Then and Now

July 23, 2024

It is amazing how drastically our perspectives change with time and experiences!

My neurosurgeon cleared me for all hair treatments 8-weeks post-op, surprisingly sooner than I was expecting. Unsurprisingly, I was at my favorite Poshe salon, two days later :). As I was waiting for my highlights to dry, I could not help but notice this beautiful young girl seated across from my stall, suddenly sobbing. Within seconds, the entire salon staff swarmed around her. It did not take me too long to get the skinny- it was her first time getting highlights; they were done blond, while she was expecting a completely different shade. The salon staff reassured her and got started with another round of highlights to correct to her satisfaction. She was not done by the time I was ready to leave. I felt compelled to go and give her a hug. I told her that she looked beautiful regardless of the color of her highlights. I fully meant every word I said to her. I also knew that my words did absolutely nothing to assuage her grief.

That incident lingered in my mind for days. I empathized with that girl- the younger me would have reacted somewhat similarly to highlights gone sideways. I kept relating to that experience, not just with my hair, but with many other aspects of my life. There was a time I 'ran' the 5.6mile roundtrip hike from lower Macleay Park to Pittock Mansion and back in an hour and half. Over the past weekend, I was happy to have survived huffing and puffing that same distance that took more than 2.5 hours. For some of Raaga's earliest birthday parties, from baking music-note shaped cookies to designing personalized party favors and elaborate poster boards for decor, I micromanaged every single detail with as much OCD as a mom could possibly display. For her Rangapravesam, I had delegated most of the tasks to all the wonderful friends that came forward to help, and writing the vote of thanks was perhaps the only task that I was 100% involved in! There was a time when I was extremely competitive and would want to ace in anything and everything I did, and never once even imagined falling or failing. During Raaga's dance, just before the intermission, as she was turning and bouncing on the rims of that brass plate, I alternated my glances between Raaga's feet and Lord Nataraja's idol, just praying that she be given the courage to stand back up if and when she slips or falls.

For the past five months, the road to Raaga's Rangapravesam and my own tumor travels were completely intertwined. At every doctor's appointment, my only question was if I would recover in time. I am grateful for my family, friends, and everyone on my health care team that helped me get to where I am today. I am truly proud of how Raaga conducted herself in these past few months, despite all the trials and tribulations the family went through, and despite her own raging teen hormones and all the apprehensions they brought to the table ahead of her big performance. The stellar show that Raaga (and Taara) put together on stage, under the able guidance of their Guru Anu aunty, would have been the only moment the pre-tumor-me would obsess about. It was simply a cherry on top for this post-tumor-me. I shamelessly take inspiration from Raaga's resilience as I head to my 6-week radiation treatment in Seattle, soon.

There was a time I would wake up screaming from the nightmare of a 160 lb+ me photographed with my belly openly showing, standing on the stage, in front of 500 people, no less. And then, there was a time earlier this year when I wondered if I would even be alive to see Raaga's dance. On July 14th, 2024, as I stood with Bhaskar and introduced Raaga's Rangapravesam to the audience, all I felt was the immense gratitude for this gift of life.