The Staircase - By Nayana Gadkari
You always arrive where you are meant to be, not where you intended to go. And so, I found myself unexpectedly in Mumbai, pacing up and down the staircase outside the ICU where my mother was admitted. It was a traumatizing sight that afternoon; I had met her for the first time since her brain surgery, her beautiful soft hair, her crowning glory, had been shaved off. She had a row of staples running down her beautiful bald head from the center all the way to the back and left, marking the spot where the neurosurgeon had exposed her brain to remove the clot that was threatening to send her into a coma. Her face lit up brightly as she saw me walk into the ICU. A slight grimace as she struggled to recognize me and then magically that thousand-watt smile when she remembered it was me! It took a superhuman effort to push back the tempest of tears threatening to betray my composure as I walked up to her, held her hand, and told her that she looked absolutely perfect as she did every day.