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I come from a small village in Kashmir, where my life was once simple and joyful. My father is a farmer, and though we all lived simply, our home was always filled with laughter. I loved school and playing games with my siblings, loved helping my mother cook and clean… we used to sing together while we worked. My life was just beginning, and then everything changed one year ago.
One day, I noticed my skin turning yellow, and my body felt weak and tired. My parents took me to the doctor, and after test after test, we finally discovered the terrible news: my liver was failing. The doctors said I needed a transplant urgently and that without it, I wouldn’t survive. Now... there’s just two weeks left to make it happen.
I’m in pain every day
The doctors say that my liver is damaged beyond repair. My stomach swells with fluid so much that it feels tight and hurts. Walking even a short distance makes me gasp for air and leaves me so tired that I can’t move. My body itches constantly, and my head throbs with pain. It feels as if my body is breaking down piece by piece. Sometimes, all I can do is lie there and hope for the pain to pass.
Every day, I see my parents struggle. I hear my mother whisper on the phone while talking to my father, when she thinks I’m asleep. They’re both so afraid—afraid of what might happen if we don’t get help. We need tens of lakhs for the surgery, and my father, who works so hard just to make ends meet, can’t possibly gather such an amount. The fear of what will happen if we don’t get the funds… it’s too much. I try to stay hopeful, but it’s so hard to do so.
My mother didn’t think twice before volunteering to donate part of her liver to save me
She has become my greatest source of comfort and strength. She tells me every day that she’s not afraid to give me a part of herself, that she would do anything to see me smile again. I see the sacrifices she’s made, all the things she’s given up and sold—whatever jewelry she had, the sheep and goats we once had, and the land that was our little piece of home. It’s all gone now, and we’re left with so little.
She skips meals so that I can eat, as did my father, even though I tell her not to. When she comes back after a day of begging for help from friends and strangers, she looks so tired. There were days when her shoes were torn, but she kept going barefoot, walking to find someone, anyone, who could help us. At night, she stays awake, watching me with eyes full of worry, too scared to close them in case something happens to me. She tells me she’s terrified that she might wake and find that I passed away while she was asleep.
I want the happiness that this illness has taken away from us to come back again
I miss the simple things, like eating my mother’s home-cooked meals and lying under the open sky, dreaming about the future. I think about what it would be like to get better, to go back home and run with my sisters, to sit beside my father as he tells us stories, and to see my mother smile without worry. I dream of waking up to the cool breeze of Kashmir while feeling the warmth of home, instead of the cold walls of the hospital.
Please, if you can, help us and save me. Any small contribution means so much. Your kindness could be the miracle that saves my life and gives my family a chance to dream again.
Click here to donate.
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