Parminder Plahe

“It wasn’t my decision… it wasn’t a choice, but a forced one—imposed by hunger and the cries of my children that tore my heart apart. ‘Daddy, we’re hungry’… Their words were like knives piercing my chest, and I had no flour, no morsel to ease their hunger. I didn’t want to go, but what could I do? Their tears compelled me. Their pain pushed me to risk my life… I went to the aid distribution point—the one we all know is not a food line, but a death trap. I knew I might not come back, just like so many before me never did… I left, trembling with fear, whispering prayers: ‘Oh God, I just want to return to them—with something to silence their hunger.’ I arrived. The crowd was overwhelming… everyone was starving, everyone desperate, everyone gambling with their life for a sack of flour. Amid bullets, blood, and screams, I pushed forward… I saw people fall around me, each one carrying a small dream—just a bite of food for their children… I reached a sack of flour, being fought over by more than ten men. It tore apart from all the pulling. I only managed to grab less than half—but it was enough for my children for a few days. I walked more than 10 kilometers with it… my wound bleeding… my chest aching from the chaos… But I held onto it like it was life itself. Finally… I arrived. I saw my children… they ran to me… hugged me as if I’d come back from the dead. I didn’t bring them a toy, or candy—just half a sack of flour, covered in blood and exhaustion… but to them, it was a treasure, and their smiles meant everything to me. We never wanted to be here… we didn’t choose this path… but hunger forced us into it. The only thing standing between us and ruin is your support—your donations—your humanity. Please, don’t leave us alone. Save what’s left of our souls—for the sake of small hearts that understand nothing of this world except that they are hungry, and they want their father alive.”** chuffed.org/project/132364-h…