
"You’ll have such thick hair after a month," she smiled.
He winced.
She combed it thoroughly, tugging hard at knots. Then came the braiding — slow, methodical, tight.
Every time she pulled a section and wrapped it, he felt the weight increase. With each completed day, the braid seemed longer... heavier. The oil gave it a sleek sheen that made it look elegant — and terribly feminine.
Saree of the Day: Blue Cotton with Silver Border
“Raise your arms,” she said, slipping a blouse over him.
It was snug.
She wrapped the petticoat and tucked the pleats with a practiced hand.
The saree felt heavier than yesterday's. Or maybe he was just more aware of it now. The long pleats restricted his legs. The pallu tugged at his shoulder. The bangles clinked when he moved.
"Maa, can I wear pants at least? Please?”
“You want to keep your long hair?” she asked.
“…yes.”
“Then saree. Or scissors. Pick.”
He stayed silent.
Chores Begin
From 7 a.m. to 12 p.m., Rohini had to sweep the entire house, mop, dust, and arrange utensils. His bangles constantly clinked. His braid swung with every step. His saree pleats fluttered as he bent over.
Worse — the pallu would often fall, and his mother would shout:
“Rohini! Fix your pallu! Ladkiyan aise nahi chalte!”
He quickly pinned it back in shame.
Day 3: A Visitor Comes
Rohan was wearing a yellow floral saree that morning, with green bangles and his longest braid yet. His mother had applied extra kajal and made him wear a tiny nose ring clip.
He was sweeping when the doorbell rang.
“Maa, please don’t open it—!”
Too late.
It was their neighbor, Mrs. Sharma.
“Oh! Who’s this lovely girl?” she smiled.
His mother grinned. “Yeh meri beti Rohini hai.”
“Beta, namaste!”
He froze. “…Na-namaste, aunty.”
As she left, he collapsed on the sofa.
“Maa, this is torture!”
“Then get a haircut.”
“…No.”
“Good. Now go wash the bathroom.”
Day 4–7: Routine Tightens
Every day began with jasmine oil. The braid got tighter. The pleats neater. His hands started moving naturally while draping. He had stopped needing help.
His new routine:
6:00 a.m.: Wake, bathe, oil hair
6:30 a.m.: Self-braid while maa supervised
7:00 a.m.: Saree of the day — rotate colors
7:30 a.m.: Makeup, jewelry, bindi
8:00–12:00: Household chores
12:30: Lunch
2:00–5:00: Iron clothes, polish silverware, learn stitching
Evening: Sit quietly with hands in lap — “No phones, beti. Girls learn silence.”
He was learning to live as Rohini, not Rohan.
Day 8: Emotional Breakdown
Wearing a deep green silk saree, hair freshly oiled and plaited, Rohan sat on the verandah sobbing.
His mother approached. “Why are you crying, beta?”
“I… I feel like I’m losing who I was.”
She sat beside him and wiped his kajal-stained tears.
“Sometimes, life gives us new roles. Maybe this is yours.”
“I didn’t choose this!”
“Neither did I choose to not have a daughter,” she whispered.
Day 9: Internal Conflict
Now he braided his hair alone.
He no longer complained when applying bindi. He adjusted his pallu automatically. His steps became graceful out of habit. And even though he hated himself for it — he had started checking his pleats in the mirror.
Rohan, somewhere inside, was fading. Rohini was taking his place.
Day 10: The Last Day... or So He Thought
That morning he wore a red saree with golden zari, jasmine oil soaking into his scalp, braid swinging with weight. His mother smiled proudly.
“You’re almost there, Rohini.”
He asked timidly, “So… I can cut my hair tomorrow?”
Her expression changed.
“No, beta. That was before. Now you’re doing well. You’ll continue.”
“What? But you said—”
“I changed my mind.”
“No, Maa! You promised! I only did all this because it was just for 10 days!”
She raised her voice. “You got used to this! You walk like a girl, sit like a girl. You are a girl now.”
“I’m NOT! I want to be ME again!”
The Belt Scene: The Final Argument
“Maa, give me my pants. I’m done with this!”
“No.”
“I swear, I’ll cut my braid off myself—!”
She stormed into the room and came out with the black leather belt.
“I told you... once you begin, there’s no turning back.”
“NO! THIS IS WRONG!”
She slapped the belt across his arm. CRACK!
“Aaah!” he screamed.
“You disobeyed.”
Another hit.
“This is for shouting at your mother.”
CRACK!
“I let you live in comfort. You want to challenge me?”
Tears rolled down his cheeks. His braid hit his back as he crouched.
“Tomorrow, you’ll wear sindoor too.”
Discussion (4)
Please continue this story
Nice buildup .... Waiting for next parts
I must thank Meghana dixit didi for building this platform for us. I visit to this site every single day to read beautiful stories. This has become my routine for couple of months.
Awesome story Viana. People get excited when they read content related to braid. Looking forward for next part.