The Day The Grey Disappeared
Every child grows up inside a world they quietly build for themselves. It is shaped by colours they recognise, sounds they trust, and small routines that make life feel safe. When that world begins to blur, a child rarely knows how to explain it. They only sense that something precious is slipping away.
So was it for Nikki, whose world once began every morning beneath a banyan tree in rural Bihar.
A Child Who Loved the Morning Light
It was a calm dawn in Guthani, Siwan. Nikki was already awake.
She was always like that. Unlike other children, she loved mornings. Many days, she would be the first one up in the house, her mother says.
As soon as she woke, Nikki would run outside and stand near the banyan tree that grew beside their home. Birds gathered there every morning, filling the air with sound and movement.
She loved watching them, They were so colourful. Sometimes she would wake me up and ask if I could see the colours too, her mother smiles.
Those mornings belonged to Nikki. They felt endless.
When Colours Began to Fade
At first, nothing felt alarming. Nikki still played, still asked questions, still laughed. But slowly, her questions changed.
One day she asked me, Maa, what colour is that bird’s feather? Is it grey? I laughed and told her it was blue and red. I did not think much of it, her mother recalls.
But the questions continued. Nikki began asking about colours she once recognised instantly. She hesitated more. At school, things became harder.
She came home one day and said, Maa, I could not understand the letters in class.’ That was the first time I felt scared.
What seemed like a small problem was not small at all.
As Nikki’s sight worsened, her mornings disappeared. The child who once greeted the sunrise now slept through it. The banyan tree stood outside as always, but Nikki no longer ran towards it.
She stopped waking up early. That is when I knew something was really wrong, her mother says quietly.
In rural Bihar, specialised eye care is often far away. For families like Nikki’s, fear grows in silence, along with the problem itself.
A Camp That Brought Answers
Hope arrived through an eye screening outreach camp organised by Akhand Jyoti in a nearby village. Nikki was screened there, and for the first time, her mother heard a clear answer.
Nikki had developed congenital cataracts.
When they told me she needed surgery, I was nervous. But she has her whole life ahead of her. I could not let this stop her, her mother admits.
Nikki was referred to Akhand Jyoti’s Centre of Excellence Eye Hospital in Mastichak. Transport was arranged so mother and daughter could reach the hospital safely. The journey that once felt impossible now felt guided.
At the Centre of Excellence, Nikki underwent surgery. The waiting felt heavy, but it did not last long.
The next day, her bandages were removed.
Her mother remembers the moment clearly.
She looked around and then looked at me. She said, ‘Maa, nothing seems grey anymore.
Relief replaced months of fear. In that simple sentence, Nikki’s world returned.
A World Reclaimed
Today, Nikki goes to school again. She reads, plays, and wakes up early just like she used to. The banyan tree still fills with birds every morning, and Nikki still watches them with the same wonder.
At Akhand Jyoti, stories like Nikki’s remind us why access to timely eye care matters. When sight is restored, childhood resumes. And when a child sees clearly again, an entire future opens its eyes.
