A poem for Imanae

Imanae - Our princess

Angels go to heaven. Only a place as beautiful as heaven could cater to smiles so vibrant and laughter so magnificent. Maybe heaven loves children. Maybe heaven rejoices on seeing such animated characters pursue the rivulets and the ever changing butterflies. Question is never their presence in heaven but how they got there. Unfortunate incidents of fate, unforgettable mistakes and sometimes divine intervention all leave behind answers of how our children moved on to the heavens. But this incident alludes to the disorder and mismanagement of the medical industry in Pakistan.
Imanae is no more with us. She was a lovely soul and the heartbeat of her father. You can see pictures of her and her family at http://www.imanae.co.uk/images.html. Simply glimpsing at her pictures brought tears to my eyes. I would have loved to meet her. And listen from her the stories of snowmen, daffodils and even nursery rhymes. I am sure her father loved her voice and her sounds.
What hurts me the most is that my daughter is her age. I could almost anticipate them being friends. But one of the little angels are no with us. She died tragically at Doctors Hospital Lahore due to malpractice and mismanagement. She is a part of the long and tedious number of poor individuals who lost their life due to the maltreatment of doctors in Pakistan.
Since the inception of Pakistan, the doctors and nurses have enjoyed certain repute in the market. They have been extremely successful in camouflaging their mistakes with the veneers of religious jargon. Internet has played a pivotal part in releasing construed information regarding diseases, ailments and treatments. Even the laymen now search and calculate the variance between practice and medical excellence.

Where there are no rules of check and balance, these doctors will perform surgeries and medical treatments without realizing the repercussions. They are completely void of the nemesis effects of their actions and plans. My mother had a towel left in her stomach during her stomach operation. And my father died while given a wrong injection at Punjab Institute of Medical Sciences. And later wrong and immoral behavior of Doctors Hospital cost him his life. I have buried my father like Imanae father buried her. We have left our loved ones to dirt.
I had the pleasure of talking with Aqeel the father of the princess. I salute and admire his journey towards completely shutting down Doctors Hospital and also taking a stance against malpractice. I and others will join him till death for a cause that has made us suffer so much so long. People forget how beautiful fathers and daughters are till they are long gone.
In Pakistan, I am not fruitful of any verdicts. This is a nation of bastard politicians and foul play. Maybe if the daughters of the president, prime ministers and chief ministers are given wrong injections, they will realize the after effects. Maybe that day a resolution will be passed. Maybe that day, we can be assured that no one will die because of a doctors' wrong verdict. And till that day, Aqeel and many many others will fight this war. If you have any comments or cases against Doctors Hospital, please contact the website - http://www.imanae.co.uk.

A poem for Imanae

Your face speaks a million tunes
I would have loved to cradle you in peace and love
Hold you and tell you stories of life and spirit
Yet I see you dancing in heaven
I am sorry I could not defeat the corrupt governance of Pakistan
I am sorry I could not give you processes and safety
I am sorry I could not whisper you tunes
And give you parks to play in
But I promise you
You will live longer than my generations
Your spirit will be remembered time and time again
Fathers like me will love daughter like you
Even when we are no longer alive
So as you look down upon us from heaven
And smile
We are working hard
To commit our promise to you
No more children will die without reason
We will bring back smiles to our generations lips
We will bring back the spirit of our daughters
We will bring back the life that we wanted you to live