In a small alley on the outskirts of Lucknow, everyone knows that Mr. Babulal—a 70-year-old, frail, stooped-backed man—works hard every day to care for his orphaned granddaughter, Anaya, who is only 10 years old. Anaya’s father works far away in Mumbai, and her mother died before she could even remember his face. Grandpa is her sole support.

The entire neighborhood sympathizes with the sight of their mutual dependence. Every morning, he takes Anaya’s hand and guides her to the end of the alley for an auto-rickshaw to school; in the afternoon, he works hard making dal-roti and tutoring her with her homework. His love for Anaya is palpable.

However, one hot afternoon in early autumn, Mrs. Lata, a neighbor, came to visit and was shocked to see a sight that terrified her.

Mr. Babulal’s door was half open. She was about to go in and call him when she heard him whisper loudly:

“Anaya, don’t sleep… wake up, don’t scare Grandpa…”

Through the crack in the door, she saw him holding his grandson tightly in his arms, trembling and calling for him incessantly, while Anaya lay quietly, her face pale. Mrs. Lata was shocked, her heart pounding. Horrifying thoughts flashed through her mind: an old man alone at home with his grandson, and now he was lying unconscious in her arms… how strange!

Without thinking much, she tremblingly dialed 112 to report a “danger sign” at the neighbor’s house and asked for the PCR van and ambulance 108 to arrive.

Ten minutes later, the police and ambulance arrived. The entire street was thrown into chaos. Curious people gathered and whispered suspiciously.

“Did that old man do something to you?”

“Oh my God, this looks so scary…”

The door opened. Before their eyes, Mr. Babulal was holding Anaya, his face covered in sweat and his eyes red. Seeing the doctor and police, he called out in panic…

“Save my child! He’s been unconscious since morning. I’ve been shaking him, but he won’t wake up!”

The medical staff quickly examined him. A few minutes later, they breathed a sigh of relief:

“The child has severe hypoglycemia. He needs to be taken to the hospital immediately!”

The crowd screamed. The previous suspicions suddenly turned to embarrassment. People looked at each other, regretting thinking ill of the old man so quickly.

Tears welled up in Mr. Babulal’s eyes, and he trembled as he ran to the stretcher:
— “Because I’m poor, I don’t have enough money to buy nutritious food… This morning she said she was full, I thought it was true, who would have thought…”

At KGMU – King George’s Medical University (Lucknow), after timely emergency treatment, Anaya slowly regained consciousness. The little girl looked at him with tired eyes and whispered:
— “Don’t cry, I’m fine… I’m just tired…”

She hugged her grandson tightly, her voice choking:
— “Grandpa was so scared… I thought he had lost me. Grandpa, I’m all alone…”

The doctor explained: Anaya has congenital type 1 diabetes, requiring a special diet and blood sugar monitoring; otherwise, dangerous hypoglycemia was inevitable. Hearing this, Mr. Babulal was stunned: he was old, frail, and had little money, and now his grandson’s illness—the difficulties had only increased.

Just then, Mrs. Lata stepped forward and held his hand tightly:

“I’m sorry for the misunderstanding… but thankfully, the ambulance arrived on time. From now on, you’re not alone. The whole neighborhood will take care of her.”

He turned and looked into her serious eyes. She nodded slightly; her eyes were still wet with tears, but her heart warmed.

After that incident, the people in the neighborhood loved Anaya even more: some gave her rice, some money; the chemist provided blood glucose test strips; the ward’s ASHA worker explained how to deal with hypoglycemia; the school arranged for separate meals and instructed teachers to recognize the symptoms of hypoglycemia and provide timely treatment.

Gradually, the story died down, but whenever she remembered her initial suspicions, Mrs. Lata would shudder. She told her neighbors:

“Sometimes it’s easy to misjudge others. But Mr. Babulal’s love for her—no one can deny that.”

Since then, the image of the hunchbacked grandfather holding his granddaughter’s hand and leading her to school has become a fond symbol in that small street. And it was the call to 112 that day, “due to a misunderstanding,” that saved Anaya’s life and strengthened the bond between the village and the neighborhood.