Stitching had never been easy for me, especially with the challenge of my leg. But as a mother, pain meant little compared to my child’s well-being.
I contracted polio as a child, losing the use of my left leg. Yet, my father never let my disability define me. He encouraged me to learn stitching, believing it would give me independence and dignity. Soon, stitching became more than a pastime; it was my way of connecting with others and feeling valued.
After marriage and three Caesarean deliveries, my body weakened. Sitting long hours at the sewing machine became unbearable. Reluctantly, I put aside stitching and joined my husband in painting work. It was physically demanding, but at least I could support my family.
Life turned upside down when my youngest son, Murari, fell severely ill as an infant. Frequent fevers and unexplained weakness confused doctors. We visited numerous hospitals without answers.
One day, Murari began bleeding from his eye. Borrowing money from relatives, we rushed him to Hyderabad. After extensive testing, doctors diagnosed him with thalassemia. I was devastated, but I had no time for despair. Murari needed regular blood transfusions, and we struggled with mounting medical bills.
My husband worked tirelessly, but his earnings were irregular. My parents helped with my daughters’ schooling, yet household expenses piled up. I knew I had to earn again. Though holding a Master’s degree in Telugu, taking up a full-time job meant leaving Murari alone, something I could never do. So, despite the excruciating pain, I returned to stitching.
Each blouse earned me Rs 200-250. My leg would ache after just minutes, but I persisted because every rupee mattered.
Two years ago, hope appeared. Doctors in Bangalore recommended a bone marrow transplant. Our younger daughter was a perfect match. We sold our land and home, took out loans, and by God’s grace, the surgery succeeded. Murari recovered, and the joy of seeing him healthy gave us strength to face the heavy debts.
Still stitching through the pain, I continued earning modestly. It was helpful, yet insufficient. Then, at a community gathering, I found Dr. Reddy’s Foundation. I received money and I bought a modern sewing machine that significantly eased the strain on my leg. I could stitch faster, making three to four blouses daily and doubling my earnings to Rs. 500-600.
Today, we have repaid much of our debt and manage our household comfortably, even saving a little each month. My next goal is to purchase a Pico machine to earn even better.
Every morning, as I watch Murari happily head off to school with his sister, my heart swells with gratitude to the (Dr.) Reddy’s Foundation. Now in 8th grade, he dreams of helping other children with thalassemia, inspired by those who helped him. Hearing his aspirations fills me with immense pride. My journey has taught me that true strength means moving forward despite problems, driven by love and resilience.
