Aboli had always been fascinated by hair. The way it could be styled, shaped, and transformed was an art she had admired from a young age. Growing up in Nashik, India, she never had the luxury of a salon to call her own. The pandemic had taken much from her: her parents, and the sense of direction she once had. Yet, it left her with an idea—an ambition to carve a future that reflected her passion for hair.
Unemployed and unsure of where to begin, Aboli found herself often gazing at the reflection in the small mirror she’d hung on her bedroom wall. She would tie her long, dark hair into a simple ponytail, feeling a certain pride in its length and shine. Her hair was her identity, a reminder of the care her mother had put into braiding it, and of the hopes her father had harbored for her success. But that was all gone now. She was alone, and the world outside her small home seemed vast and intimidating.
One afternoon, after the long stretch of time without much change, a thought began to form in Aboli’s mind. What if I could make a living from haircuts? Her scooty sat in the corner, gathering dust, but the idea of offering home-based haircut services seemed like a practical solution. She didn’t have the money to rent a salon space, and the women in her community—many of them busy with work and families—would love a simple, efficient haircut at home without the appointments or the travel. With that in mind, she dusted off her moped, put together a simple business plan, and used every penny she had saved to buy a basic set of tools—a spray bottle, pair of sharp scissors, a straight razor, a comb, and a salon cape she had designed herself, with an ingenious addition: a flap that would catch falling hair, making it easier to clean up after each cut.
Her first client came almost by chance. Aboli had placed a small ad in the Yellow Pages app, offering “personalized, professional haircuts delivered to your door,” and was waiting anxiously for any response. It was late in the afternoon when the phone rang. A woman named Priya had seen the ad and asked for a simple haircut—a V-shaped cut that would add some shape to her long hair. Aboli’s heart skipped a beat. This was it. The first real chance to put her plan into motion.
Priya’s apartment was located in a newer part of Nashik, a well-maintained complex with plants lining the stairwells and children running through the corridors. Aboli parked her moped outside, took a deep breath, and walked up to the door, clutching her bag of tools. When Priya opened the door, she greeted Aboli with a warm smile. She had long, thick black hair that cascaded down her back, and her face was glowing with excitement—perhaps even a little nervousness.
“I’m so glad you could come,” Priya said, leading her to the living room. The room was simple but comfortable, with a large window that let in the soft afternoon light. A wooden chair sat near a table with a cloth draped over it, ready for the transformation. Aboli took a deep breath, setting up her tools on the table as she observed the woman’s long locks. Priya explained that she wanted a V-shape, something modern, but good looking and practical, with the length still intact.
“I trust you,” Priya said, sitting down in the chair. “I’ve had bad experiences with salons, but I think you’ll do great.”
Aboli’s hands trembled slightly as she unwrapped her cape. She had designed it with a small flap that fit snugly around the neck, preventing any stray hairs from falling onto the client’s clothes or floor. The cape was a deep navy blue, a color that complemented most hair types. As she draped it over Priya’s shoulders, she felt a sense of pride in her invention.
She began by gently combing through Priya’s long, smooth hair, her fingers gliding over each lock as she carefully sectioned it into layers. The scissors she used were sharp, gleaming silver blades designed to cut through hair effortlessly. Aboli lifted a small section of Priya’s hair and, with a quick snip, started shaping the V. Each cut was measured, precise, as she worked her way down, the sharp scent of hair freshly trimmed filling the room.
Priya closed her eyes and relaxed, her trust in Aboli’s hands growing with each cut. The rhythm of the scissors, the soft sound of the blades slicing through the air, was almost meditative.
For Aboli, each cut was more than just the action of trimming hair—it was a moment of connection, a step towards her dream. She could feel the weight of her own ambitions pressing in, but she was determined to make this work. As the V-shape began to take form, she marveled at how something so simple could transform the way someone felt about themselves. Priya was already looking a little different—more confident, perhaps, or at least a little lighter.
When the cut was done, Priya stood up and examined herself in the mirror. Her face lit up. “This is perfect,” she said, running her fingers through the V-shape that now framed her face. “Thank you, Aboli. I’m definitely going to recommend you to my friends.”
The satisfaction in Priya’s eyes was all the validation Aboli needed. It wasn’t about the money—it was about the feeling of bringing joy through the simple act of cutting hair. Aboli smiled, packed up her tools, and promised to return soon. As she left the apartment, she felt a sense of purpose ignite within her. This was just the beginning.
Her second client came the following week. Nisha, a woman with shoulder-length hair, had seen her advertisement and was eager to get a layered bob cut. Nisha’s hair was thick and glossy, and she wanted something that would add volume and shape while keeping her style modern and chic.
When Aboli arrived at Nisha’s apartment, she was greeted by the sound of a baby cooing from the other room. Nisha had set up a chair in the living room again, this time next to a bright window where the sunlight streamed in, casting a warm glow over everything. Nisha was already sitting, her hair tied into a loose ponytail. She was ready, but there was a nervous edge to her voice as she explained what she wanted.
“I need something lighter,” she said. “A bob, but with layers. I don’t want it too short, but I want something easier to manage.”
Aboli nodded, setting up her tools as Nisha’s baby played quietly on the floor nearby. The scissors were the same, gleaming silver that sliced cleanly through the thick strands of Nisha’s hair. Aboli’s fingers danced through the woman’s hair, carefully sectioning it into layers. The weight of the hair felt different under her fingers—Nisha’s was thicker and more voluminous than Priya’s had been. There were more hair clippings in the cape this time
As Aboli began cutting, she took extra care, ensuring that each layer was even, each strand falling just the right way. Nisha’s hair started to take shape, the layers falling softly around her face, creating a natural bounce. With every snip, Aboli could see the transformation unfolding, and Nisha’s expression softened.
Nisha’s breath caught as Aboli made the final cut. “It looks so good,” Nisha murmured, standing to look at herself in the mirror. The bob framed her face perfectly, and the layers gave it a light, airy quality.
“I love it. You’re really good at this,” Nisha said, a grateful smile spreading across her face.
With two satisfied clients, Aboli’s dream of running a mobile hair salon had taken its first steps. Each snip of the scissors, each new client was a small victory. It wasn’t just about cutting hair—it was about building trust, forming connections, and providing a service that made people feel better about themselves. For Aboli, the future was now within reach. And with every client, she was one step closer to making her dream a reality.