The author shares memories of her childhood spent at 54 Mountain Rise Road in Silverglen, where her family lived for thirty-five years. In the 1980s, she grew up in Chatsworth in a typical middle-class family of that era, with her mother being a homemaker and her father a school principal.
Understanding what it meant to be a woman was shaped by the women around her—her mother, aunts, and community women. Their lives seemed to revolve around the roles of wife, mother, and caregiver. The author's mother gave so much to herself and others, loved deeply, and served selflessly, but this came at a high cost; she passed away at the age of 54. The author often reflects on her mother's unfulfilled dreams.
After graduating from university in 2001 and getting married in 2004, the author's life naturally focused on family. Although she acknowledges that the roles of wife and mother are among the most important and significant, over time, she began to realize that these were not the only roles designated for her.
Finding the Girl Behind the Roles
In her early forties, she felt a disquiet—not just simple excitement, but a deeper feeling. She began to question her identity outside of familiar roles. The question arose: who is she if not Mrs. Bagaria or the mother of Shay and Luna? At that moment, she remembered herself as a little girl from Chatsworth who dreamed about her own life.
She recalled her love for reading, her dreams of writing and publishing stories, and her inclination towards an active lifestyle, enjoying nature, camping, and seeking adventure. She realized that these desires had not disappeared but were simply buried under the duties, expectations, and social roles imposed upon her by life.
Thus, in her forties, she began returning to what made her, to forgotten dreams, to that little girl at 54 Mountain Rise Road who dreamed without knowing where life would take her. This marked the beginning of her true journey.
She started hiking in the Drakensberg Mountains. She enjoyed the peace and silence, the slow rhythm of nature, meeting new people, the ability to disconnect from technology, and, of course, physical exercise. Traversing the steep, uneven terrain with a heavy backpack, confronting cold weather, and foregoing domestic comfort should have been frightening, but instead, they brought her exhilaration.
The mountains drew her to a place she could call her own. Then Kilimanjaro called her—Africa's highest peak and the world's highest free-standing mountain. She trained intensely, studied the experiences of others, and prepared as best she could.
The ascent day lasted 15 hours, and she was amazed by her strength. She was immensely grateful to have reached the summit without experiencing altitude sickness. Standing there, she realized something inside her had changed—she was consumed by the experience.
Subsequently, she conquered Africa's second-highest mountain—Mount Kenya. And in 2024, she attempted to climb Mount Elbrus, the highest snowy mountain in Europe. During the morning ascent, they faced winds reaching blizzard force, up to 60 km/h. After five hours battling harsh conditions, they turned back at approximately 5300 meters, just a few hundred meters from the summit.
She was exhausted, feeling disappointment and despondency. However, beneath this disappointment lay a quiet resolve: she would return.
In 2025, she took a break from mountains, but not from adventure. With two friends, she decided to hike 100 kilometers across the harsh Namib Desert, camping for five days. Trekking through steep dunes under the scorching sun with a backpack is comparable to an endless stepper track. Nevertheless, the difficulties were worth it; the landscape was a visual feast. There is something profoundly humbling about standing in a place where the desert stretches endlessly to the ocean.
Namibia makes one feel simultaneously incredibly small and completely alive. Then, in 2026, she returned to Russia. This time, they were fortunate to encounter ideal conditions: not a single gust of wind, clear skies, frosty air at minus 12 degrees Celsius.
After about five hours of climbing, she reached the summit with her wonderful guide. The feeling was surreal. The sun shone brilliantly. The snow-covered slopes glittered like silk. And before her eyes unfolded the magnificent Caucasus mountain range.
She did it—the highest point in Europe. But the summit meant much more than just standing atop a mountain. It was a return to something she had once been forced to give up. It was a return to what once conquered her. And it was the discovery that sometimes the greatest victory is simply refusing to give up on yourself.
Adventures
After every adventure, she immediately begins planning the next one. It is almost like a drug that never satisfies. She loves the freedom that the mountains provide. She loves traveling to new places and meeting different people. She loves challenging herself physically and mentally. She loves discovering what she is capable of when comfort is removed, and only determination remains.
But most of all, every journey changes her. She returns renewed, energized, and full of strength—ready to meet life's demands and inspire others. She returns full of hope and joy, knowing that her cup is full, and now she has something to give to her family, friends, and those around her.
Perhaps this is the biggest lesson the mountains taught her. We cannot constantly pour from an empty cup. And we cannot spend our whole lives being everything for everyone else, slowly losing ourselves in the process.
The author likes to think of a woman as a diamond. A diamond is not defined by a single facet. Its brilliance arises from how all facets combine to create something multidimensional, complex, and beautiful. So are we—mothers, wives, daughters, sisters, and caregivers. But we are also dreamers, adventurers, creators, leaders, writers, athletes, and much more. We are not the labels society puts on us. We are all the facets that make us who we are. But discovering these facets requires courage. It requires daring to be different. Daring to change. Daring to step outside the boundaries of ordinary life and ask oneself: what else is possible for me?
Change is not just important. It is essential. We must change, develop, and grow, otherwise, we risk remaining alive only in a biological sense while something inside us slowly dies. Her mother passed away at 54. For years, she wondered about everything her mother might have wanted to do but never got the chance.
Today, when she thinks of the number 54, she chooses to look at it differently. She refuses to see it as an end. She sees it as a reminder that life is precious, time is not guaranteed, and one cannot wait for tomorrow to become the person one ought to be. And perhaps that little girl at 54 Mountain Rise Road was never lost. She was just waiting for me to come back for her.
Today, she carries her with her—to the mountains, across deserts, to new places, and toward new dreams. And she finally understood what she knew all along: life was never meant to be lived on the sidelines. We are here to conquer. To fall. To rise. To change. To grow. To dream again. And above all, to truly live.
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