Living in a small village in Gujarat, life has always been simple yet demanding. As a farmer, I’ve spent my days working in the fields, watching the seasons change, and understanding the rhythm of nature. But nothing prepared me for the moment when my son, Manav, was diagnosed with autism.
At first, I didn’t know what it meant. I had never heard the word ‘autism’ before. In our village, children are expected to follow the usual path—school, farm work, and eventually supporting the family. But Manav was different. He didn’t speak much, and he preferred the company of animals over people. He would spend hours watching the cows graze, tracing patterns in the dirt with a quiet fascination, or observing the birds in the trees with an intensity I couldn’t understand.
When the doctor in the city explained Manav’s diagnosis, I felt lost. How would we help him? Would he ever be able to communicate with us like other children? The lack of resources in our village made things harder. Schools weren’t equipped to support him, and people didn’t understand his differences. Some neighbors even suggested that he needed to be “disciplined” or that he would “grow out of it.” But deep down, I knew Manav was not broken—he just saw the world differently.
Determined to help my son, I started reaching out to other parents, searching for information and guidance. Over time, I met a few families who had children like Manav, and together, we formed a small support network. We shared advice, encouraged each other, and most importantly, reminded one another to celebrate every little victory.
And that’s when I started seeing the wins—the small, beautiful moments that others might overlook.
One evening, while I was finishing up work in the fields, I noticed Manav sitting by the barn, watching a stray puppy. The little dog was injured, its leg swollen and limp. Before I could say anything, Manav gently reached out, offering it some food. He sat patiently, letting the puppy come to him, his eyes filled with kindness and understanding. I watched in awe as, over the next few days, he cared for the puppy in his own quiet way—making sure it had water, keeping an eye on its movements, and even gesturing to me when he thought it needed help.
It was in that moment that I truly understood my son. While he might not always express himself in words, his actions spoke louder than anything. His ability to connect with animals, to sense their emotions and needs, was something extraordinary.
From that day on, I made it my mission to nurture his love for animals. We started taking small trips to nearby farms and even to a zoo in the city. Each time, his excitement was undeniable—his eyes would light up as he observed the elephants, traced the patterns on a turtle’s shell, or mimicked the sounds of birds.
I also began small awareness campaigns in our village, helping others understand autism. I shared our experiences, spoke at community gatherings, and encouraged early intervention. Slowly, the attitudes around us started to change. Neighbors who once misunderstood Manav’s quiet nature now greeted him with warmth, and local teachers started showing interest in learning how to support neurodiverse children.
Our journey is not without challenges. There are still difficult days, moments of frustration and exhaustion. But every time I see Manav’s joy—whether it’s in the way he gently strokes a calf’s head or his excitement at spotting a new bird—I remind myself of how far we’ve come.
In our own way, in our small corner of the world, we are proving that children like Manav don’t need to fit into society’s mold. They simply need a space where they can grow, be understood, and be celebrated for who they are.
Because sometimes, the greatest victories aren’t in grand achievements, but in the quiet, everyday moments that show us the beauty of a child’s unique world.
