Thalassemia

CHAPTER ONE

Mother at a very young age

The sun had finally risen. Aryan and I had been crying the whole night. It wasn’t easy, crying over the loss of my daughter; so young. It was painful, it was like pain coming from a body part that wasn’t even there or like my finger getting severed from my hand. It was the ultimate tragedy. Nothing could be more devastating. After all, a mother is a daughter’s best friend, but in this case, she was my best friend. Healing can’t be termed as a timetable, and if you are reading this, it’s likely that your heart has been affected by losing your child or have been mourning over your child’s loss.

A parent can never imagine their child’s death. My husband and I had to discover the imagination, we had never dreamed of having, and believe me; it’s the hardest thing you can ever do. The world is actually a very cruel place. In the years following my daughter’s death, I discovered the actual reality the world belonged to. No matter how great my loss was, or no matter how deep my wound was, no one stopped to care. That saddened me more ;that no one cared.

I would often stop enjoying at a party, and would think about the memories I shared with my daughter and would end up crying; instantly, remembering the cheerful memories we had together. Time was when I couldn’t let my emotions rest and ended up crying at one of my colleague’s birthday party. She came to me later, with a book and told me one of the most important things which actually made up the foundation of my book. She came to me and told me to express myself by writing. I remembered myself distinctly thinking… How could I ever be happy again? My pain was clearly visible to the people around me. I was a distraught woman who was constantly screaming for help, but towards deaf ears.

Starting the journey when God blessed me with a wonderful husband, Aryan. I was forcefully married at the age of 18, to a person I had never met. He came over to India, to get his elder brother’s marriage fixed to my sister, but ironically it turned out that; he ended up getting married. My step-father was a cruel person who never really cared about my wellbeing. With daily imprisonments, I never really stepped out of the house. After I got married, I experienced things that I never would have expected. Aryan treated me like a queen in the house. I could never adjust to such surroundings due to the continuous cruelty and painful suffering that happened to me.

Aryan, my husband, is a man with pure instincts that belong to a gentleman. He helped me adjust to a country which I had never heard of. Moving from India to Tanzania was an experience that I would love to encounter again. When I got to Tanzania, it looked like a paradise made by God’s hands himself. The city’s name was Dar-Es-Salaam, which I found quite interesting. Aryan was the third-born in his family and he was the backbone to his family. His elder brothers passed away at the age of 22 and 24 respectively due to a tragic disease called Thalassemia, which I would be talking about in the later pages of this book. Aryan had minor Thalassemia as well as I, but none of us knew about it until we got married and had our first child.

I was 19 when I first gave birth to a child. We got to know earlier that it would be a girl. I was very happy that I would get a daughter to be with. Aryan had bought a bigger house due to the fact that our happy little family was growing and really needed space for the amount of happiness this little daughter was getting us. She was two days old when I first took her in my hands. She was the size of the stuffed toy that I bought her in the village fair the earlier week. I named her Avisha, that meant: Gift of God.

Happiness was soon to come, but with a price.

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