It was 2014.

I was in the car with my husband, mid-conversation, when suddenly I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. My chest tightened, my body started shutting down — and all I remember was the panic in his eyes as he rushed me to the hospital.

The next morning, after a round of scans and blood tests, the doctor walked in with two nurses behind him, holding a report.

 “It’s nothing. I’m fine. Im fine It’s nothing” 

Then he said it.

“So… my suspicion was right. You have a tumour.”

Silence.

I really wish I had paid more attention in biology class, because I had no idea what that meant beyond: my life was about to change forever.

The diagnosis? A brain tumour.

The treatment? Emergency surgery.

The reality? My world turned upside down.

Recovery was long. 

Messy. Traumatic. ICU stays. Constant seizures. A daily bag of meds so big you’d think I was supplying a pharmacy.

And then, as if all of that wasn’t enough… the hair started falling out. Not the usual few strands in the shower kind. Clumps! Patches! 

I did what anyone in panic mode would do. I Googled: “How to grow hair fast.”

I tried everything.Oils. Shampoos. Serums that promised miracles. None of them worked.

When I asked my surgeon, he said, “Avoid chemicals. Your body’s been through enough. Go fully natural.”

Easier said than done. 

Have you seen those ingredient lists? Some of those “natural” products smelled like a chemical plant exploded in a lavender field.

Eventually, I decided to surrender…I shaved my head! Not because I was giving up, but because I needed a clean slate. I couldn’t keep looking in the mirror and not recognising the woman staring back.

One evening, while I was either nagging my husband (can’t remember what he did! husbands, right?)  “Do you want to try my father’s old oil recipe? He used to make it by hand. I think I can recreate it.” he said.

I laughed. 

Not because I didn’t believe him, but because I’d tried everything short of rubbing garlic on my scalp. (Don’t worry, I stopped myself.) But I said yes. Not out of belief. Out of hope!

A few weeks later, he handed me a little glass bottle. It wasn’t fancy. No gold foil. No big promises. Just a deep, earthy scent. Strong. Rooted in Indian herbs. Dark gold liquid. It felt like something made with love, not mass production.

I used it like a ritual. Just me, my mirror. Every few days, massaging it into my scalp

And then, two weeks in… baby hairs. Soft fuzz. Little signs of life in places I thought were gone for good.

I cried.

Not because I looked different. But because for the first time in months… I felt like me again.

Let me tell you something honestly: Losing your hair can feel like losing yourself. I was so insecure I didn’t want to leave the house. I remember going to the temple and catching people staring. They probably thought I’d been in a fight. I don’t blame them. I had a 15cm ++ scar on the back of my head that made me look like a Tamil movie gangster.

Soon, people around us noticed. My husband’s students’ parents. Neighbours. Friends of friends. They started asking for bottles. They called it “Miracle oil.” “Golden oil.” They said their scalp felt clean again. Their hair, softer. Their baby were growing. Their hair fall reduced! 

That’s when I knew: This wasn’t just for me.

In 2019, we decided to share it with the world. We named it after the man who started it all (my late father in law) — Gunasena.

We called it: SENA.

Today, SENA has grown from one oil… into a full ritual. Shampoo. Conditioner. Tonic. Each product made with the same heart: Clean, Safe, Effective!

Because we know it’s not just women like me who need this. It’s Mamas. Daughters. Fathers. Grandfathers. Husbands. Children. Everyone in the family.

And then we decided to improve our formulas! In today’s fast-paced life, we all want easy, effective solutions that fit into our real routines.That’s why we use safe, science-backed ingredients. No harsh chemicals. No shady additives. No fear-mongering. Just formulas that are tested, trusted, and created with you in mind. 

Rooted in tradition. Backed by science.