On the 8th of April, 2012, my grandson was born in a private nursing home. However, the joy of his arrival was quickly tempered by a complication; he struggled with his first breaths, a crisis that required an immediate transfer to the G.B. Pant Children’s Hospital in Batwara, Srinagar—a facility nestled within the army cantonment.
The hospital was a sanctuary of excellence, yet the neonatal ward was so jampacked that two fragile newborns often had to share a single cradle. As we took turns as attendants, I observed the rhythmic pulse of the hospital—until one morning, the quiet was shattered by a frantic commotion. Two infants, born only a day prior, had been secretly discarded in a roadside garbage bin just outside the hospital gates. They were recovered by the police and brought back inside—glowing, tiny neonatals shivering from the cold and the indignity of the dirt.
While the medical staff and young mothers in the ward provided immediate warmth and care, I witnessed a poignant scene in the Superintendent’s office. A foreign lady, accompanied by several men, was pleading with the hospital authorities. She was part of a missionary group working in Kashmir, asking to take custody of the abandoned babies. However, the administration remained firm: no child could be handed over without strict legal formalities.
This encounter highlights a global struggle. In Europe, abandonment has shifted toward “social orphans”—children left due to extreme poverty. To prevent the horror of a “dustbin” discovery, countries like Germany, Poland, and Switzerland have established “Baby Boxes”—heated, alarmed hatches in hospital walls where a mother can anonymously and safely leave a newborn.
In India, the scale of this tragedy is immense. Official data from the Central Adoption Resource Authority (CARA) indicates that thousands of children are declared “legally free” for adoption each year, yet many more remain in the shadows. National estimates suggest that tens of thousands of children are abandoned annually across the country, often in unsafe conditions. We must ask: why should we not have a proper “Baby Bank” system in our hospitals? A safe, anonymous, and legally protected framework would ensure that no child is ever left to shiver in a bin again.
The path to adoption for these two infants was not swift, but it was successful. Two volunteer couples navigated months of legal procedures to grant them a home. At the time, I had requested their contact details, and this past April, while wishing my grandson Raed a happy birthday, I felt compelled to dial their number.
What I learned was a miracle of destiny. Both babies—born to different mothers and discarded by different hands—were adopted by the same wonderful family. Now named Haroon and Noor, they are vibrant 10th-grade students, growing up as brother and sister.
Fourteen years have passed, and as I plan to visit them soon, I am reminded that while a child may be abandoned by one heart, they can be claimed and cherished by another. It is time our government formalizes this path of mercy, ensuring that every “innocent” finds a cradle, not a dustbin.
The author is a former civil servant from the administrative service.
Email: nisargilani57748@gmail.com
