25 November 2009
Dr Gupta, 37, works for the Naz – Pride – organisation in Delhi, supported by DFID through the Indian government, is helping look after 45 HIV positive orphans in Naz’s care home, and at a drop-in centre for people living with HIV and AIDS. Greeted with hugs and laughter, it’s plain to see he is much loved by the children in the home. As a doctor, he is as concerned with their mental well-being and happiness as their physical health. On a poster in the wall of his office are the words: “Health is a state of complete physical, mental, social and spiritual wellbeing, not merely the absence of disease or infirmity.”
“We have to deal with difficult questions from the children in our care, questions like: Why have my parents died? Why have they left me? How long will we take these medicines? How long will we survive?
"It’s not easy, and you have to take time with the children to explain. As a rule, we tell them when they reach 10 that they are HIV positive, and what that means. If they ask if there is a cure, I say - yes. If you take your medicines and live in a good and fruitful way you will live a full life. And I say: we’re getting new medicines and maybe the day after tomorrow we will have one that cures HIV/AIDS.
“All the children here go to school, according to their needs and abilities, and they live very normally. But in many schools in India they would be refused admission. I believe things are getting better in this society: the stigma about HIV is lessening. But still some doctors won’t take care of these patients. At our drop-in centre we advise pregnant mothers who are positive on what they must ask for when they go to hospital to give birth, but still we find that frightened doctors refuse to give them caesareans, and tell them it’s best to give birth naturally, which risks infecting the baby with HIV.
“I’ll give you an example of the sort of prejudice that exists. Six months ago, we were alerted by a newspaper and we went to one of the richest suburbs of Delhi. We found this child who had effectively been imprisoned in a room, eight foot by ten foot, for four or five months. When we arrived he had a high fever, he was drenched in urine, malnourished, wrapped in a blanket full of filth. There was pus coming from his eye. Both of his parents were dead of HIV-related illness. The neighbours had done nothing except throw him scraps of food.
“We brought the child here, and examined him. He had tuberculosis in the abdominal organs and though he was about 15, he weighed only 23 kilos. He was mentally challenged – we don’t know whether that is because of living in that room. From the story we got from the neighbours, both his parents died and an NGO that runs an orphanage came and took away his brothers and sisters. But they refused to take him because he was HIV positive. We’ve contacted the NGO, because he would like very much to see his siblings, but it has not even replied.
But, today, six months later, he is so much happier [we went to talk with the boy with Dr Gupta]. He’s on anti-retroviral medicines for HIV and anti-tuberculosis treatment. His IQ is 30% below normal, so he’s been enrolled in a special school, and he’s doing very well there. He interacts with the other children here. And his weight is up to 36kg. This is a great satisfaction: this is why we do this job.
"After a day at Naz I find I have mental peace. If I’ve done something for these children, that is satisfying, far more than the satisfaction of earning money. But there is still so much to be done. In rural areas people aren’t even aware what HIV stands for. We have 43 children here, but we believe there are 40,000 HIV positive children, uncared for and untreated, hidden away in India."