After Losing Brothers to Cancer, 2 Bay Area Teens Fought to Change California Law

On July 4, 2022, Rayaan Kolte hoisted a lemonade pitcher onto a wobbly green folding table in front of his house in Pleasanton. He taped up a handwritten sign that read in rainbow paint, “Drink to support childhood cancer — $1 a cup.” The tang of citrus hung in the air, mingling with the sweetness of peaches piled in a metal basket from the family’s tree — free for anyone willing to stop and learn about the rare brain cancer that stole his little brother the year before.

“I miss him every day,” Rayaan told strolling neighbors. “He was my best friend.”

By the time dusk fell and fireworks cracked in the distance, the jar on the table brimmed with crumpled bills and coins, and more poured in through Venmo. Rayaan counted out about $400, money he used to purchase gifts for siblings of kids with cancer. He was determined that no other brothers and sisters felt overlooked.

“My life was difficult after the diagnosis,” the 13-year-old said softly at his home earlier this month. “My parents were focusing all their attention on my brother, so I felt like I wasn’t heard or seen, and I didn’t get much attention.

Not long after, he met Sahil Mehta, a South Bay teen who had also lost his brother to the same brain cancer. Their parents began talking about launching a foundation, and the boys’ paths kept crossing — at each other’s homes, on ski trips, at fundraising events. Over time, their friendship deepened, rooted in the kind of loss few others their age could understand.

A sidewalk lemonade stand was just the beginning. Before long, the friends teamed up on toy drives. Then, last winter, they persuaded Assemblymember Alex Lee of Fremont to sponsor AB 703 to create a new checkbox on California tax forms that allows residents to send money directly to childhood cancer research. The measure sailed through the Legislature this summer.

“The stories of Sahil and Rayaan highlight the power of our young leaders in driving real and meaningful change,” Lee told KQED in a statement. “AB 703 is a testament to their commitment of bringing hope to all those impacted by childhood cancer.”

Standing in for Santa

Rayaan was just starting third grade when doctors told his family that his little brother, Neev, had a rare brain cancer called diffuse intrinsic pontine glioma, or DIPG. While their parents agonized over treatments, the boys built Minecraft worlds side by side, chased each other through the yard, and curled up to binge Pokémon cartoons. Even when the tumor in the 4-year-old’s brainstem buckled his legs and slurred his speech, Neev still insisted on playing with his big brother.

“Neev loved his brother,” their mom, Misha Mehta, said. “We would always joke that they only had one brain. Neev would just follow Rayaan everywhere.”

By the winter holidays, Neev was tethered to an IV pole in the hospital, where pandemic-era rules prevented more than one visitor at a time. On Christmas Eve, Rayaan waved to his little brother from the cold parking lot. Inside, Neev whispered through tears to his mom that he was afraid Santa wouldn’t be able to find him in the maze of hallways and machines. His mom could hardly get the words out as she cried, but she managed to explain that she had directed Santa to the hospital with a letter.

Over the course of his treatment, Neev endured three brain surgeries, 15 MRIs, and countless needle pokes — his tiny arms covered in needle marks. He died on Nov. 30, 2021.

“That was hard and scary,” Rayaan said. “I couldn’t imagine living without him for some time.”

By the summer of fifth grade, Rayaan resolved to do something. That summer, he launched the lemonade stand, and that fall, he lobbied his teacher to run a toy drive for kids stuck in the hospital over Christmas. His father expected a handful of donations. Instead, hundreds of toys flooded the classroom, spilling into the hall. The family had to call for extra cars to haul the boxes to the oncology floor at UCSF Benioff Children’s Hospital, where Neev had been treated.

“What began as the tender empathy of a big brother has become an annual community tradition,” Mehta said. “A reminder that even in the face of devastating loss, compassion can ripple outward. Each toy delivered to a child in the hospital carries with it a message that they are seen, remembered and loved.”

Over the past four years, with help from classmates and friends, Rayaan has donated more than a thousand toys.

Carrying Ronil’s spirit

Sahil Mehta was in second grade when his big brother Ronil suddenly collapsed at their Fremont home in early January 2016 and slipped into a coma. Until then, Ronil was seemingly a healthy 12-year-old. But in the hospital, doctors delivered a shocking prognosis: He had DIPG. He had less than a week to live and urged the family to take him off life support.

“My brain refused to listen,” said their mom, Manisha Mehta (no relation to Rayaan’s mom Misha Mehta). “The night before, he had gone to a Boy Scout meeting, and we had played ‘Game of Life.’ What an irony. Life certainly turned upside down for us.”

Miraculously, four days later, Ronil opened his eyes. He fought to hold onto life for 31 months — through strokes, radiation, surgeries, even experimental treatments in Mexico. When the doctors exhausted all options, Ronil’s family stopped treatment and brought him home. He died on Sept. 1, 2018, in the same room where the brothers once built Lego castles and laughed under blanket forts. His last wish was to donate his tumor to Stanford for research, so that other children might have the chance he never did.

For years afterward, the family ached in silence. Sahil was just 10 years old, unsure what to do with his grief. But by the time he entered Irvington High School in Fremont, he had begun putting his emotions to work. He started a club at school called the “Childhood Cancer Crusaders,” and before long, 50 members were showing up to raise awareness.

“Ronil’s spirit of giving is really what inspired me to take action,” Sahil said.

Teaming up for change

This past Christmas, Sahil organized a holiday toy drive, taking a cue from Rayaan’s earlier effort. Together, they collected boxes of dolls, puzzles, and board games for kids in the hospital.

In the spring, Sahil’s school club hosted a Relay for Life — a walkathon where students lit candles, played music, and circled the track, raising thousands of dollars for cancer research.

He didn’t stop there — for an Eagle Scout project, he assembled care kits stuffed with books and games, small comforts to ease the endless hours families spend at Stanford Hospital. His dedication drew national recognition when he was named a Gold Ambassador, one of just a handful of teens selected by the American Cancer Society to press lawmakers for more pediatric research funding.

Still, the boys wanted to expand their efforts. After attending Curefest, an advocacy event in Washington, D.C., Sahil came home restless. Why wasn’t California doing more? Digging around online, he discovered a voluntary contribution fund — a simple checkbox on tax forms that lets residents direct money to specific causes. Breast cancer had one.

Alzheimer’s had one. In states like Maine, Missouri, and New Jersey, pediatric cancer even had one. But in California? Nowhere on the list.

He built a presentation, scheduled a meeting with Assemblymember Lee and pitched the idea. Within a couple of months, Lee’s office drafted AB 703.

When it came time to testify, Sahil invited Rayaan to join him. Side by side, the two boys told lawmakers about the death of their brothers. Sahil explained in a measured voice that less than 8% of federal cancer research dollars go to children, and California earmarked none.

“These children are not numbers,” he told the lawmakers. “They are sons. They are daughters. They are brothers and sisters whose lives are being left behind without a chance to grow up.”

Gov. Gavin Newsom signed AB 703 in July. Beginning next year, a checkbox will appear on California tax forms.

“I never thought I could influence policy,” Sahil said. “But it shows that even if you’re a kid or a teenager, there are ways to make an impact.”