In a narrow lane of Akhbar Nagar in Vadaj, Ahmedabad stood an old, crumbling house—its fading walls silently narrating stories of hardship. One evening in 2009, Dr. Jay Sheth and his postgraduate student, Dr. Nishith, stepped into this modest dwelling.
“Namaste, Ba (Dadi)… may we come in?” Dr. Jay asked gently.
“You…?” the elderly woman responded, surprised.
“We are doctors from VS Hospital. We’ve come to ask a few questions regarding your daughter-in-law’s death due to swine flu.”
The old woman welcomed them in and spread a worn-out quilt over a broken cot, offering them a place to sit.
That year, the H1N1 swine flu had gripped Gujarat—and much of the country—in fear. Lives were being lost rapidly. The responsibility of conducting verbal autopsies—systematic interviews after death to understand causes and prevent further mortality—had fallen upon the Department of Community Medicine.
Dr. Nishith began asking questions. The woman’s daughter-in-law had passed away just days ago, leaving behind two young daughters—a six-month-old infant cradled in Ba’s arms, being fed with a bottle, and a three-year-old child playing nearby.
As Ba answered their questions, tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.
When asked about the care of the children, she spoke in a trembling voice,
“Now, I am their mother. But please, doctor… don’t say anything to the elder one. She keeps asking me all day— ‘When will my mother come back?’ We haven’t told her anything. She believes her mother is still in the hospital and will return soon…”
Just then, the little girl ran up to her grandmother.
“Ba, who are they?” she asked innocently.
“They are doctors from your mother’s hospital,” Ba replied, masking her grief.
The child’s eyes lit up with hope.
“Ba… my mother will come home soon, right? She had promised to bring me a doll… She will bring it, won’t she? Then we will both play with the doll… Mummy will bathe me, and I will bathe my doll… Mummy will feed me, and I will feed my doll…”
Her words continued, but Dr. Nishith could no longer hear them. His mind fell silent. He was lost in the depth of her innocent faith—her questions echoing in a void where no answers existed.
After completing the interview, Dr. Jay stood up. As Dr. Nishith rose, he quietly placed a ₹500 note in front of Ba.
With quiet dignity, she refused,
“Son, we are people who earn through hard work. We do not take money without earning it.”
Nishith felt a deep respect for her self-respect. He instead brought some fruits from his car and handed them to the child.
As she accepted them, the little girl said softly,
“Take my doll… and please send my mother back soon. Tell her that her dear one misses her very much.”
The drive back was heavy. For a long time, the child’s face and her unanswered questions lingered in Dr. Nishith’s mind.
Years passed.
In 2020, another invisible monster rose—COVID-19.
One morning, now an Associate Professor at GMERS Medical College, Vadnagar, Dr. Nishith received a call from the Taluka Health Officer.
“Doctor, a woman in Rajpur has died due to COVID. You need to conduct a verbal autopsy.”
Nishith inquired about the family. He learned she had left behind a three-year-old daughter.
For a moment, time stood still. The memories from 2009 resurfaced vividly.
He started his car… then suddenly paused.
He switched off the engine and walked back to his quarters. Entering his four-year-old daughter’s room, he picked up something carefully… returned to his car… and drove off.
What he carried with him was—
a doll… for a little girl who had just lost her mother.
