The sun had already risen, but silence still lingered in the alley. It was Monday — the day when most shops in the city stayed half-shut. In a forgotten corner of Ganesh Nagar, behind the half-lowered shutter of an old barbershop, a faint light flickered. The shop owner — the barber — was busy cleaning when a sudden voice broke the quiet:
“Babu, I need a shave. It’s urgent.”
Startled, the barber looked up. A stranger stood at the entrance — medium height, long hair, an overgrown beard, and notably, no glasses.
“The shop’s closed today, brother. It’s Monday,” the barber replied, his tone slightly firm.
But the stranger quickly pulled out a note from his pocket.
“I’ll pay double. Just give me a quick shave. I have to leave immediately.”
The glint of money pushed away the weight of routine. After a moment of thought, the barber relented.
“Alright, come in… but it’ll cost two hundred.”
Clue One: The Radio Whispers
The shave had just begun when a faint voice emerged from an old radio resting in the shop’s corner. A story was playing — but it abruptly paused for breaking news:
“Special bulletin… Vikram Sahu, a dangerous murderer, escaped from jail this morning. Beard, long hair, approximately 5 foot 8, poor eyesight… still at large.”
The stranger briefly glanced at the barber. The barber’s fingers trembled slightly. Both, internally, were shaken.
The seed of suspicion had just been planted.
Repeated Announcements, Sharpened Doubts
The story resumed. But minutes later, the announcement came again:
“Vikram Sahu remains on the loose… police say he may be hiding in the city…”
The barber’s eyes were now fixed on the customer’s face.
Long hair? Beard? Slight haze in the eyes? Could this really be him?
Meanwhile, the stranger was having his own doubts:
“This shopkeeper seems odd too — closed shop, messy place, no sign of normalcy.”
Blood? Or Just Paint?
Suddenly, the customer’s gaze fell upon a reddish stain on the floor.
“Is that blood?” he asked, stepping back.
“No, no Babu!” the barber replied quickly.
“Just red paint… I was painting the table, dragged a sack across the floor — that’s all.”
But the line between reality and suspicion was already blurring.
Then the barber mumbled:
“Hold on, my eyesight’s weak… can’t find my glasses.”
He began searching in the corner.
The customer froze for a moment.
“Weak eyesight? What if he is Vikram Sahu?”
An Accident, Alum, and a Growing Doubt
With his glasses finally on, the barber resumed shaving. But his hand shook — and the blade made a small cut.
“Give me some alum, quickly!”
The barber looked confused.
“Where did I put it…?”
The customer got up, opened a drawer himself, and applied the alum.
Now he was nearly certain:
“Someone who doesn’t know where his own things are — can he really be the barber?”
Third Announcement: Suspicion Peaks
For the third time, the radio declared:
“Vikram Sahu still not caught. Citizens advised to remain cautious and stay alert around strangers.”
Now, both men stared at each other — eyes filled with fear, tension, and mistrust.
Then, suddenly — they both stood up.
“You’re the one, aren’t you?”
“No! You are the killer!”
A scuffle broke out. Inside that tiny barbershop, punches flew, shelves toppled, and suspicion boiled over into chaos.
The Truth Revealed
Just then, the radio voice returned — this time, with something new:
“Breaking news… Vikram Sahu has been captured in Suman Nagar. Police confirm he’s in custody. The city can breathe easy now.”
The entire shop fell into silence.
Both men paused, breathless, glancing at one another — eyes now filled not with fear, but shame.
The customer slowly pulled out the money.
“Here… for your work.”
The barber gently pushed the hand away.
“No, Babu… not today. Today I was only giving a shave — not feeding suspicion.”
They smiled, then embraced — two strangers, freed from the fog of doubt that had clouded their minds.
Moral of the Story:
In a world thick with mistrust, even a simple visit to a salon can become a stage for fear and misunderstanding. Sometimes, the real danger isn’t the person in front of us — it’s the stories we invent in our heads.
