Girlfriends forever take mighty big pride in getting their lover-boys to do their bidding. It is almost ritual, this ‘if you really love me you’d do it for me’ mantra. The hapless boy, desperate to please and hang on, invariably obliges.

Gosh! That mush of yours looks like a toothbrush…it is absolutely horrid, she exclaims, suddenly discovering the fellow she was going out with for months actually had that moustache all along. Yet, this is ‘litmus test’ time – sooner or later, one half of a romantic pair (you now which half) has to go through this agnipariksha to prove his bonafide.

The guy scratches his head. He is rather fond of his hirsute facial possession. Its been his, like a brand identity and trademark with him ever since he was eighteen…yet, now, this new comment (or commandment) had him edgy.

Really? My pals tell me it makes me look like Omar Shariff

Omar Sharrif? God, your friends are daft or what? It looks a cross between a caterpillar and a watchstrap velcro…Now Sunny, don’t get me wrong, ‘if you really love me you’d do it for me’ she whispers huskily into his ear.

Do what doll?
Shave that fungus off

Shave my mush off? Now you are daft or something. How can ….

She didn’t care: she turns her face away and stares into cosmos. A   pout is forming rapidly on her pretty face.

Okay, honey…tomorrow, says the desperate knight

Oh Sunny, I knew you’d do it for me

Sugar, can I ask you to do something for me?

Sure my Sunny boy, anything.

He mind races – seize the chance. She’s all cooi-cooey now and vulnerable.

Smitha, you know how that long hair of yours get into my face when we go biking, you know it covers half your pretty face, you know how its splits ends…and you know how I dote the Mia Farrow look….page-boy cut with bangs on your pretty forehead. Now, if you really loved me… could you lop off that black cataract of yours…that is if you really loved me?!

She spins around to face him.

Sunny my man, I would even shave it all off if you want me to darling.

Gosh, that was unexpected. A lateral kick. She loved her long tresses, like a Kalinga naag it tumbled down sinuously in a braid, or like a cloud of monsoon it billowed seductively about her shoulders. She was ready to forego that? For him? He really loved that halo like comet-tail down her back like a torrent.

He had thrown the gauntlet, and he had lost. Now his mush had to go.

That night, he closed his eyes as he ran the razor across his upper lip. In two smooth swishes it was gone. He hated his new naked look. He even saw a small glint, a tear. He felt his face. God, it felt eerie and alien.

A he lay on his bed, he heard the mobile tinkle.

Hi, its me!

It was Chummy, Smit’s younger sister.

Hey, know what Sunny, Smit’s has got her hair chopped off….she looks so different. She’s been wanting to lop it off since the last six months, but mum said an emphatic no. She even locked herself in her room last week, crying to be permitted to cut it off…today she told mum, since you had wanted it out, so she had to do it, she had no choice.…how could you Sunny? Did you really tell her that? Tell he to cut her hair off…I hate you…

Sunny’s head reeled. He had lost the battle and the war. He’d had lost what he wanted, and she had got what she wanted.

Bah!!! I hate girls, Sunny screamed out loud as he buried his baby-smooth face into is pillow and sobbed.