This blog was really inspired because of the unfair death of my cousin, a 17-year-old boy who for his entire life has fought a war with thalassemia. His illness was discovered when he was only a kid, an innocent age of 2. Since then, he and his mom have gone from hospital to hospital, prayed, bowed and grovelled themselves before God to hope for a miracle.
The way I am related to him is a long chain. And most of you out there who are Pakistani’s would understand that this is just how we work as families. My maternal grandfather’s brother got his son married to his wife’s sister’s (who was also his cousin as well) daughter. Now that brother’s own one daughter is given away at this aunts house. Yes i know it can be complicated.
Anyways, after the kid was born, the grandfather or the mother of the groom were monsters, they beated her up, cursed her and treated her in the most inhumane manner. But bless the Pakistani wife of 20 years ago, she kept quite and beared all of this as her kismet, maybe, i don’t know what went through her head.
They never once spent a dime on that kid after he was born, although there were pretty well off, but the way this grandfather’s bro thought was that this would be a bad investment, and thus on his own grandson, he never spend a single dime. But fate was not yet in the mood to be ironic. And the kid grew slowly and steadily, with the support of that Godly women, that was his mother, and although his blood needed to be changed every 15 days, they didnt let go of hope. And it was a result of this hope that the kid got 17 and then got the highest ranks in the matric board and got scholarships to the best collages. Continue reading