Courage

Courage comes in many forms. There are no degrees of courage (mera courage tere courage se better kyun) even though given the level of discourse on paid (unpaid) media (my nationalism is better than yours) it may well soon be a topic of discussion. But I digress... Courage cant be compared simply because we dont know the demons that are being conquered inside a person.

Courage for me in the last few months was appearance. I have always been conscious of not being pretty enough, not being slim enough (not that I do anything about it), not being groomed enough (not that I do anything about it either- innate laziness and preference to spending time reading wins out - every single time). Being blessed (?) with frizzy curly hair the only option of not looking like a lions mane was to tie it up too. In order to look better after Manasvi was born I learnt a few different hairstyles that used to make me look and feel good about myself apart from standing out in a crowd. And then I lost my hair...

As a cancer patient losing hair was always expected. What I didn't predict was the amount of hair I had or the rapidity with which I would lose it - I sat combing my hair one entire afternoon for 4 hours with every brush stroke filling my hand with a fistful of hair and I still had a head of hair and another bag full of hair. Every time I touched my hair I came away with a literal fistful. And it didnt even make my baldness prominent - my hair just looked thinner. This slow stripping away was depressing! Plus Manasvi was curious. So I stuck to my promise to her and explained that I'm losing hair coz I'm taking medicine. I remember out of nowhere she walking up to me one day saying 'mum I'm also losing my hair'. At my credulous expression her reply was 'arre that cough medicine you gave me yest is making me lose my hair' as she showed me the imaginary hairstrands on her brush. Medicine = hair loss - chemo side effects simplified by a 2.5 yr old. She was even curious about how easy it was for my hair to come away and we spent a few fun hours where she pulled out my hair for me (go ahead judge me but it was our coping mechanism so what the heck) and put them in a bag... After the patches became prominent I chose the Mocambo look and got it shaved. And went about life like that.

But then had a dear friends wedding and a nephews birthday party, neither to be missed but my first public functions. I had multiple options - first being missing them altogether (cancer actually gives you good reasons to skip events you never want a part of anyway - everyone sympathizes), second being fashioning a turban or wearing a wig and lastly turning up the way I was. The first 2 options were quickly discarded by what was rapidly becoming my cancer coping mantra - this will not affect my life or how I lead it. What was left was option no 3 and looking for a whole lot of courage to go with it...

Coz even though I would be with people who love me and care for me for both functions there would be even more who didnt know me but would def notice the only bald lady in the hall. So I armed myself with my rudimentary makeup skills, dressed myself in the brightest colors I could find and took up the widest smile I could summon and walked in with my head held high on my husbands arm. Stared back at every person who looked at me daring them to comment (people surprisingly prefer averting gazes to coming out and asking what is foremost in their mind - a distinctly helpful attitude), didnt hold back from participating in every thing and ended up having a whole lot of fun! What a revelation! As long as I was not making a big deal of my baldness (was well prepared with a few Shakaal, Kaancha Cheena, Mocambo jokes), no one else that mattered really cared and those that didnt matter, well who cares!

And that gave me courage. To attend my daughter's first annual function, to celebrate her birthday in a playzone, to join festivities, to join my husband at sports events, to go to restaurants and generally to live life as I wanted to. But in todays day and age, so many girls choose to go bald or have really short hair (remember Barkha Dutt) and they lead normal lives; so why all the fuss you may ask... the key word here ladies and gentlemen is choose. Unlike those people, cancer patients are not given a choice in our hairy matters. What we have are coping mechanisms. And each of those - hiding away, flaunting, wigging it out - need their own form of courage. Like I said courage - it comes in many forms!