Introduction

According to the American Cancer Society, approximately 20 million new cancer cases were reported globally in 2022, alongside 9.7 million cancer-related deaths. In India, recent estimates indicate that one in nine individuals is likely to develop cancer during their lifetime, with the total number of reported cancer cases reaching 1,461,427 in 2022 (Sathishkumar et al. 2022: 599). Globally recognized as a “major societal, public health, and economic problem in the 21st century,” cancer in the Indian context emerges as a layered cultural phenomenon shaped by intersecting forces of fear, stigma, resilience, and narrative control (Bray et al. 2018: 230). Put differently, the Indian cancer experience is deeply imbued with symbolic associations, cultural connotations, and sociopolitical weight (Sahoo et al. 2019: 51). Stigma functions here not as an incidental aspect of illness but as a constitutive element of the cancer experience, operating as a social process involving the actual or anticipated experience of exclusion, rejection, blame, or devaluation arising from perceptions—or the reasonable expectation—of negative societal judgment (Sahoo 2019 et al.; Weiss et al. 2006). Upon diagnosis, cancer undergoes a discursive transformation; it is no longer solely a biomedical condition but becomes what Susan Sontag describes as “a ruthless, secret invasion” (1989: 5). Siddhartha Mukherjee similarly observes that cancer has “metamorphosed into a lethal shape-shifting entity,” one invested with “metaphorical, medical, scientific, and political potency,” which has led it to be understood as “the defining plague of our generation” (2010: 17). These potent characterizations signal that cancer transcends its cellular pathology to become a discursive site where broader cultural anxieties and moral narratives converge.

India has a unique cultural context which comprises myriad belief systems about health and illness. According to many cultural scientists (such as Nyblade et al. 2017; Kaur 2015; Hey et al. 2016; Ray and Mandal 2004; Squiers et al. 2021), cancer, unlike AIDS and TB, is perceived as a betrayal of the body, a pathological process arising from the very cells that comprise the body itself. The sociocultural perception of cancer in India is not that of a medical condition alone, but “karmic justice” and “punishment for living unhealthy lives” due to growing change in “behaviors and lifestyles associated with economic development and urbanization” (Nyblade et al. 2017: 7; Sontag 1989: 133; Mukherjee 2010: 15). Such moralizing discourse compels many patients—particularly women—to hesitate in disclosing their diagnoses, driven by fears of social ostracization and culturally ingrained notions of shame. Their diagnoses are often whispered rather than spoken aloud, reflecting deep-seated anxieties around illness, gender, and social perception. Structural impediments including breaches in confidentiality, a lack of psychosocial support, and an overarching fear of scrutiny further entrench this culture of silence, transforming cancer from a personal health crisis into a collective social malaise. Denial, too, emerges as a central psychological mechanism in this landscape, both enabling and complicating the individual’s response to illness (Kreitler 1999: 514). As a defense mechanism, denial not only buffers the emotional shock of a cancer diagnosis but also perpetuates a broader societal reluctance to confront the illness directly. As Shulamith Kreitler argues, “denial is characteristic of individuals with cancer,” but it also reflects and reinforces normative social scripts that prioritize silence and stoicism over vulnerability and disclosure (1999: 524).

Yet, in recent years, a counter-narrative has emerged—one that foregrounds survivorship, advocacy, and artistic expression. While Western discourse increasingly embraces patient agency and illness memoirs, the persistent rhetoric of ‘battles’ and ‘survivors’ continues to shape perceptions in India, often reducing lived experiences to simplistic binaries of triumph or defeat. Contemporary illness memoirs, graphic narratives, and films engage with and challenge these dominant metaphors, offering alternative perspectives that emphasize agency, care, and collective responsibility. The cultural perception of cancer thus operates at the intersection of biomedicine, narrative, and sociopolitical discourse, influencing everything from healthcare policies to the way individuals experience and articulate their diagnoses. Examining literary and visual representations of cancer enables scholars to critically analyze how the illness is narrativized, mythologized, and contested within cultural imaginaries, shaping both public consciousness and medical ethics and facilitating sociopolitical critique, thus revealing the layered intersections between disease, discourse, and power. It shapes not only the ways in which illness is experienced and articulated but also influences the formulation of public health policies and the conceptualization of medical ethics.

Representation of Cancer in Indian Context

In India, cinema “has the capacity to create reality in a specific way,” capturing myriad life experiences that exist “outside, beyond or beside” the cinematic frame (Rushton 2011: 11, 8). However, Indian films about cancer often present a bleak and discouraging portrayal of the disease. Medical practitioners argue that while cancer has “remained an attraction for the Bollywood community to texture film narratives,” cinematic depictions frequently reinforce the inevitability of death, misleading audiences about potential treatment outcomes (Pati 2015: 895). Such portrayals obscure the “possibility of recovery,” particularly for individuals with limited health literacy in rural and urban India (Pati 2015: 895). For instance, the Hindi language film We Are Family (2010) offers a poignant yet problematic representation of cervical cancer through the character of Maya (starring Kajol). Despite significant medical advancements, the film depicts Maya’s inevitable demise, raising concerns about the perpetuation of outdated and fatalistic narratives surrounding cancer treatment. Similarly, Sanam Teri Kasam (2016) presents a misleading depiction of brain cancer, as Saru (starring Mawra Hocane) succumbs to the disease shortly after diagnosis. A particularly troubling moment occurs when a doctor informs Saru’s family that brain cancer typically presents with only mild symptoms, such as headaches and low-grade fever—a claim that risks spreading misinformation and obscuring the importance of early detection.

Beyond medical inaccuracies, Indian cinema also disseminates “nihilistic views regarding the curative potential of modern treatment,” blending traditional myths with illness narratives in ways that promote hopelessness (Pati 2015: 895). Yet in another Hindi film, Aashayein (2010), follows Rahul (starring John Abraham), a lung cancer patient who embarks on a mythical quest to a Himalayan waterfall rumored to cure the disease. Such narratives, rooted in fantastical quests, serve as cautionary tales against the allure of unsubstantiated and unscientific remedies. These remedies are prevalent in the Indian context and unfortunately perpetuated through cinematic portrayals, conveying misguided notions of disease and recovery to the audience.

In contrast to these fatalistic portrayals, contemporary media verbal narratives and magazines, among other on medical conditions, offer an alternative framework through which individuals articulate their experiences with cancer. These narratives frequently follow a triumphal structure, wherein a patient “battles a disease, overcomes numerous obstacles, and, in the end, returns to life having learned some important lessons” (Conway 2007: 17). Such stories resonate deeply with audiences, as they offer hope, inspiration, and a roadmap for navigating illness. As Arthur Frank explains, the restitution narrative is a dominant way in which individuals make sense of serious illness. In this framework, the ill person regains health through personal strength or medical intervention, aligning with the broader cultural expectation that “anyone who is sick wants to be healthy again” (Frank 1995: 77). Frank further notes that these narratives shape the way illness is culturally perceived, as “people tell their own unique stories, but they compose these stories by adapting and combining narrative types that cultures make available” (Frank 1995: 75).

Shormistha Mukherjee’s Cancer, You Picked the Wrong Girl: A True Story (2021) as the title itself suggests, is a declaration of defiance, a story of courage, resilience, and the refusal to let cancer define Mukherjee. More than just a personal account of breast cancer survival, Mukherjee’s memoir serves as a manifesto of refusal to succumb to fear and despair, thereby challenging the perception that female bodies deemed “defective, spoiled, damaged, or dirtied” should be objects of shame (Bouson 2010: 14). Generally, a woman’s breasts hold enormous significance in terms of societal judgement, as they are “the daily visible and tangible signifier of her womanliness, and her experience is as variable as the size and shape of breasts themselves” (Young 1992: 215). Mukherjee’s refusal to succumb to fear and despair and her insistence on living with purpose and joy, even in the face of illness, are recurring motifs throughout the memoir, thus offering a refreshing alternative to the usual victim-survivor dichotomy.

Diagnosed with ovarian cancer during the Saraswati Puja¹ festival, Srutimala Duara’s decision to seek immediate medical attention reflects a proactive approach that contrasts with the often-observed hesitancy in addressing health issues in India. Throughout her memoir, My Journey Through Cancer (2022), Duara emphasizes the critical importance of regular health check-ups, particularly for women who may believe that the absence of symptoms equates to good health. Duara articulates a desire to reach readers who might take life for granted, underscoring the necessity of vigilance and proactive healthcare. The memoir also sheds light on the Indian healthcare system, detailing Duara’s experiences with chemotherapy at the State Cancer Institute in Guwahati, providing a window into the challenges and nuances of navigating cancer treatment in India, including the pivotal role of familial and social support systems. Duara’s memoir contributes significantly to the discourse on illness narratives in India, challenging prevailing stigmas associated with cancer. By sharing her journey, Duara not only demystifies aspects of the disease but also offers solace and guidance to others facing similar battles, thus underscoring the transformative power of personal narratives in fostering awareness and resilience within the Indian socio-cultural landscape.

Another compelling strand is the emergence of celebrity cancer narratives. Celebrity culture in India functions as a powerful sociocultural force, simultaneously reflecting and shaping the aspirations, anxieties, and everyday lives of the masses. Rooted in the confluence of Bollywood, cricket, and an expanding digital landscape, Indian celebrity culture extends beyond admiration to embody an aspirational ethos wherein public figures become proxies for success, modernity, and social mobility. Celebrities often serve as cultural signifiers embodying idealized forms of beauty, wealth, and lifestyles that blur the boundaries between spectacle and authenticity. However, by narrating their cancer experiences, celebrities such as Manisha Koirala in Healed: How Cancer Gave Me a New Life (2018) (stage IV ovarian cancer) and Lisa Ray in Close to the Bone (2019) (multiple myeloma) recast their glamorous and cosmetically curated bodies as ontologically unstable and pathologized bodies (Nayar 2020: 87). These narratives disrupt the traditionally private space of illness by making bodily vulnerability hyper-visible, inviting readers to confront the fragility of life and the unpredictable nature of disease. Such memoirs often oscillate between resilience and fear, hope and despair, reflecting the psychological tumult of survivorship while reinforcing a rhetoric of strength. By occupying both the limelight and the sickbed, these celebrities recalibrate the public discourse around illness, simultaneously empowering others to voice their experiences, yet risking the reinforcement of aspirational and often unattainable ideals of heroic recovery. The celebrity cancer memoir thus becomes both a site of radical honesty and complex negotiation, shaping national imaginaries of health, identity, and endurance.

Other celebrity cancer narratives include Yuvraj Singh’s The Test of My Life (2013) (seminoma lung cancer). In The Test of My Life, Singh recounts his battle with cancer, highlighting how it tested his physical and mental resilience, ultimately concluding with his return to professional cricket. In the digital space, celebrity writer Tahira Kashyap Khurrana’s My Ex-Breast (2020), a seven-episode Audible Suno series, offers a candid and humorous account of her breast cancer, mastectomy, and breast reconstruction, thereby challenging taboos surrounding female health and body image. These illness accounts (written/visual/verbal) reject nihilism and passivity, instead framing cancer as a site of personal growth, resilience, and reclamation of agency. Through these alternative portrayals, they challenge the fatalism of mainstream India, offering more nuanced representations of cancer, survival, and healing.

Similarly, the Bengali film Konttho (2019) provides a compelling restitution narrative centered on Arjun Mallick (starring Shiboprosad Mukherjee), a radio jockey diagnosed with laryngeal cancer. Unlike many mainstream films, Konttho aligns with contemporary medical advancements, depicting Arjun’s successful laryngectomy and rehabilitation. While initially struggling with depression and identity loss, Arjun eventually learns to speak using an oesophageal voice and returns to his profession, demonstrating the power of medical science and human resilience. The film deliberately eschews melodrama and fatalism, instead offering a critical engagement with prevailing stereotypes that portray cancer as an inevitable death sentence.

In India, newspapers play a pivotal role in raising awareness about cancer, disseminating information on prevention, early detection, and treatment options, by highlighting personal stories and societal initiatives, thereby contributing to a broader understanding of the disease. In observance of Cervical Cancer Awareness Month 2025, NDTV published an article titled “Cervical Cancer Awareness Month 2025: It Contributes To 6–29% Of All Cancers In Women; Here’s What To Do,” providing comprehensive information on preventive measures, including vaccination and regular screenings, tailored for Indian women. Although an international publication, The Guardian reported on India’s efforts to combat cervical cancer through articles like “India Gets its Own HPV Vaccine to Stop 70,000 Women Dying of Cervical Cancer a Year” (2024) and “India Trains Thousands of Medics to Promote Vaccine in Huge Push to End Cervical Cancer” (2025), discussing the development and rollout of India’s indigenous HPV vaccine and the training of medical professionals to promote vaccination. Held around International Women’s Day every day, the Lavasa Women’s Drive, in collaboration with The Times of India, campaigns about various cancers that affect women, emphasizing early detection and prevention.

Graphic Medicine and Neelam Kumar’s To Cancer, with Love

Since 2007, graphic medicine has established itself as a significant field of scholarship within the broader discourse of health humanities. Graphic medicine, the intersection of comics and the discourse of healthcare, has successfully addressed and demystified health-related taboos, particularly illnesses and disabilities that have been highly stigmatized socially and culturally, such as cancer, AIDS, paralysis, and deafness (Couser 2004: xii). Unlike typical prose-based illness narratives, graphic narratives utilize a multimodal language that enables a layered depiction of medical experiences, allowing readers to engage with illness not just as a clinical condition but as a deeply personal and socially embedded phenomenon. The visual grammar of comics further enables the representation of affective states such as pain, fear, and hope through metaphor, panel transitions, and spatial arrangements, often surpassing the expressive limitations of prose. Graphic medicine, like literature and activism, challenges such stigma, thus offering alternative representations that humanize cancer beyond statistics and clinical jargon. Across borders, the shared urgency to destigmatize cancer fuels new dialogues, uniting storytelling, healthcare, and culture in a collective reimagining of illness and recovery. Within the context of cancer culture, comics provide a powerful medium to challenge prevailing narratives of fear, stigma, and victimhood often associated with the disease. By visualizing the embodied experience of cancer, graphic narratives disrupt dominant cultural representations that frame patients solely as passive sufferers or heroic survivors. Instead, they offer nuanced perspectives that acknowledge the complexities of pain, treatment, caregiving, and survivorship. Through metaphor, symbolism, and the interplay of text and image, comics enable a deeper exploration of the psychosocial and emotional dimensions of cancer, promoting empathy, advocacy, and a more inclusive discourse on illness.

Despite its growing prominence, graphic medicine remains predominantly Eurocentric, with scholarly discourse largely centered on works produced in the United States, Canada, and the United Kingdom. Graphic narratives emerging from non-Western contexts, particularly India, remain significantly underexplored. Addressing this critical gap, the present interview article focuses on To Cancer, with Love: A Graphic Novel (2017) (Figure 1) by Neelam Kumar—India’s first graphic pathography—and reads it in conjunction with its prose counterpart, To Cancer, with Love: My Journey of Joy (2015). Through an email interview, Kumar reflects on the artistic and narrative strategies she employs to disrupt stereotypes, cultivate resilience, and depict self-care in the context of illness. The article further explores how the intersection of graphic medicine and Indian cancer culture foregrounds the need to address not only medical treatment but also the psychosocial dimensions of survivorship, gendered experiences of care, and the culturally specific framing of illness and recovery.

Figure 1

Cover page of To Cancer, with Love: A Graphic Novel (Kumar, 2017). © 2017 Neelam Kumar. Used with permission.

Neelam Kumar’s To Cancer, with Love: A Graphic Novel (2018), adapted from Kumar’s earlier textual memoir To Cancer, with Love: My Journey of Joy (2015), is a deeply moving work underscoring the complex emotions and challenges of battling cancer through a blend of personal storytelling, humor, and visuals. This unconventional choice of the comic format for such a subject allows Kumar to convey complex emotions and present a perspective on cancer. Through bold colors, dynamic shading, and expressive illustrations, she departs from the muted tones traditionally associated with illness narratives. By doing so, Kumar reclaims the visual representation of cancer, infusing her story with resilience, vitality, and agency, challenging the dominant aesthetics of suffering and medicalization. By blending text and imagery, comics facilitate a nuanced exploration of cancer culture, revealing the emotional, psychological, and societal dimensions of the disease.

Chronicling her personal experience with breast cancer twice, she avoids self-pity, instead emphasizing the power of humor and resilience. In India, where cancer remains a deeply stigmatized illness, the present comic offers an alternative space for challenging dominant narratives, promoting dialogue and visualizing embodied experiences that often elude conventional discourse. Kumar’s pathography follows her story from diagnosis through treatment and recovery, addressing both the physical toll of the disease and its emotional rollercoaster. Rather than depicting herself solely as a victim, Kumar presents herself as a fighter, using humor, wit, and optimism as tools for survival. What makes To Cancer, with Love stand out is its ability to blend serious medical issues with moments of joy and laughter. The title itself suggests a relationship with cancer that is not solely one of suffering but also of acceptance, understanding, and transformation. The memoir is not just about surviving cancer but about personal growth and inner strength. Its tone is warm, candid, and often irreverent, creating a sense of intimacy. Kumar does not shy away from the harsh realities of her experience but presents them in an uplifting and optimistic manner. For instance, while women generally experience traumatic experiences of breast examination, loss of breast(s), and the dilemma of reconstruction, Kumar confronts her doctor with openness and composure, rejecting the practice of concealment and remaining unaffected by the socio-cultural stigma and shame associated with female body (Boesky 2015: 74; Webb et al. 2019: 50). Ultimately, the memoir is as much about overcoming fear as it is about fighting the disease itself. By visually narrating her journey, Kumar’s To Cancer, with Love: A Graphic Novel—India’s first graphic pathography—expands the possibilities of Indian graphic medicine, offering a counter-narrative to the often-silent suffering associated with cancer.

Kumar is an Indian author, motivational speaker, and cancer survivor who has written extensively on topics related to personal empowerment, mental health, and resilience. Through her writing, Kumar dismantles prevailing stereotypes of cancer survivors as passive victims; instead, she embraces and projects a narrative of resilience and positivity, emphasizing the crucial role of humor, inner strength, and love in navigating the challenges of illness. In addition to her work as an author, Kumar has also conducted workshops, talks, and motivational sessions to inspire others, particularly women and cancer patients. Kumar’s contributions to literature, alongside her advocacy for cancer awareness and mental health, have established her as a significant and influential voice in contemporary discourse on illness and resilience.

Social Death and Cancer Stigma

Among the many ways graphic memoirs challenge dominant discourses of illness, one of the most powerful is their depiction of social interactions that frame the patient is on the verge of death, illustrated poignantly in Kumar’s memoir (see Figure 2). Despite substantial advances in cancer detection, treatment, and survivorship care, the diagnosis continues to carry with it a deeply ingrained social stigma—one that frames the illness not only as a biological affliction but also as a moral and existential failure. The diagnosis often triggers social distancing, moral judgment, and anticipatory grief, all of which combine to strip patients of dignity and agency long before any clinical prognosis is realized. This panel (Figure 2) vividly captures the moment where societal attitudes reduce Kumar to a symbol of bad fate and pity, effectively marking her as ‘othered’ even before the disease has concluded its biological course. The panel depicts three individuals grouped together on the left, offering ostensibly sympathetic yet deeply patronizing remarks to Kumar, who stands isolated on the right, visually and emotionally distanced. Their remarks—“It’s all bad karma you know” and “Why else would one get such a deadly disease?”—evoke a culturally entrenched narrative that frames illness, especially cancer, that is interpreted not merely through biomedical explanations, but through moralistic and spiritual logics. These comments, while disguised as concern, reinforce a worldview in which the patient is blamed for her condition, either due to spiritual impurity, past misdeeds, or metaphysical imbalance. The final remark—“It’s been very nice knowing you, ma’am”—further underscores the assumption of impending death, effectively treating her as already absent from the social sphere.

Figure 2

A panel from Kumar’s To Cancer, with Love: A Graphic Novel (2018), exemplifying the socio-cultural perception that cancer is a punishment for bad karma. © 2017 Neelam Kumar. Used with permission.

Visually, the composition emphasizes Kumar’s isolation. Kumar is positioned apart from the trio, her expression marked by surprise and disbelief as she responds with a soft “Excuse me?” suggesting both disbelief and a quiet resistance to the social erasure she is undergoing. The spatial separation also underscores her alienation, as though she has already been excluded from the world of the living, even as she stands in front of them, fully present. The moment is not merely about interpersonal rudeness, it illustrates a broader systemic erasure of the ill as subjects worthy of future-oriented engagement. Utilizing the multimodal affordances of comics, the panel powerfully depicts the layers of affective and social trauma that accompany a cancer diagnosis. The use of color, gesture, spatial division, and textual interplay between speech and body language renders visible the nuances of stigma that traditional medical narratives often overlook. Moreover, by portraying the microaggressions and unsolicited judgments that accompany a diagnosis, Kumar critiques the sociocultural ideologies that perpetuate cancer fatalism, despite advances in treatment and survivorship. Through her narrative, she not only exposes the limitations of biomedical discourse but also critiques the deeply embedded social scripts that dehumanize patients. Through the medium of comics, Kumar reconfigures cultural perceptions of illness, survival, and storytelling’s role in healing, challenging conventional narratives of cancer. In particular, Kumar’s memoir not only broadens the scope of Indian graphic medicine but also underscores the transformative power of visual storytelling in shaping public discourse around cancer and survivorship.

Embodied Rebellion: Humor and Hope through Carol in Kumar’s Memoir

Kumar conceptualizes and incorporates a compelling narrative device in her memoir by introducing readers to Carol, her alter-ego (Figure 3). Carol functions not merely as a fictional persona, but as a visual and textual embodiment of resistance, inner vitality, and narrative agency. In the graphic memoir form, Carol is more than a coping mechanism—she is a performative counter-self who enables Kumar to externalize, satirize, and visually contest the emotional and physical toll of her illness. Carol is first introduced as “the ever-youthful, desirable, fearless girl inside me who laughs at every difficulty life throws at us” (9), immediately marking Carol as a figure of exuberance and vitality, constructed in direct contrast to the conventional image of the cancer patient as weak, pitiful, or defeated. The adjectives “youthful,” “desirable,” and “fearless” are notably absent in dominant discourses of illness, which often prioritize stoicism, silence, or victimhood. Carol laughs in the face of adversity, positioning humor not as denial but as an act of defiance. Carol’s laughter is not incidental; it is tactical, reclaiming a space of levity and joy even amidst suffering.

Figure 3

A panel from Kumar’s To Cancer, with Love: A Graphic Novel (2018), introducing Carol. © 2017 Neelam Kumar. Used with permission.

Moreover, Kumar’s continued description of Carol as “everything I am not—plucky, optimistic, and filled with mirth. She is as soft as the night breeze and as strong as a ferocious typhoon when the situation demands it” further reveals Carol’s dual nature: gentle yet powerful, emotional yet action-oriented. This poetic juxtaposition—between softness and strength—challenges the binary constructions of femininity and illness. The phrase “everything I am not” suggests Carol emerges from a perceived lack, a compensatory figure. But through this act of creation, Kumar is not confessing a deficit; she is strategically multiplying her subjectivity, splitting the self into dialogic parts that reflect the tension between despair and determination. Carol becomes a psychological and narrative resource, allowing Kumar to articulate what might otherwise be unspeakable. Most striking is the declaration that “Carol is my strong, gutsy, impulsive side. She is my strident inner babe who keeps buzzing into my ears, ‘On your marks, get set … go!’”. Put boldly, Kumar frames Carol not only as an internal voice but as a coach, a cheerleader, and a provocateur. The racing metaphor—“On your marks, get set … go!”—infuses the memoir with kinetic energy and performance. It disrupts the inertia typically associated with illness narratives and instead emphasizes motion, spontaneity, and futurity. Carol’s stridency, her refusal to be subdued, also challenges societal expectations that patients should be quiet, grateful, or emotionally contained. The comic format itself enhances Carol’s function. Unlike prose, which might merely describe an alter-ego, the visual dimension of graphic memoir enables Carol to appear on the page, speak, move, and emote. Readers witness her facial expressions, body language, and interactions, experiencing her presence in a way that mirrors her vitality in Kumar’s psyche. This multimodal representation collapses the line between metaphor and reality—Carol becomes real in the world of the comic, asserting graphic embodiment as a mode of psychological realism.

Ultimately, Carol helps Kumar maintain a tone of humor and irreverence, without trivializing the seriousness of her condition. She embodies a form of narrative resistance, allowing Kumar to reframe the story of cancer from one of passive suffering to one of active engagement. Through Carol, Kumar refuses the reduction of her identity to that of “the patient” and instead claims space as a complex subject capable of joy, irony, anger, and rebellion. In this way, Kumar reclaims narrative control, demonstrating how humor and alterity can function not as avoidance but as affirmation of life amidst illness.

The Interview

What motivated you to create an autobiographical account of your experience with breast cancer, particularly within the context of prevailing stigma and cultural secrecy surrounding the illness in Indian/South Asian contexts? And how did your experience with cancer shape your perspective on storytelling?

Neelam Kumar (Neelam Kumar): I had just returned to India after completing my Master’s in Journalism in the US when I was shocked to discover that cancer had become a huge epidemic in the country [India]. What was even more shocking was the fact that, despite the rising breast cancer rates in India, women were not speaking about it. Why? Because there was too much shame and stigma attached to discussing any illness related to the breast. The irony of the situation struck me deeply. In a scenario where early detection is the best form of prevention, many women were suffering painful deaths or getting diagnosed too late to be saved. Moreover, getting cancer was seen as a death sentence.

In this context of stigma and cultural secrecy surrounding the illness, when I was diagnosed with breast cancer myself, I knew I had been chosen to help others. There were simply no positive, empowering books in which the cancer fighter survives and goes on to live a fulfilling life!

So, I decided to create an autobiographical account of my journey—one that was filled with joy and underpinned by the belief that I would win.

To Cancer, with Love: A Graphic Novel became India’s FIRST joyous graphic novel on cancer. My greatest joy came from seeing how women around the world felt empowered after reading it.

My perspective on storytelling was strengthened, and I became even more convinced that readers are looking for authentic stories that they can relate to, learn from, and grow emotionally and spiritually through.

What influenced you to title your work To Cancer, with Love? Could you elaborate on the significance this title holds for you and how it encapsulates the themes of your narrative?

Neelam Kumar: I had just published my book To Cancer, with Love: My Journey of Joy. While undergoing chemotherapy, I began looking for books that would lift my spirits. I picked up three classics: Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom, The Last Lecture by Jeffrey Zaslow and Randy Pausch, and Grit and Grace by Tim McGraw. These are wonderful books, but frankly, they left me feeling depressed, as in each one, the protagonist dies.

Now, I had made up my mind not to die. So, in the absence of any cheerful books on the subject, I decided to become my own cheerleader and write something that would inspire me. I figured that if I treated my illness not as a devil, but as a caring lover, we could both enjoy our time together. This is why I wrote To Cancer, with Love.

Happily, my readers also showered it with love, helping it become India’s first joyous book on cancer and a widely cherished one. It became their go-to guide for handling any kind of adversity.

Why did you convey your story through the dual formats of a prose memoir and a graphic novel?

Neelam Kumar: My prose memoir, To Cancer, with Love: My Journey of Joy (available on Kindle and Amazon), was already doing well and helping many cancer-stricken people and their caregivers. However, I realized that with the rising number of cancer cases in my country [India], I needed to reach out to many more people. But how could I overcome the challenge of a dwindling readership, short attention spans, and rushed lives? That’s when the idea of creating an attractive, colorful graphic novel came to mind. I envisioned it as a “power shot of courage” that people “on the go” could easily read. And it worked!

In your view, what unique contributions does the comics medium bring to the narrative, particularly in capturing the complexities of your experience?

Neelam Kumar: I realized that people love the visual medium. Busy readers could quickly flip through the colorful comic book, admire the stunning illustrations, smile at a relatable character facing her fears, rejoice as she finally wins the tough battle, and close the book feeling courageous and empowered.

The comic medium works because it offers a hybrid world—part textual, part visual. The two elements build upon each other, enhancing the imagery and speeding up the action. It’s quick, effective communication—and also enjoyable.

What were the most significant challenges you encountered while crafting both the prose memoir and the graphic novel adaptation of To Cancer, with Love, particularly in balancing the emotional depth of your story with the unique demands of each format?

Neelam Kumar: Thinking about the challenges I faced in creating my graphic novel still makes me shudder.

The biggest challenge was securing the FUNDS! (You see, authors like me are rich in ideas but not in money! And cancer treatment drains every penny!) But, like all things meant to be, this too had a happy ending.

Once the decision was made in my mind, I began scouting for the best illustrators. I was referred to MOOVIX.INC. However, because their work was spectacular, so was the price quoted.

I decided to crowd-fund the book through a website that gave me only 60 days to raise the desired amount. Despite my constant pleading on social media that this graphic novel would be a significant gift to India in the field of handling any adversity, very few people opened their purses. The clock was ticking fast.

So, I went back to praying harder. I follow the Buddhist philosophy of the Lotus Sutra, which has a powerful chant that ensures victory—Nam-Myoho-Renge-Kyo. Once again, it worked, just as it had worked in helping me conquer the illness bravely.

Just a week before the 60-day deadline, I received a call and a cheque from the late Ratan Tata and superstar Amitabh Bachchan. They had decided to back my project because they saw value in my work and had liked the prose version of the book. I will remain forever grateful to them.

Frantic and continuous calls and emails to Canada ensured that the illustrator understood and executed the kind of emotional depth I wanted for the story. I was excited to see the final delivery of my graphic novel as a link in my inbox.

But once again, I found myself up against a blank wall. No publisher was willing to publish a graphic novel, as they had not yet ventured into that genre. It was a struggle to get it published, as India was just waking up to the idea of a graphic novel on this subject. But finally, I did find a kind publisher who helped bring it to life. However, no marketing followed.

Yet, like all the other challenges in my life, these too had happy endings. Once out in print, readers began lapping it up. And that made me smile.

Your memoir (both prose and graphic) deals with deeply personal themes like illness, resilience, and love. How did you approach these themes while ensuring authenticity and relatability with your readers?

Neelam Kumar: By simply opening my heart and allowing readers to experience, through my words, all the feelings I had gone through—the pain of the illness, the armor of resilience I had decided to don, and finally, the love I had felt for my illness after realizing that it had visited me to make me a better person. It was such an empowering feeling when I realized that I had been ‘chosen’ to become a messenger of hope and joy for the stricken and the suffering. It made me feel grateful for being the chosen one to write the first joyous book on cancer for my country.

I think authenticity is beautiful. Not faking it is powerful. Baring your heart works. Readers love real-life experiences from an authentic source. They love happy endings—not toxic positivity, but winning after a real struggle.

Carol, your alter-ego, plays a pivotal role in To Cancer, with Love. What inspired you to conceptualize and incorporate her as a narrative device, and in what ways did she facilitate the exploration and articulation of your experiences with cancer?

Neelam Kumar: Conceptualizing and incorporating Carol as a narrative device created a more nuanced, engaging, and inspiring story.

I didn’t create a false image of myself as a cancer-stricken person going through chemotherapy as if I had no care in the world. Of course, I was frightened. I was trembling with fear when the ‘red devil’ was being prepared to be injected into me. That was the truth. And that made it real for my readers. But my goal was to inspire people. In the absence of any inspirational literature to lean on, I dipped into my own deepest resource—my soul—and brought out my hero from within—Carol. Interestingly, every person has a weak and a strong side. As a patient, I felt immense fear. But there was this confident, sassy, joyful alter ego inside me who kicked my butt and said, ‘Let’s go through it. Joyfully’. So, in a way, Carol was my coping mechanism.

Incorporating Carol as a bold, fearless personality created an emotional contrast that kept my readers engaged while dealing with my real-life vulnerability. It also served other important purposes, such as offering comic relief, embodying resilience, creating symbolic inner strength, and facilitating self-reflection. Above all, Carol endeared herself to all by becoming a powerful symbol of one’s ability to overcome adversity.

What is resilience in the context of illness? And how has your understanding of resilience evolved through your cancer journey?

Neelam Kumar: Resilience, in the context of illness, is the capacity to withstand, recover, and adapt in the face of adversity. For me, resilience was not innate. Frankly, I developed this muscle by working on it throughout my cancer journey.

I learned that resilience is not about being unbreakable, but about being brave, vulnerable, and open to the present moment. It requires effort, practice, and patience. It involves developing coping skills, seeking support, and cultivating self-compassion. Above all, it requires a huge dose of self-love and the determination to overcome whatever one is up against.

Today, I understand resilience as thriving in the face of adversity, living with intention and purpose, and inspiring others to do the same.

To Cancer, With Love:A Graphic Novel holds the distinction of being the first Indian graphic memoir to address illness, positioning your work within the emerging field of graphic medicine. Were you aware of graphic medicine during the creation of your narrative?

Neelam Kumar: Yes, I love the fact that my graphic novel holds the distinction of being the first Indian graphic memoir to address illness. While writing it, I had no idea I was creating something so important. In the absence of any ‘happy literature’ in India, and realizing the critical need for it, I simply decided to write one. It was fun becoming my own cheerleader.

No, I was not aware of graphic medicine at all. Now that I am, through you, let’s collaborate to spread the message and create more of these powerful doses.

How do you see your work contributing to the evolving dialogue between literature, visual storytelling, and the broader field of health humanities?

Neelam Kumar: As a writer, I have been credited with several ‘first-of-its-kind’ books. I am excited by the evolving dialogue between literature, visual storytelling, and health humanities. My inspirational books have been helping cancer-stricken individuals, those who are struggling, their caregivers, and the health-conscious around the globe. That makes me feel that my life has been worthwhile. It excites me at the deepest level of my soul’s core.

Of course, I would love to contribute to this area, but since this is also my source of livelihood, I would need to be compensated for it. That seems only fair, doesn’t it?

Were there specific works or creators in comics, literature, or health humanities that influenced your approach to this story?

Neelam Kumar: I am glad nothing influenced my urgency to write my original graphic novel on cancer. I was looking for hopeful writings to cheer me on.

So, I read three classics—The Last Lecture, Tuesdays with Morrie, and Grit and Grace. I also re-watched the Hindi film Anand. In all of these, the protagonist dies, which left me feeling depressed.

However, I had decided to live. Therefore, I wrote my own inspirational story and followed it through, making my journey a joyful one.

Who did you imagine as the audience for To Cancer, with Love, and what do you hope they take away from it? Have you received any feedback from readers, particularly those who may have experience with breast cancer? If so, how has their response influenced you?

Neelam Kumar: Oh yes, lots of feedback—all filled with gratitude from the stricken, the struggling, and the clueless, as well as their confused caregivers. They thanked me for talking about a taboo subject like the breast so openly. In India, there is a lot of shame attached to this taboo topic. The media discusses this organ in terms of titillation, which shames women into hiding, instead of addressing the illness associated with it. Shame, myths, societal misinformation, lack of education, societal patriarchal attitudes, and placing their own health at the bottom of the family’s health pyramid prevent women from seeking help ‘that funny feeling in the breast.’ They know nothing about how early detection is the best prevention.

My book gave them a lot of courage to voice what they were going through and demand a doctor’s visit. I heard horror stories from rural women who had been kicked out by their husbands for having ‘got infected’ with cancer. I discovered what a huge social evil these myths and superstitions are, as most of these husbands kicked their wives out and promptly got themselves younger brides!

There were also happy stories. I didn’t have funds to hire expensive illustrators to create stunning visuals, so I started my appeal for crowdfunding on social media. I am immensely grateful to a cancer-stricken, golden-hearted lady in London who cooked a delicious meal, charged for it, and promptly sent me what she had collected. I felt immense grief when Shahin Panju succumbed to the illness later. Women from all over wrote to me about how much courage, hope, and motivation this book had given them.

What kinds of conversations do you hope your cancer memoir sparks among readers, especially within the context of health humanities or cancer narratives?

Neelam Kumar: I hope we normalize this conversation and stop sweeping it under the carpet. Let us invite motivational speakers like me—the real adversity fighters—to share real conversations.

I also hope my cancer memoir gets translated into regional languages to make it accessible to all. The monster of cancer is on the prowl. Should we not arm ourselves to stay a step ahead of it?

What role does community play in your narrative?

Neelam Kumar: A supportive community is crucial. You cannot fight this battle alone. You don’t need visitors who will depress you further by sharing sob stories about all their friends and relatives who have died painful deaths. You need a community of people who will join you in your fight to WIN.

I am so grateful to my private army—my three sisters, Poonam, Anupama, and Shabnam, as well as my friend Avnita—who made me laugh and helped me focus only on the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. They filled me with hope and courage and told me stories about the fun we would all have together once I got through this tiny rough patch. They were indeed my possessive private army, as they refused to allow any visitors who would depress me. And then, of course, there was my own alter ego, Carol. With so much support, how could I not bounce back to health quickly?

How did you navigate and challenge societal expectations surrounding body image and physical appearance, both during your cancer journey and in its aftermath, particularly in the cultural context in which your story is situated?

Neelam Kumar: I simply decided to defy societal expectations of what a cancer warrior should look like. I was in a position of power as Head of Communications at India’s largest steel company. The news of my diagnosis traveled quicker than I could reach my workplace.

As I walked toward my cabin, my team of men and women, who were standing in a row to show their sympathy, were confused to see me walking in high heels, lipstick and sari in place, wishing them a happy good morning with a smile. I think it was a silent message to everyone: fight adversity bravely and don’t indulge in loose talk or needless pity. They took the cue from there.

Also, when a colleague came up to me, shook my hand, and said, ‘Bon voyage, Madam. It was wonderful knowing you!’ I publicly silenced him with a smile and a loud, ‘Where am I going? I might outlive you!’

During chemotherapy, when my hair fell out, I would go up on stage, bald head and all, and empower the audience with inspiring talks on how to beat adversity of any kind. It worked!

What are your upcoming projects? Would you consider exploring the medium of comics in your future work? If so, what stories or themes do you envision addressing through this format?

Neelam Kumar: Currently, I am the bestselling author of eleven books—all centered around the topics of hope, motivation, and inspiration. Among these are actor Manisha Koirala’s biography Healed: How Cancer Gave Me a New Life, I am a Sea of Possibilities: A Personal Growth Coloring Book, I am Invincible: Thirteen True Tales of Courage, Grit, & Survival.

Yet, my heart lies in expressing myself through the medium of comics. This medium is perfect for our times of dwindling readership and short attention spans. The only problem is that, as writers, we are overlooked when it comes to being paid for our hard work. Our talent is often seen as a free commodity in India—not so in the US and other countries.

I do not have the funds to create attractively illustrated comic books. The irony is that my mind is a factory of ideas. Just give me the funds, an illustrator, and a free hand, and I will create magic!

Competing Interests

The authors have no competing interests to declare.