"I Sleep On Temple Floors, Keep Praying To Bhole Nath... I Need My Son To Survive!"

Nowadays, I wake up to temple bells instead of an alarm. I sweep the stone floor where we sleep, offer my folded hands to Bhole Nath, and whisper the same prayer I’ve whispered for months: “Please don’t take him from me.” I never thought I’d watch my son forget how to walk before he turned seven. Never imagined I’d be counting coins to buy medicine while he lies in pain. But this is where life has brought us. From our small village to the corridors of a hospital 400 kilometres away, I have carried my only child in my arms, holding on to hope. His cancer is aggressive, the doctors say. Treatment must begin without delay. But I am a labourer, and yet, somehow, I have to raise lakhs to save him.

Then came the weakness. The crying. The weight loss. He stopped going to school. He stopped playing. Soon, he couldn’t walk without help and we didn’t know what was happening. First, we thought it was typhoid, and then someone said it could be a blood issue. We went from one doctor to another in our village but nothing worked. Eventually, we travelled to Jalandhar to look for work and get better treatment. That’s where things got worse. His pain increased, he began crying and shouting constantly. That’s when a doctor finally said the word 'tumour'. I felt the ground slip from under me. We had no savings, but I took him to Lucknow. Ten days in the hospital there, and they confirmed it: he had cancer. From there we went from hospital to hospital until we ended up here.

Our land, our cattle, even my wife’s jewellery, it's all gone. We borrowed whatever we could. Just to get here, just to get him admitted. He’s already had surgery, but now the doctors say a transplant is his only chance. Without it, his condition will worsen and time is slipping. But how do I afford a transplant when I don’t even have enough to buy my boy a full meal? I’ve run from one end of the country to another, carrying him, begging strangers for help, watching him cry in pain while I couldn’t even afford painkillers. I’ve done everything a father could. Now, there’s nothing left to sell, nothing left I can do.

It's just minutes away from the hospital. We have no roof of our own anymore, no kitchen, no belongings. We survive on whatever prasad is offered. There are nights when we eat just that and nothing else. I spend my days sitting on the temple steps, looking up at Bhole Nath, asking Him why my child has to suffer like this. But I haven’t given up. Not yet. Every day, I stand outside the hospital gates and try to speak to anyone who might listen. I ask for help with folded hands. I ask because I have no choice. My son needs this transplant to live and I will not let him slip away just because I am poor.

We just want to save our child. He’s not even seven. He doesn’t understand what cancer is. He just asks me, “Papa, why can’t I run anymore?” I don’t know what to say. The doctors have given us a chance but we can’t afford to take it. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I’m asking you, asking strangers, to help us. If you can spare anything at all, please help me get him the transplant he needs. I’ve lost everything else already. I cannot lose my son.