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My name is Saroja, and my husband Jithender worked as an electrical linesman. One Sunday morning, he told me he had a small repair to attend to, nothing dangerous. I begged him to stay home because it was Sunday, but he smiled and said he would return by noon. A few hours later, I received a call saying he had suffered a current shock. They told me it was a minor accident. When I reached the hospital, they refused to let me see him at first. Then the doctors looked into my eyes and said his hands had to be removed or he would not survive. I collapsed in tears. Those were the very hands that had always fed our family.
They took me into a counselling room and kept asking for my signature
I cried and begged the doctors to save him without amputation, but they showed me the scans. The blood circulation had stopped completely. I had no choice but to sign those papers. At 3 o’clock that day they took him into surgery, and later they showed me a photograph of his burnt and severed hands. I will never forget that moment. For forty-five days he lay in a hospital bed, going through nine surgeries, seizures, skin grafting and endless pain. He would look for me, but most of the time I was not allowed near him. I still remember standing outside, weak with hunger and fear, praying he would open his eyes again.
Since then, every day has been a fight for survival
I wake up by 4:30 in the morning, bathe him, feed him, clean his wounds, and then get our three children ready for school. Only after finishing all this do I run to whatever small job I can find: working as an attender, cleaning, anything that will give me a few hundred rupees. When I am outside, I am terrified. My husband cannot even hold a phone to call me if something happens. Even on birthdays we could not give our children simple gifts. I still remember my daughter’s birthday when we could not buy her a dress. She cried quietly, asking why her father was like this now. I could only bring her a few chocolates and tell her to be strong.
Too many times, my husband has begged me to let him go
One day, he asked, “Why are you carrying this burden? Put poison in my food and end my suffering.” I shivered hearing those words. I told him, “If you leave us, what will happen to your children? Who will guide them?” Our children cry every time they see him. They remember how he once played with them, brought them fruits, and took them to the park. Now they see him lying helpless, unable to move, and it breaks their hearts. Still, they show their love in small ways — bringing him water in the middle of the night, sleeping beside him to give him comfort. Without them, I don’t think I could continue standing.
I cannot do this alone anymore
We have already spent more than twenty-five lakhs, all borrowed through loans. Our debts are crushing us, and we have nothing left. Doctors say prosthetic arms can help him live with dignity again. Without them, he may never live even a partly normal life. I am begging you with folded hands... Please help me give my husband another chance at life, please help me bring back hope for our children. I have nothing left to offer except my prayers and gratitude, but with your support, maybe we can see light again in our home.
