I was halfway through my yoga class when my
phone suddenly went manic. It started
buzzing like a fax machine – message after message pinging in. Something sensational has gone down in one of
the groups, I thought to myself, going through my yoga poses. I schooled my mind to stay on the routine but
the moment it was done I scanned my phone to find the source of the virtual
commotion.
One of my friends and her family – husband
and two daughters, age 10 and 13 – had shaved their heads and donated their
hair to cancer patients. This was more
of a shock because this friend of mine is one of the most put-together persons
I have ever seen. She has a natural
flair for style and a zest for life that is almost bordering on unbelievable. Following this declaration were a few
pictures of them with shiny pates, and believe
me you, they looked beautiful.
Radiant smiles and sparkling eyes – beauty in its finest form. Following the pictures was a volley of
messages – awe-inspired, shocked, reverent, unbelieving –the common thread
being that everyone was applauding their courage and sacrifice. A few hours into the day and the shock wore
off and the jokes started about “hair-raising tales” and “letting one’s hair
down”. We are all close friends in that
group so it was good-natured teasing and my friend, ever the sport, joined in
the banter.
There was one comment that stayed in my
mind because it mirrored a thought that I think most of us had. “I would never be able to do it. Even knowing that my hair will grow back, I
cannot bring myself to even think of the idea.”
This was my exact thought, that I would not have the courage to do this
in a thousand years, and I could not stop myself from ruminating on the subject
long and hard.
From the time we are little, ideas of
beauty are instilled in our mind through our surroundings and the people in our
world. Our looks are genetic in origin
but our idea of beauty is an environmental influence. No one ever sits us down to go through the
check list. It is one of those things
that we get through osmosis from our surroundings. Which is why beauty has different standards
in different cultures and what is a sign of beauty in one culture may be
something no one looks at twice in another culture. Our looks or rather how we perceive ourselves
when we look into the mirror are a huge part of our self-image and some things
become so important to our self-image that we cannot imagine ourselves without
them – for instance, without hair on our heads.
Many many years ago, widows were forced to
shave their heads just so that they were no longer attractive to the men around
them. That practice served another
purpose. It distorted the woman’s
self-image and crushed her spirit. It
was a constant reminder of the fact that she was a widow. How far is that image from Persis Khambata or
Protima Bedi when they shaved their heads.
The former did it for her character in a movie whereas the latter did it
to make a statement. A statement that
women will not let themselves be held down by the dictates of tradition and
society, that they have the right to choose how they want to look.
A little reading on the matter of hair
brought to the surface so many stories of people who had lost their hair to
cancer and also to another lesser known evil – alopecia areata. Alopecia is an autoimmune disease that causes
sudden loss of patches of hair in a seemingly healthy individual. In a world where bad hair days are dreaded,
these people had to step out of the house with bald patches on their head. Desperation led them to try anything and
everything anyone suggested; from ginger oil and rice water treatments to elixirs
and serums from high-end cosmetic companies and quacks -- all apparently in a
crusade of futility that put these tall claims to dust. Some were lucky that their hair grew back as
the condition subsided while others finally accepted the reality and settled
for wigs or hair extensions from donors just such as my friend and her family. Their newly acquired hair worked wonders for
their emotional well-being and paved the way to their healing.
My appreciation for my friend multiplied
tenfold as I went through my day, all of these thoughts swirling in my
head. Knowing that her hair would grow
back could not have made the decision any easier. It makes one wonder about some people’s
reserves of courage. By defying societal
norms and deep-rooted ideas of self-image, this family has become an absolute
icon for me. They are not supermodels or
Hollywood stars who will gain an advantage from this. They were not forced to do it nor was it
something that happened to them as a result of a condition. They are common people like you and me and
they chose to do this of their own free will; they wanted to do this for the
strangers they have never met who are battling with a disease.
Anthropologist Margaret Mead was once asked
by a student what she considered to be the first sign of civilization and she
answered – a healed femur or thigh bone.
Mead explained that a broken femur takes six weeks to heal. In other animals, a broken bone would mean
certain death. The evidence of a healed
femur fracture in humans shows that someone took the person to safety, tended
to him, brought him food and water, and nursed him back to health. That
is the first sign of civilization.
Today when we see the world around us, we
see humans committing unspeakable crimes against humans, and it sometimes feels
as though the end of civilization is near.
My friend and people like her give us hope. Being a beacon of change, such people inspire
us to become better versions of ourselves, to step out of the invisible circles
we have drawn around ourselves and to make a difference to the world, to do
something that actually matters. I may
not have the courage to do a gesture as magnanimous as yours, but thank you, my
friend, for inspiring me to be a better person in my own small way.
Bakul pradhan
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