Every morning, Ramratan sits quietly on a broken wooden stool outside his shanty, watching the world pass him by—forgotten by his family, unseen by his neighbors, and haunted by memories of a life once full of purpose.
At 65, Ramratan’s body is tired, but it’s the loneliness that aches the most. The silence in his home is deafening—broken only by the sound of his labored breathing. Once the pillar of his family, he now feels like a burden in the very house he built with love and sacrifice.
Born in a small village in Uttar Pradesh, Ramratan grew up amid deep poverty. His father was a farmer, and schooling was never an option. As a child, he worked in the fields, learning the harsh realities of life before he learned how to dream. He carried more weight than most adults at a young age—not just sacks of grain, but the weight of responsibility for his family.
In his thirties, determined to change his destiny, Ramratan moved to Kusumpur Pahari, a sprawling slum in South Delhi. There, he took up gardening work—digging, planting, and watering, even when his hands cracked from the cold or bled from the soil. He worked endlessly to provide for his wife and two sons, ensuring they had schoolbooks, shoes, and at least one warm meal a day.
But years passed, and old age arrived with betrayal. A bitter land dispute tore his family apart. His younger son severed ties completely, and although he now lives with his elder son and daughter-in-law, they care little for his well-being. He often eats alone, speaks to no one, and feels like a stranger in his own home.
His health worsened—asthma, hypertension, and diabetes left him physically weak and emotionally drained. He spent whatever little money he had on private clinics, hoping for relief that never came.
Just when despair had nearly consumed him, a kind face knocked on his door—Asha team member. She had seen him struggling and brought him to Asha’s medical clinic, Asha's nurse practitioner, diagnosed his condition and began immediate treatment. Ramratan was given a nebulizing machine, free medications, and above all, a lifeline of hope.
But Asha didn’t stop at medical treatment. They knew that healing is not just physical—it is emotional, too. Ramratan was welcomed into Asha’s “Love and Lunch” program, where elderly people like him are served freshly cooked, nutritious meals with kindness and warmth. For a man who had long eaten alone, these meals became a moment of connection and joy. He began to look forward to them, not just for the food, but for the company and conversation.
Now, Ramratan is an active part of the Asha family. He participates in every gathering—whether it’s a festival celebration, a group discussion, or a health awareness session. His laughter is heard again. His eyes, once dim with sorrow, shine with gratitude.
“I thought my life was over,” he says quietly. “I had no one. I was sick, lonely, and tired. But Asha brought me back. They gave me medicine, yes—but more than that, they gave me dignity. They showed me I still matter.”
