One summer afternoon my mother had gone to buy some groceries and my sister was taking a nap. My grandmother was in the other room knitting a pair of socks for my cousin.

I started to feel really bored. I felt lonely and wished somebody was there to play with me. My mother had warned me not to touch anything like scissors, knives or her makeup. So I thought of ways to kill my boredom, but nothing came in my mind for a quite a long time. Then suddenly an adventurous idea stuck my mind.

Let me first tell you that I had a head full of thick and long hair. They are frizzy and I always find it hard to manage, and tying them was another tough business for me. My mother always made a clean bun or a long tight braid, but today, she was in a hurry so she asked my sister to tie my hair properly, which she forgot.

Coming back to my adventurous idea, it was to make my hair short and surprise my mum by neatly combing them. So I tiptoed into the kitchen and opened the drawer. I grabbed a pair of sharp, ruby-red scissors. They were old, but could cut properly. I slowly went to the bathroom and cut chunks of my hair and threw them in the dustbin. When I was finished, I went to the mirror and saw my hair. It was a disaster.

What will I tell mum when she comes home? Oh no! Monday was school and today was Saturday. I realised my mistake and thought of amending it, but how? There was no way my hair would regrow by then. What was I going to do?

I prayed to Allah to help me. I knew I was in a deep trouble created by myself. Everyone would laugh at me, I thought. I quickly went and wore a clown’s wig which I had bought last year. And then I heard a knock on the door.

My heart pounded and I feared how I would face things. There was another knock, this time a bit loud and hard. I had to open the door, there was no way to avoid it. I reminded myself that what I had done was wrong so I have to face the music.

I opened the door, it was mum standing there. She was taken aback and asked why I was wearing the clown’s wig. I couldn’t think of anything else and I said it was because I wanted to dress up like one. Sweat dripped down my forehead and landed on my cheeks.

She said, “Don’t wear it, it’s already hot today,” and took my wig off, she paused for a second as she stared at my hair — as if we both were frozen in time. Fast forward — she scolded me, quite aggressively — and then started laughing.

“It serves you right, dear,” she said.

But as she is a mother she also had to clean the mess that we kids make in our life. The next day, she took me to the salon. The hairdressers also laughed at me first but then they cut my hair properly. Now my hair was so short that I looked like a military boy with almost shaven head.

On Monday, I went to school wearing a cap but when I entered in my class my teacher asked to take it off. So I had to, and then … yes, you guessed it right, everyone laughed! I had to bear six hours of laughter. Unfortunately, it was a similar scene for the next three months or so until my hair was in a better shape.

But yes, it has taught me a very big lesson. After that day, my grandmother and sister always babysit me and did not let me touch the scissors ever again.

Published in Dawn, Young World, November 7th, 2020