To Mom with Gratitude
A Pakistani man writes a letter of love to the mother of his Indian donor upon completing 10 years as an organ recipient
(This is a symbolic letter of gratitude, and an imaginary construct of the organ recipient’s thoughts. The identity of the donor is not revealed to the recipient under existing laws and as ethical practice)
Dear Mom,
It’s me, Faisal Abdullah Malik, your son from Pakistan, whose life you saved a decade ago by making a decision that only a mother as extraordinary as you could make. Today, as I reflect on that momentous day, my heart is overwhelmed with gratitude, love, and a longing to connect with you.
I crossed the border into India for a heart transplant after reaching out to people in multiple countries, hoping for help due to the lack of deceased organ donation in my home country. The hospital and doctor in Chennai were the only ones to respond positively, offering me the earliest hope of life.
And you, Mom, when you lost Karthick in that tragic accident, found the strength to give me the most precious gift of all: his heart. Words cannot express the depth of my gratitude for your incredible kindness and generosity.
On 26 December 2014, both our lives changed forever. Karthick, your beloved son, was brought to Tirupur Government Hospital, near Coimbatore, after a tragic road accident. He was later transferred to G. Kuppusamy Naidu Memorial (GKNM) Hospital. When the doctors declared him brain dead, you had ...
(This is a symbolic letter of gratitude, and an imaginary construct of the organ recipient’s thoughts. The identity of the donor is not revealed to the recipient under existing laws and as ethical practice)
Dear Mom,
It’s me, Faisal Abdullah Malik, your son from Pakistan, whose life you saved a decade ago by making a decision that only a mother as extraordinary as you could make. Today, as I reflect on that momentous day, my heart is overwhelmed with gratitude, love, and a longing to connect with you.
I crossed the border into India for a heart transplant after reaching out to people in multiple countries, hoping for help due to the lack of deceased organ donation in my home country. The hospital and doctor in Chennai were the only ones to respond positively, offering me the earliest hope of life.
And you, Mom, when you lost Karthick in that tragic accident, found the strength to give me the most precious gift of all: his heart. Words cannot express the depth of my gratitude for your incredible kindness and generosity.
On 26 December 2014, both our lives changed forever. Karthick, your beloved son, was brought to Tirupur Government Hospital, near Coimbatore, after a tragic road accident. He was later transferred to G. Kuppusamy Naidu Memorial (GKNM) Hospital. When the doctors declared him brain dead, you had to face the unthinkable, your final moments with him, holding his hand, saying your silent goodbyes.
Saving six lives, Mom, in the depths of that unimaginable grief, you made a choice that speaks of boundless courage and selflessness. You not only gave me Karthick’s heart but also donated five other organs, giving the gift of life to six strangers. Six lives were saved because of your strength. And what moves me the most is that you made this difficult decision without ever questioning the race, religion, or background of those who would receive the organs. Your decision was solely about saving lives.
Allah tells us in the Qur’an, “Whoever saves a life, it is as if they saved all of humanity.” Mom, you embody those sacred words.
Today, as a father of two growing children, I can truly understand the magnitude of your sacrifice. I can only imagine the storm of emotions you must have battled. Did you question if it was the right decision? Did you fear it was too much to bear? And yet, in the darkest hour of your life, you chose life for others. You chose hope. I know Karthick must be so proud of you, as am I, Mom. I am alive today because of your strength.
Eight months before my heart failure, my own Ammi passed away on 15 May 2013, just a day before my birthday. Losing her left a void in my life. But then Allah, in His mysterious and beautiful ways, blessed me with another mother—YOU. Through Karthick’s heart, which beats within my chest, He connected us. You became my mother, and I became your son, though we have never met. May I call you Ammi?
Tearing apart the political divide, I have longed to meet you, Ammi. I have travelled to Chennai several times since receiving Karthick’s heart, always hoping to somehow find a way to Coimbatore. But my medical visa restricts me from travelling outside Chennai, taking even one step closer. You might be wondering why I don’t even call you? Names of donors and recipients are kept confidential, and I feel helpless.
Each time, I would face Coimbatore from afar, close my eyes, and imagine speaking to you. I have felt your presence in my prayers and shared my thoughts with you. But now, thousands of miles and the cruel divisions of politics make it almost impossible for us to meet.
I want to tell you everything, Ammi. I want to share the pain I endured during my heart failure, the moments of hopelessness when I yearned for my own Ammi’s comforting touch. And over the past decade, in my hardest moments, I have thought of you just as I thought of her—with love, gratitude, and longing. You were there in my heart when I needed strength. I want to tell you how hard I have worked to honour the gift of life you gave me, to keep Karthick’s heart safe and healthy. By Allah’s grace, I have succeeded.
I know you must miss Karthick every day. I can only imagine the weight of that loss. But Ammi, I ask you to find comfort in this truth—Karthick is still alive in my body. He lives on in spirit, in love, and in the life you saved. Through me, his heart still beats, carrying forward the love and blessings you poured into him. When I laugh with my children, when I take a deep breath, when I face the world with resilience, it is because of Karthick and you.
When I think of my wish to meet you, I hold back. I don’t want to cause you pain by bringing up his absence. So I tell myself—let me write to Ammi instead, and share what I feel, rather than meet her and reopen old grief. Maybe, in some quiet way, my gratitude will still reach you.
Smile Ammi, in the knowledge that Karthick’s legacy is alive and thriving. He is 36 now.
I love you, Ammi. Forever and always. Until the day we meet in heaven, please carry me in your heart as I carry you and Karthick in mine.
Yours always,
Faisal
Edited excerpt from New Life, New Beginnings: Compelling Stories by Organ Recipients, Donors and Doctors, Edited by Dr. Viney Kirpal, Published by Sterling Publishers Pvt. Ltd., Copyright © Dr. Viney Kirpal 2025. Reproduced With Permissions.
About the Editor: Dr. Viney Kirpal is a heart transplant recipient (2018) and a former Professor of English and Head of the Humanities and Social Sciences Department at IIT Bombay (1974-1997).