Syed Nissar H. Gilani
In April 1975, as the final days of the Vietnam War unfolded, the world witnessed one of the most harrowing aerial evacuations in history: Operation Babylift. Authorized to fly over 3,000 South Vietnamese orphans to safety, the initiative began with tragedy. On April 4, a giant U.S. Air Force C-5A Galaxy carrying 314 occupants—including 243 infants and children—suffered a catastrophic cargo door failure at 23,000 feet. Despite explosive decompression and lost controls, Captain Dennis “Bud” Traynor managed to steer the crippled aircraft back toward Saigon, crash-landing in a rice paddy. Though 138 lives were tragically lost, 176 people survived, including 149 infants who were pulled from the wreckage, many still safe in their improvised cribs. In the face of conflict and chaos, humanity’s instincts to protect the most vulnerable proved unbreakable.
Decades later, a far more intimate yet deeply resonant memory brought those thoughts back to my mind.
On April 12, 2012, our family was blessed with immense joy upon the birth of my grandson, Raed, at a private nursing home. Jubilation filled our home, and good wishes poured in from every corner. However, our happiness was quickly tempered with anxiety when the newborn developed a chest infection. Pediatricians advised an immediate transfer to the G.B. Pant Children’s Hospital in the cantonment area, where he was promptly admitted for specialized care.
The hospital staff worked tirelessly, navigating a heavily overcrowded ward with meticulous care. Raed was placed in a crib, receiving oxygen and essential fluids. As I stood vigil by his side during those tense days, I began to observe something unusual amidst the routine hospital bustle.
A foreign lady, accompanied by police personnel, was moving quietly through the ward, stopping at specific prams where infants were receiving treatment. Outside the ICU, other women waited with bags of toffees and candies, distributing them to fellow visitors. Given the hospital’s strict protocols restricting unidentified visitors in the delicate baby ICU, her presence immediately raised eyebrows and sparked quiet chatter among the family attendants.
Driven by curiosity, I spoke with the then Medical Superintendent of the hospital, Dr. Jaweed Chaudary. He revealed a heartbreaking reality: there were unfortunate instances of unwanted infants being abandoned near the hospital gates or dropped in public areas. Dr. Chaudary explained that the medical staff were bound by duty and compassion to admit, treat, and provide complete medical care to these innocent babies.
Once fully recovered, these infants became eligible for adoption by childless families desperate for a child. After all necessary legal formalities were completed, the adopting families were granted custody—which explained why police personnel were frequently seen conducting routine official visits at the hospital. Regarding the foreign lady, Dr. Chaudary mentioned that she was pleading with authorities to allow her NGO to adopt some of these abandoned babies. However, the government maintained a firm policy prohibiting foreign nationals from adopting them, ensuring strict regulatory oversight and safeguarding the welfare of the children.
Out of those delicate hospital days came stories of profound hope. Two such babies—a boy and a girl—were legally adopted by a loving couple from Srinagar, with whom I have remained in touch over the years. Today, that fortunate boy and girl have grown up as brother and sister, studying in Class 9 at a reputed school in Srinagar. Given the wonderful care, affection, and guidance provided by their adoptive parents, I am confident this bright young duo will touch dizzy heights in the years to come.
Yet, their story also forces us to ask a fundamental question: Can our society not afford a more humane, dignified, and organized response for every abandoned child?
Across many parts of the world—from Europe (where Germany long ago pioneered the Babyklappe) to Japan, South Korea, and the United States—nations have established heavily regulated “Baby Hatches” or Safe Haven Baby Boxes. Built directly into hospitals or emergency medical facilities, these are temperature-controlled, padded, and sensor-monitored incubators accessible from the outside. When a desperate parent in crisis places a newborn inside and closes the door, an automatic silent alarm alerts hospital personnel within seconds. The baby is instantly retrieved, given immediate medical care, and placed into a transparent, legally protected adoption system without the parent facing criminal prosecution for abandonment.
In contrast, our local society too often witnesses the tragic discovery of newborns left in roadside dustbins, harsh alleyways, or abandoned on the stone stairways of religious shrines. A truly civil, compassionate society cannot turn a blind eye to these tragedies.
Instead of leaving desperate mothers with no alternative other than dangerous abandonment, shouldn’t we establish properly registered, state-sanctioned “cradles of care” or baby banks at major hospitals? By combining secure, anonymous surrender mechanisms with strict legal protocols and regulated adoption processes, we can protect the sacred right to life. Every innocent child, regardless of how they enter the world, deserves a warm cradle, medical dignity, and the promise of a bright, secure future in a loving home.
The author is a former civil servant from the administrative service, can be reached at nisargilani57748@gmail.com
