If anyone would have ever asked me which part of my body I
loved the most, I would have replied without even blinking that it was my long
hair!
Yes, I had lovely hair – long, thick, black and shining as
silk and I loved it the way it was. The love for those silky strands of hair
grew more after June, 1999, when I met my tall, dark, handsome big man for the
first time and when we were trying to strike a conversation during the lunch
break of our professional meeting, his opening line to the conversation was, ‘’
Wow, you have lovely hair!”
After marriage and children, schedules for days and nights went
for a major toss. Managing two little kids, a job and a house left little time
indeed to take care of my crowning glory. Primarily because of that and
secondarily, because the fashion bug hit me with lot of severity, I cut it
short to a manageable length much to the dismay of my big man and my dad. The
wavy curls adored me till I fell ill with Breast Cancer.
The first meeting with the Oncologist put my apprehension to
rest when he described the side effects of chemotherapy that I would certainly lose
my hair during the treatment. While the husband was more concerned about lot of
other things related to the treatment and the disease, I only had one question
to the doctor, “when do you think I shall get back my hair, if at all it comes
back”. Even though the doctor assured me that the after-growth will be much
nicer, I was literally in tears imagining myself looking ugly with a bald head.
While everybody, who loves and cares for me, was praying for my life, I
secretly started praying to be spared the trauma of losing my hair and go bald!
Eventually, when the inevitable happened and I had no option
but to accept it, I got myself a wig – stylish and trendy which sat pretty on
my “cute, bald” head (my son never let go a chance of telling me how cute my
bald head looked). The first time a picture of mine was put up in Facebook by a
dear friend of mine with that wig, there were quite a number of compliments to
tell me that I looked beautiful with my new hair style! The day I joined back office, my colleagues
agreed unanimously that “I rocked the look”. As I was getting comfortable and used
to it, my children had something different to say when I asked them about my
new look,” The wig is very nice Ma but you look more real and natural without
the wig. Get rid of it”.
…….I stopped wearing the wig and started wearing head-scarf
as I was still not comfortable walking down the street with a hair-less head,
howsoever real and natural I might look.
In a span of few days, a decent collection of scarves was
sitting neatly in my cupboard and just when I started to appreciate my new look
with colorful scarves, it was already peak summer in this desert land. Walking
down to and from office in sweltering heat with a scarf on was not a very
comfortable thing and when I mentioned
this to my son one day just after entering home from office, he startled me
with his logic why I should not cover my head with scarf :
“Ma, on your way to and from office, you meet many people
but do you personally know any one of them? They might be visitors or tourists
or whatever. So, when you do not know them, why do you have to worry how they
feel about your look, if they feel anything at all? Those who know you, they
know exactly why you don’t have hair. You look very pretty with or without hair
and we all love you so much.”
He took the scarf away from my head, wiped the sweat and
said,” From this moment, you are going around as you are”.
…….with tears in my eyes, I promised him that I would flaunt
my “cute, bald” head without any inhibition. All of my friends and colleagues
again agreed that “I rocked the punk look”.
The treatment is over and my “cute, bald” head is now covered
with baby-soft layers of hair. Even though, I had intention of allowing my hair
to grow long, I changed my mind the previous day and got a crew cut. Standing in
front of the mirror, I took a close look at myself and quite liked my new look.
Strangely, for the first time in few months, I was not missing my hair.
Possibly it was God’s own way of telling me not to get too
attached to something as trivial as few strands of hair. With the same logic, I
refused to subject myself to the trauma and agony of reconstruction surgery as
I feel quite comfortable and complete even without a certain body part (I had
to undergo a mastectomy of left breast).
To learn to detach comes with great difficulty. If there
should be any attachment with something on this earth, let it be with and only
with my Almighty who lifted my soul from gloom each moment during the ordeal of
losing my hair and getting them back and let it be with few people who I found standing
next to me each moment I wanted to hold someone’s hand to give me strength.
My wonderful family and friends, you are my only attachment
on this earth and I care for nothing else.
Stay healthy and happy, all of you!
