A Childhood Interrupted by Cancer

Ramzan is usually a peaceful and hopeful time for our family. In the evenings, when the azaan is heard and families sit together for iftar, there is a feeling of gratitude in the air. This year, as I sit beside my five-year-old son Tauhid in the hospital, my prayers have become very simple — I just ask for his health.

Tauhid is only 5 years old, but he speaks like he is much older. When he feels a little better, he lines up his toy cars on the floor and says very seriously, “Police checking.” He wants to become a police officer because he believes they are brave and help people. Sometimes he draws random shapes and brings them to me proudly. I always tell him they are beautiful, and he smiles as if he has won a big prize.

A few months ago, doctors told us that Tauhid has Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. I still remember the moment clearly. The doctor said the treatment must begin immediately. Since that day, our lives have been filled with hospital visits, investigations, PET-CT scans, blood tests, chemotherapy sessions, targeted therapy, physiotherapy reviews, dietician checkups, and supportive care. Hospital beds and medicine schedules have replaced our normal routine.

Tauhid does not fully understand his illness. He only knows that he is sick and that doctors keep giving him injections. Once he looked at me and asked, “Papa, why do they keep putting needles in me?” Another day, he quietly asked, “Did I do something wrong?” As a father, there is no harder moment than hearing that question.

Before his illness, he was always running, asking questions, and playing with friends. Now he gets tired very quickly. During chemotherapy, he tries not to cry too much. He tells me softly, “Papa will feel sad.” Even in pain, he worries about me. That is the kind of child he is — curious, innocent, and brave.

We have used all our savings for his treatment. I have borrowed money from friends and relatives. I cannot work regularly because I need to stay with him at the hospital. We have reduced our daily expenses and sometimes skipped proper meals to manage the costs. People support us with prayers and kind words, but everyone has their own limitations.

The doctors have clearly said his treatment must continue without delay. The total cost of his complete treatment is ₹8,35,000. It includes investigations, PET-CT scans, chemotherapy, targeted therapy, physiotherapy, dietician reviews, and supportive care. If the treatment stops, the cancer can spread and his recovery chances may reduce.

In the evenings of Ramzan, when I raise my hands in prayer, I imagine a simple future. Tauhid going back to school. Tauhid running freely in a park. Tauhid wearing a small uniform one day and proudly saying he is a police officer.

For me, hope is not something big. It is just the wish to see my son healthy again. I believe that in this blessed month, kindness and compassion can bring light into our lives — and give my little boy the chance to smile, play, and dream once more.