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The Iranian Man Imprisoned For Supporting Women's Rights
The Iranian Man Imprisoned For Supporting Women's Rights

Yahoo

time3 days ago

  • General
  • Yahoo

The Iranian Man Imprisoned For Supporting Women's Rights

Iranian human rights attorney and activist Nasrin Satoudeh holds a photo of her husband outside Tehran's Evin Prison, where he is an inmate. Reza Khandan was taken into custody in December on charges of making buttons reading "I Oppose the Mandatory Hijab" and otherwise supporting women's rights. His wife has spent six years behind bars on similar charges. "Today was the day I'm supposed to be able to meet Reza," she said, "but as usual they prevented me from seeing him because I wasn't wearing a hijab." Credit - Photo by Barbad Behravan این متن را به فارسی بخوانید Reza Khandan was arrested in December 2024 for supporting women's rights in Iran, and creating thousands of homemade buttons that said, 'I Oppose the Mandatory Hijab.' He had previously been imprisoned for 111 days in 2018 for this so-called crime before being released on bail. Reza's wife, Nasrin Sotoudeh, spent over six years in Iranian prisons for her work as a human rights attorney and activist. Reza raised their daughter and son while maintaining his graphic design business, and defying government threats as he campaigned for Nasrin's freedom. Now, Nasrin is home on a medical furlough for a heart condition that was exacerbated by COVID-19 and mistreatment in prison, and Reza is facing at least three more years in Tehran's notorious Evin Prison. I got to know these good people when I directed and produced Nasrin, a 2020 documentary about her life and work. She was in prison most of the time we were filming, and I saw Reza's character— and love—repeatedly tested by a regime that punishes families as a way of inflicting additional pain on its detainees. This interview started in April when I sent a series of questions to Reza. Slowly and with some complicated back and forth, he passed his answers to me. Why have you put yourself at risk (in and out of prison) by criticizing your government—and is it dangerous for you to do this interview? I have a duty and the privilege to defend my rights and the rights of others. Without that, there is a dark future for us and our children. In a country like Iran, with this government, every protest and criticism carries a risk, but that's a chance I'm willing to are a man, with all the privileges that brings in virtually every country. Why do you so strongly support women's rights? No country can achieve democracy, and development with justice and human dignity, without guaranteeing equal rights for women and men. A society that ignores the rights of half of its population will never achieve real greatness. Describe your December 2024 arrest. That morning, I'd gone to the store so I could do some work at the house. On my way back, I noticed several people standing by the entrance talking to the building manager. As soon as I got out of the car, they came towards me, pointed at my license plate, and said they were investigating a crime that had been committed with my car. It quickly became clear that all of their words were lies, and their real intent was to arrest me for my judicial case. After a minute or so, Nasrin joined us. She asked if she could get our son Nima from upstairs so he and I could have a moment together before they took me away. They said yes, but when she left to get him, they forced me into their car and drove off. I never got a chance to say goodbye to my son. I slept in the detention center that night. It was extremely cold. They intentionally turned off the radiator, and there was no other heating device. The detainees were not given food or water. The cells had no beds and there were only a few dirty blankets to somehow be shared by about a dozen people. The Guardian Officer responded to my protests with dirt and ridicule. The filthy bathroom had no soap. They weren't even willing to even let me buy soap with my own money. The next morning, I was transferred to the prosecutor in Evin Prison's court. After hours of being interviewed and processed, I was transferred to a prison quarantine, where I stayed for nine days without any outside more: Why Iran's Leading Women's Rights Defender Thinks the Protesters Could Topple the Regime What is your typical day like in prison? Part of my day is spent cleaning and doing personal chores like buying supplies that are available in the prison store. Food in Iranian prisons is rarely edible, so we have to purchase whatever ingredients we can and prepare our own meals. Ward 8, where I am held, has 33 gas burners for around 600 people. I am part of a group of about ten inmates who cook and eat together, and we are allowed to use a burner three times a week. When possible, I read in the library, and I make sure to exercise. I also walk with friends, which gives us the opportunity to exchange opinions about the news we get through contact with our families. The big problem for an inmate is usually the very slow passage of time, but for me it is just the opposite. I don't want my time here to pass faster because that means I am losing all the moments I should be sharing with my wife, my children, and others I love. Describe Evin Prison and the ward you are in. Evin Prison houses about 15,000 inmates divided into different wards, and there is extreme overcrowding. The reason Evin is infamous is because of its terribly cruel high security detention centers that are poorly supervised by the Prison Chief. Each of these security areas is controlled by of one of the government's security bodies, such as the Ministry of Information, the Revolutionary Guards, and the Judiciary. These detention centers do not comply with any law. Their interrogators employ all kinds of inhumane behavior with the inmates, who are systematically deprived of their rights. Prisoners face beatings, denial of medical care, months in solitary confinement with a total news-blackout, crushing interrogations, forced confessions that taped and broadcast on national television after heavy editing, plus psychological, physical, and sexual torture. Even seemingly small acts deliver needless cruelty. For instance, prisoners have to wear a blindfold and be escorted by an officer if they need to use the bathroom or go to the nurse's more: 'It's Like We're Hanging in the Air.' Iranian Activist Nasrin Sotoudeh's Husband on Her Temporary Release From Prison After the interrogation phase and the issuance of a sentence, prisoners are transferred to a public ward. This is where we will remain until our sentence expires. I am in Ward 8, which has about 600 prisoners. Almost 80% of these men are held for public offences, and the rest are political. Political prisoners do not enjoy equality with ordinary prisoners. We are constantly monitored and followed, our phone access is strictly controlled, the limited calls we do get are constantly cut off for false reasons during conversations, and we rarely get parole. Bedbugs continue to plague all the prisoners. Drugs are rampant. The prison yard has become unusable due to drug use in front of guards and cameras. The slightest complaint about the prison administrators' performance is severely suppressed. This is why I have gone on several hunger strikes since my and why have the authorities harassed and hurt your family? How does this make you feel? The Iranian government actively suppresses the voices of civil society, especially women, and it reacts with great brutality to the smallest protest or disobedience. My wife Nasrin was imprisoned for over six years for her work as a human rights attorney. Our daughter Mehraveh has been threatened and harassed in numerous ways (including a forced daylong interrogation). Our son Nima was savagely beaten by prison guards when he tried to visit me (this was no accident, but a planned assault). In addition, our bank accounts were frozen, and now I am held in one of the worst wards of Evin Prison because I support women' rights and I made buttons that said, 'I oppose the mandatory hijab.' Many others have faced similar cruelties, and much worse. Despite all the difficulties and hardship that Nasrin has endured on this path, she doesn't doubt her choices. Neither do I. We can't be apathetic towards injustice and oppression. I think this is why regardless of the challenges and struggles we've faced; we have kept the family close and as strong as ever. This is the treasure that has made all our activism possible. What has your wife Nasrin taught you and how does she inspire you? I've loved Nasrin since we first met, and a shared commitment to women's rights and opposition to the compulsory hijab has always been part of our relationship. Nasrin was unjustly and cruelly imprisoned for her legal work representing Iranian human rights and women's rights activists from 2010 through 2013 (when our children were very young), and again from 2018 through 2021 (she was eventually released on a medical furlough due to a serious heart problem). In October 2023, she was beaten, arrested, and detained for several weeks for attending the funeral of Armita Geravand, a 17-year-old who was killed for supposedly not properly wearing her hijab. All this time, Nasrin has never stopped showing a deep concern for her family, and she has never given in to enormous pressure from the government. I am inspired by those qualities, and more. I am also inspired by my fellow inmates who have been arrested for their support of human rights, in Iran and around the more: Nasrin Sotoudeh Is on the 2021 TIME100 List You have spoken openly about some of your cellmates who are also imprisoned for being human right activists. If it will help and not put them at risk, please share what you can about them. We have no statistics of the number of political prisoners in the security detention centers inside Evin Prison, but I estimate that there are about 300, and about 70 of them are women. There are nearly 80 political prisoners in our ward alone, including men with dual citizenship, women's rights and democracy activists, and those held for a variety of ideological beliefs. Reza Valizadeh is currently the only dual-national political prisoner with American citizenship. Last year he visited Iran to see his aging parents. After a few months of harassment and interrogation, he was finally arrested and sentenced to ten years in prison. Valizadeh was a radio reporter until a few years ago, so they tried to force him to confess to 'collaborating with a foreign government.' The also tried to get him to speak against his former colleagues at Radio Farda, which he strongly rejected. Valizadeh has consistently stood up against their inhumane demands. Mohammad Najafi, Mohammad Reza Faghihee and Taher Naghavi are lawyers who are in prison for their human rights activities. Mohammad Najafi holds the record in having the most cases created against him. He has been in prison for nearly 7 years. Vahid Khadirzadeh is a young man who was convicted and incarcerated for protesting the forced veiling of women, and he is somewhat similar to me and my friend Farhad Meysami (Farhad was imprisoned for 5 years). Another man is in prison for the fourth time for a total of 8 and a half years. He says he spent 120 days in solitary confinement during one of his detentions. Because of this experience, he was so intellectually and psychologically disturbed that at the end of confinement when they gave him a piece of fruit, he could not remember the word 'orange.' What personal message can you say to your daughter Mehraveh and your son Nima? Nasrin and I at all times think about our son and daughter. When we are working for individual freedoms and human rights, and when we are away in prison for those activities, Mehraveh and Nima are in our hearts. We consider their circumstances, their dreams, their future, and the future of all the children in this country. They deserve a better life. All our strength and energy come from our children, who have suffered more than us. Nasrin and I are very proud of them, and we have learned from them greatly. Being separated from Mehraveh and Nima, and from Nasrin, is agony. I love them very much. You are in prison in part because you believe in a democratic ideal, yet democracy is being seriously challenged in many countries, including America. Do you still believe in democracy and where do you see the world headed in the next decade or two? The process of democratization starts and stops, but the world is moving forward. Progress is inevitable. Perhaps it is hard for people in other countries, like yours, to imagine having leaders who have so little concern for human rights that they will lock up individuals for trying to make their society better. This can happen if you are not careful. In Iran, I feel the arrest of people like me, activists in the women's movement, protesters of the compulsory hijab, and advocates of a just civil society, is a last desperate and senseless attempt to continue this incompetent and corrupt government. I do draw hope and strength from those here who support the process of democratization, and from people half-way across the world whose daily lives are dedicated to the fight against injustice. I am proud of our work and am sure that we have taken the right path. How can you keep hope alive in prison? The most important point of hope is that it strengthens our belief in change and in the impact our activities have outside of prison. When political prisoners hear of support from people like you, it has a direct benefit. Knowing we are not alone and not forgotten is very closely tied to keeping our sense of purpose. Of course, all prisoners must have a plan for themselves. Reading, exercise, exchange of information and ideas with fellow inmates, and helping each other, all helps us to serve our sentence with the least damage. What message do you have for the leaders of Iran? Leaders of authoritarian governments do not want to hear anything except praise. They always deem themselves to be an exception to the lessons of history. But they should know, history doesn't have any exceptions. I also want to say, "I demand freedom for all political prisoners,' and 'I object to the compulsory hijab!' What would you like to say to all the people who signed the petition calling for your freedom? When Nasrin told me that this petition was signed by so many people from dozens of countries around the world, it made me very proud and hopeful. I am deeply grateful to every one of these dear friends. Were it not for this level of concern, awareness, and public pressure for the release of me and other political prisoners, our condition would be much worse and more dangerous. This a great blessing. Farsi translation by Parisa Saranj Contact us at letters@

Meet the Jailed Husband of Iran's Most Prominent Women's Rights Defender
Meet the Jailed Husband of Iran's Most Prominent Women's Rights Defender

Time​ Magazine

time3 days ago

  • Entertainment
  • Time​ Magazine

Meet the Jailed Husband of Iran's Most Prominent Women's Rights Defender

این متن را به فارسی بخوانید Reza Khandan was arrested in December 2024 for supporting women's rights in Iran, and creating thousands of homemade buttons that said, 'I Oppose the Mandatory Hijab.' He had previously been imprisoned for 111 days in 2018 for this so-called crime before being released on bail. Reza's wife, Nasrin Sotoudeh, spent over six years in Iranian prisons for her work as a human rights attorney and activist. Reza raised their daughter and son while maintaining his graphic design business, and defying government threats as he campaigned for Nasrin's freedom. Now, Nasrin is home on a medical furlough for a heart condition that was exacerbated by COVID-19 and mistreatment in prison, and Reza is facing at least three more years in Tehran's notorious Evin Prison. I got to know these good people when I directed and produced Nasrin, a 2020 documentary about her life and work. She was in prison most of the time we were filming, and I saw Reza's character— and love—repeatedly tested by a regime that punishes families as a way of inflicting additional pain on its detainees. This interview started in April when I sent a series of questions to Reza. Slowly and with some complicated back and forth, he passed his answers to me. Why have you put yourself at risk (in and out of prison) by criticizing your government—and is it dangerous for you to do this interview? I have a duty and the privilege to defend my rights and the rights of others. Without that, there is a dark future for us and our children. In a country like Iran, with this government, every protest and criticism carries a risk, but that's a chance I'm willing to take. You are a man, with all the privileges that brings in virtually every country. Why do you so strongly support women's rights? No country can achieve democracy, and development with justice and human dignity, without guaranteeing equal rights for women and men. A society that ignores the rights of half of its population will never achieve real greatness. Describe your December 2024 arrest. That morning, I'd gone to the store so I could do some work at the house. On my way back, I noticed several people standing by the entrance talking to the building manager. As soon as I got out of the car, they came towards me, pointed at my license plate, and said they were investigating a crime that had been committed with my car. It quickly became clear that all of their words were lies, and their real intent was to arrest me for my judicial case. After a minute or so, Nasrin joined us. She asked if she could get our son Nima from upstairs so he and I could have a moment together before they took me away. They said yes, but when she left to get him, they forced me into their car and drove off. I never got a chance to say goodbye to my son. I slept in the detention center that night. It was extremely cold. They intentionally turned off the radiator, and there was no other heating device. The detainees were not given food or water. The cells had no beds and there were only a few dirty blankets to somehow be shared by about a dozen people. The Guardian Officer responded to my protests with dirt and ridicule. The filthy bathroom had no soap. They weren't even willing to even let me buy soap with my own money. The next morning, I was transferred to the prosecutor in Evin Prison's court. After hours of being interviewed and processed, I was transferred to a prison quarantine, where I stayed for nine days without any outside contact. Read more: Why Iran's Leading Women's Rights Defender Thinks the Protesters Could Topple the Regime What is your typical day like in prison? Part of my day is spent cleaning and doing personal chores like buying supplies that are available in the prison store. Food in Iranian prisons is rarely edible, so we have to purchase whatever ingredients we can and prepare our own meals. Ward 8, where I am held, has 33 gas burners for around 600 people. I am part of a group of about ten inmates who cook and eat together, and we are allowed to use a burner three times a week. When possible, I read in the library, and I make sure to exercise. I also walk with friends, which gives us the opportunity to exchange opinions about the news we get through contact with our families. The big problem for an inmate is usually the very slow passage of time, but for me it is just the opposite. I don't want my time here to pass faster because that means I am losing all the moments I should be sharing with my wife, my children, and others I love. Describe Evin Prison and the ward you are in. Evin Prison houses about 15,000 inmates divided into different wards, and there is extreme overcrowding. The reason Evin is infamous is because of its terribly cruel high security detention centers that are poorly supervised by the Prison Chief. Each of these security areas is controlled by of one of the government's security bodies, such as the Ministry of Information, the Revolutionary Guards, and the Judiciary. These detention centers do not comply with any law. Their interrogators employ all kinds of inhumane behavior with the inmates, who are systematically deprived of their rights. Prisoners face beatings, denial of medical care, months in solitary confinement with a total news-blackout, crushing interrogations, forced confessions that taped and broadcast on national television after heavy editing, plus psychological, physical, and sexual torture. Even seemingly small acts deliver needless cruelty. For instance, prisoners have to wear a blindfold and be escorted by an officer if they need to use the bathroom or go to the nurse's office. Read more: 'It's Like We're Hanging in the Air.' Iranian Activist Nasrin Sotoudeh's Husband on Her Temporary Release From Prison After the interrogation phase and the issuance of a sentence, prisoners are transferred to a public ward. This is where we will remain until our sentence expires. I am in Ward 8, which has about 600 prisoners. Almost 80% of these men are held for public offences, and the rest are political. Political prisoners do not enjoy equality with ordinary prisoners. We are constantly monitored and followed, our phone access is strictly controlled, the limited calls we do get are constantly cut off for false reasons during conversations, and we rarely get parole. Bedbugs continue to plague all the prisoners. Drugs are rampant. The prison yard has become unusable due to drug use in front of guards and cameras. The slightest complaint about the prison administrators' performance is severely suppressed. This is why I have gone on several hunger strikes since my arrest. How and why have the authorities harassed and hurt your family? How does this make you feel? The Iranian government actively suppresses the voices of civil society, especially women, and it reacts with great brutality to the smallest protest or disobedience. My wife Nasrin was imprisoned for over six years for her work as a human rights attorney. Our daughter Mehraveh has been threatened and harassed in numerous ways (including a forced daylong interrogation). Our son Nima was savagely beaten by prison guards when he tried to visit me (this was no accident, but a planned assault). In addition, our bank accounts were frozen, and now I am held in one of the worst wards of Evin Prison because I support women' rights and I made buttons that said, 'I oppose the mandatory hijab.' Many others have faced similar cruelties, and much worse. Despite all the difficulties and hardship that Nasrin has endured on this path, she doesn't doubt her choices. Neither do I. We can't be apathetic towards injustice and oppression. I think this is why regardless of the challenges and struggles we've faced; we have kept the family close and as strong as ever. This is the treasure that has made all our activism possible. What has your wife Nasrin taught you and how does she inspire you? I've loved Nasrin since we first met, and a shared commitment to women's rights and opposition to the compulsory hijab has always been part of our relationship. Nasrin was unjustly and cruelly imprisoned for her legal work representing Iranian human rights and women's rights activists from 2010 through 2013 (when our children were very young), and again from 2018 through 2021 (she was eventually released on a medical furlough due to a serious heart problem). In October 2023, she was beaten, arrested, and detained for several weeks for attending the funeral of Armita Geravand, a 17-year-old who was killed for supposedly not properly wearing her hijab. All this time, Nasrin has never stopped showing a deep concern for her family, and she has never given in to enormous pressure from the government. I am inspired by those qualities, and more. I am also inspired by my fellow inmates who have been arrested for their support of human rights, in Iran and around the world. Read more: Nasrin Sotoudeh Is on the 2021 TIME100 List You have spoken openly about some of your cellmates who are also imprisoned for being human right activists. If it will help and not put them at risk, please share what you can about them. We have no statistics of the number of political prisoners in the security detention centers inside Evin Prison, but I estimate that there are about 300, and about 70 of them are women. There are nearly 80 political prisoners in our ward alone, including men with dual citizenship, women's rights and democracy activists, and those held for a variety of ideological beliefs. Reza Valizadeh is currently the only dual-national political prisoner with American citizenship. Last year he visited Iran to see his aging parents. After a few months of harassment and interrogation, he was finally arrested and sentenced to ten years in prison. Valizadeh was a radio reporter until a few years ago, so they tried to force him to confess to 'collaborating with a foreign government.' The also tried to get him to speak against his former colleagues at Radio Farda, which he strongly rejected. Valizadeh has consistently stood up against their inhumane demands. Mohammad Najafi, Mohammad Reza Faghihee and Taher Naghavi are lawyers who are in prison for their human rights activities. Mohammad Najafi holds the record in having the most cases created against him. He has been in prison for nearly 7 years. Vahid Khadirzadeh is a young man who was convicted and incarcerated for protesting the forced veiling of women, and he is somewhat similar to me and my friend Farhad Meysami (Farhad was imprisoned for 5 years). Another man is in prison for the fourth time for a total of 8 and a half years. He says he spent 120 days in solitary confinement during one of his detentions. Because of this experience, he was so intellectually and psychologically disturbed that at the end of confinement when they gave him a piece of fruit, he could not remember the word 'orange.' What personal message can you say to your daughter Mehraveh and your son Nima? Nasrin and I at all times think about our son and daughter. When we are working for individual freedoms and human rights, and when we are away in prison for those activities, Mehraveh and Nima are in our hearts. We consider their circumstances, their dreams, their future, and the future of all the children in this country. They deserve a better life. All our strength and energy come from our children, who have suffered more than us. Nasrin and I are very proud of them, and we have learned from them greatly. Being separated from Mehraveh and Nima, and from Nasrin, is agony. I love them very much. You are in prison in part because you believe in a democratic ideal, yet democracy is being seriously challenged in many countries, including America. Do you still believe in democracy and where do you see the world headed in the next decade or two? The process of democratization starts and stops, but the world is moving forward. Progress is inevitable. Perhaps it is hard for people in other countries, like yours, to imagine having leaders who have so little concern for human rights that they will lock up individuals for trying to make their society better. This can happen if you are not careful. In Iran, I feel the arrest of people like me, activists in the women's movement, protesters of the compulsory hijab, and advocates of a just civil society, is a last desperate and senseless attempt to continue this incompetent and corrupt government. I do draw hope and strength from those here who support the process of democratization, and from people half-way across the world whose daily lives are dedicated to the fight against injustice. I am proud of our work and am sure that we have taken the right path. How can you keep hope alive in prison? The most important point of hope is that it strengthens our belief in change and in the impact our activities have outside of prison. When political prisoners hear of support from people like you, it has a direct benefit. Knowing we are not alone and not forgotten is very closely tied to keeping our sense of purpose. Of course, all prisoners must have a plan for themselves. Reading, exercise, exchange of information and ideas with fellow inmates, and helping each other, all helps us to serve our sentence with the least damage. What message do you have for the leaders of Iran? Leaders of authoritarian governments do not want to hear anything except praise. They always deem themselves to be an exception to the lessons of history. But they should know, history doesn't have any exceptions. I also want to say, "I demand freedom for all political prisoners,' and 'I object to the compulsory hijab!' What would you like to say to all the people who signed the petition calling for your freedom? When Nasrin told me that this petition was signed by so many people from dozens of countries around the world, it made me very proud and hopeful. I am deeply grateful to every one of these dear friends. Were it not for this level of concern, awareness, and public pressure for the release of me and other political prisoners, our condition would be much worse and more dangerous. This a great blessing.

Four months after delivery, 2nd MMCH new mother dies
Four months after delivery, 2nd MMCH new mother dies

Time of India

time12-05-2025

  • Health
  • Time of India

Four months after delivery, 2nd MMCH new mother dies

Midnapore: Nasrin Khatun , one of the five women who developed severe complications post-C-section delivery at Midnapore Medical College in Jan, died late on Sunday. West Midnapore chief medical officer Soumyashankar Sharangi said that Khatun died from multi-organ failure while undergoing dialysis. "This is an extremely tragic incident," he the women's families had claimed expired Ringer's lactate was administered on the new mothers, a probe had pointed at human error, too. Earlier, another of the five affected new mothers, Mamoni Ruidas, had died at MMCH. Nasrin, along with Minara Bibi and Mampi Singh, was shifted to SSKM on Jan 12 and admitted to the critical care unit. While Minara and Mampi were discharged, Nasrin needed further dialysis and other treatment. She was later sent home but was again admitted to SSKM around 10 days ago, after her health started to fail at home. According to family members, Nasreen was initially admitted to a general bed and was expected to be released on May 10. But her condition deteriorated on May 9, when she started vomiting and experienced seizures. She was pronounced dead on Sunday the MMCH incident in Jan, the Bengal govt had blacklisted Paschim Banga Pharmaceuticals, a supplier of Ringer's lactate to state's Central Medical Store, from where saline bottles were disbursed to govt health facilities. The govt ordered an inquiry into the deaths of the two women, the supply of quality medicine in govt hospitals, and exemplary punishment for those responsible for the deaths.

Mother dies 4 months after being given ‘expired saline' by West Bengal govt-run hospital
Mother dies 4 months after being given ‘expired saline' by West Bengal govt-run hospital

Indian Express

time12-05-2025

  • Health
  • Indian Express

Mother dies 4 months after being given ‘expired saline' by West Bengal govt-run hospital

Four months after allegedly being administered contaminated saline in the West Bengal government-run Midnapore Medical College, 20-year-old Nasrin Khatun – a new mother – died on Sunday night. According to her family, her condition had remained critical since the saline administration. She was on dialysis, her heart was failing, and two days before her death, she began experiencing seizures during dialysis. She never regained consciousness and was placed on a ventilator. The incident dates back to January 2025, when a 31-year-old woman who had delivered a baby on January 8 died the next day at the state-run hospital. Her family alleged that her death was caused by the use of 'expired' saline. Three other women, including Nasrin, developed complications after receiving the same saline. The affected women were transferred to SSKM Medical College and Hospital in Kolkata on January 12. 'She had been battling for her life after that poisonous saline was given to her,' said Sheikh Zayed, Nasrin's maternal uncle, to The Indian Express. 'For the last two days, she was on ventilation. We were told that her organs had started to fail.' Nasrin's mother-in-law, Fateha Bibi, told reporters, 'Ten days ago, she was shifted to a general bed and doctors said she was to return home, but then during dialysis she suddenly started having fits, after which she did not regain consciousness. Her kidneys were not working, neither was her heart. We have lost everything. The child will never know what a mother's care is like. My son's life is over… We are worried for him as he is also unwell.' Silence has descended over Keshpur village, where Nasrin lived. Meanwhile, the other two affected mothers, Mampi Singh and Minara Biwi, had recently been discharged from the hospital. Following the January incident, a 13-member team from the State Health Department had visited the hospitals amid widespread protests. Family members of the deceased 31-year-old woman filed complaints at Kotwali police station, expressing frustration that action was 'only being taken' after the patients had died. The West Bengal government then issued a directive stating: 'All the items procured through SMIS from Paschim Banga Pharmaceutical should not be used even if available… and all existing stocks should be withdrawn.' As part of the fallout, the government suspended 12 doctors for 'medical negligence' related to the use of the expired saline. Compensation of Rs 12 lakh and a government job were announced for the family of the deceased.

How this 35-year-old woman adopted her foster daughter and built a forever family with her
How this 35-year-old woman adopted her foster daughter and built a forever family with her

CNA

time04-05-2025

  • General
  • CNA

How this 35-year-old woman adopted her foster daughter and built a forever family with her

When asked how many children they want, most married couples might say one, two, or perhaps none. But Nasrin Shah Beevi, 35, has raised six children – and she doesn't plan to stop there. None of these children were born to her, however. They are her foster children, and have ranged from a baby to children in their tweens. Nasrin, who's a counsellor, began her fostering journey in 2021, two years after marrying her husband, Nizamudheen Ishak, 52, an IT manager. Though Nasrin loves all her foster children dearly, she knows that they are all only with her for a season. Placed in foster care due to abuse, neglect, abandonment, or because their parents are unable to care for them due to incarceration, illness, or death, most of them return to their biological families once the situation stabilises – usually within a few months to a few years. But one girl stayed. Two years ago, around Mother's Day, Nasrin received news that she could adopt Nur (not her real name), a spirited three-year-old girl she had been fostering. 'I cried. It was like a Mother's Day gift to me,' she recalled. In turns laughing and crying during our interview, Nasrin shares her incredible motherhood journey with CNA Women. BECOMING A MUM OVERNIGHT Nasrin was first told about Nur through a phone call. Days later, she and her husband made their way to a respite house – short-term accommodation typically for children in crises or whose carers need a brief reprieve. Balloon and lollipop in hand, she met three-and-a-half-year-old Nur for the first time. The first thing that struck Nasrin was how small the child was. Part of this might have been genetic, but Nur also wasn't well-fed as a baby and toddler, Nasrin said. 'Nobody would believe she was three-and-a-half. They'd probably think she is barely two years old,' she remarked. From the beginning, Nasrin was told the child would be available for adoption. However, the social worker wanted to observe how the girl adjusted under Nasrin and Nizamudheen's care. The young girl was playing with another child and refused to even look at her fosterers. Later, when she followed the two strangers home, she silently held Nasrin's hand, not uttering a word. For the next few days, Nur did not speak to Nasrin, responding to questions with non-verbal sounds. She was slightly more communicative with Nizamudheen, but still very reserved. Nasrin had been told that Nur was more comfortable with men due to her history of neglect and abandonment, particularly with women. Nonetheless, she couldn't help wondering if she was doing something wrong. Taking the rejection in her stride, Nasrin worked hard to win Nur's trust, caring for the child and carving out time to give her undivided attention. Slowly but surely, the breakthrough came. Two weeks later, Nur began responding to Nasrin, and even called her 'mummy' for the first time. 'It was really beautiful when I was able to reach her, and she acknowledged my presence – embraced my existence,' Nasrin said. A SECOND CHANCE AT CHILDHOOD It's hard to believe the six-year-old Nur today was the neglected, withdrawn child Nasrin met at respite care. Today, she is chatty, opinionated, bursting with energy, and full of life. 'My cousins say that she'll be a good lawyer. She tries to negotiate everything to the best of her ability,' Nasrin chuckled. 'She's bright, intelligent, sociable, happy and mischievous – everybody adores her.' Noticing the positive changes in Nur, the social worker initiated the adoption process. The day after Mother's Day in 2023, Nasrin and her husband received the joyful news that they could legally adopt her. In October 2024, the adoption was finalised – and Nur officially became their daughter. The mother and daughter are very attached. 'I've never received this much love and attention from a child,' Nasrin said, choking up with tears. 'She jumps on you, cuddles you, hugs you and kisses you. Even though we don't share blood ties, she loves us so much. It's really beautiful,' Nasrin added. 'Every night, before we go to bed, we hug and kiss.' The family enjoys cycling, reading, doing craft activities and travelling together. 'Every day is a precious memory,' Nasrin said. LOVE THAT STEPS IN, WHEN FAMILY CAN'T Watching Nur blossom has been a magical experience for Nasrin. It has also convinced her that a loving family can transform the life of a vulnerable child. Nasrin told CNA Women that she has been drawn to fostering since she began working as a counsellor at a social service agency in her twenties, where she worked with many vulnerable children. Her husband, an active volunteer working with offenders and ex-offenders, is also passionate about helping those in need. Hence, shortly after their marriage, the couple agreed to start their fostering journey, regardless of whether they have biological children. 'We didn't put pressure on each other to have a biological child. We will let nature take its course,' she said. After adopting Nur, the couple, at Nur's request, also fostered a 13-month-old baby for a few months. Nur had been wishing for a little sister. This was the first baby Nasrin has fostered – her other foster children were between four and 10 years old. While Nasrin bonded with the baby and found the experience meaningful, Nur had a harder time adjusting. The baby demanded much of Nasrin's attention, and Nur missed the one-on-one time they used to share. She also struggled with mum guilt. Hence, the couple have decided to hold off fostering for now, and instead offer short-term respite care lasting a few days to children in need. They hope to continue fostering in a couple of years when Nur is ready and Nasrin has the bandwidth. 'We felt that with Nur's transition from foster to adopted child, it may be too soon for her to be an older sister. Hopefully, in a couple of years, when Nur is more mature, we will engage her in the decision-making (on whether to foster again),' Nasrin said. Reflecting on the importance of stepping up to provide a temporary home and family for children in need, Nasrin poignantly recalled her first foster child, a four-year-old, in 2020. 'I will never be able to forget this experience. The social worker brought him from the hospital, so he was wearing hospital clothes and didn't have any home clothes. 'After we signed the fostering agreement, my husband and I brought him to a mall to get new clothes. He was a very fair-skinned boy and looked very different from us. As my husband and I held his hands, the public's eye was on us. I wondered how the child felt,' she added, tears welling in her eyes. HERE FOR A SEASON, IN HER HEART FOREVER One challenge of fostering is that the children come from diverse backgrounds. Every child is different, and depending on their age, are going through different transitions, Nasrin said. Another challenge is that no matter how much you love the child, he or she will usually leave you in time, she said. 'Right from the start, I knew the fostering journey could end abruptly. It was what I had signed up for,' she said. Even with adopted children, this may be the case, Nasrin added. As her adopted daughter grows older and begins asking questions about her biological mother, Nasrin is ready to support her if she ever decides to search for and return to her birth parents, she said. 'If that is her decision, we will walk the journey with her,' she said resolutely. For Nasrin, it doesn't matter whether they came from her womb or through foster care – she loves her adopted daughter and foster children as her own. She said she would have adopted her other foster kids if reunification with their biological families hadn't been possible. "My husband once told the social worker that he wants to take a family photo with all our foster children and hang it on the wall one day," Nasrin said, her voice full of warmth. This unconventional family tree is a dream Nasrin holds close to her heart as well.

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