It was the beginning of summer holidays. Schools had closed, and there was a little break from the fast life of the city. Maya—a smart and aware 13-year-old girl—came from Delhi to a small village named Basantpur to spend her holidays with her grandmother.
Basantpur was full of the scent of soil. In the evening, the sound of bicycle bells and oxen's bells rang together. Children sat by the canal eating flatbread with mango pickle, and in the evening gatherings, the elders told stories. Maya loved this simple life. But something in the village made her feel uneasy deep inside.
The way the village treated health and sickness felt strange and painful to Maya. People here didn’t go to hospitals even for serious illnesses. They believed that the "Bhoot-Baba" sitting under the old peepal tree outside the village could cure everything—with a few spells, some ash, and chants.
“Are there no doctors here? Only Baba?” Maya asked her grandmother in surprise one day.
Her grandmother smiled and said, “Dear, it’s our tradition. It’s been like this since our ancestors’ time.”
Maya didn’t reply, but a question kept bothering her—Should we follow a tradition even if it's wrong?
One evening, while the village kids were playing, Maya noticed that little Bulbul, the sweet girl who always held her finger, was missing. When she asked around, she found out that Bulbul had a high fever.
Maya ran to Bulbul’s house. The girl was shivering, her face was red, and her body was burning with fever. Her mother was sitting nearby, preparing for a healing ritual.
“Aunty, why don’t you take her to the hospital?” Maya asked with worry.
“Beta, Baba will fix everything. Going to the doctor wastes time and money,” her mother replied, as if she was fully sure.
Maya was shocked. She tried to explain, “Aunty, this fever could be something serious. It's important to see a doctor.”
But Bulbul’s mother said, “You’ve come from the city. You don’t understand how things work here.”
Maya said nothing, but a storm was raging in her heart.
That night, when everyone was asleep, Maya secretly called Dr. Verma, a doctor from the nearby town who knew her family. She cried and told him everything. The doctor promised to come soon.
Around midnight, Maya quietly brought Dr. Verma to Bulbul’s house. At first, Bulbul’s mother was scared, but Maya begged her—“Please, just let him check once. Then do whatever you want.”
Dr. Verma checked Bulbul. She had a viral fever, and without timely treatment, it could have become worse. He gave her medicine and gave some important advice before leaving.
The next day, like a miracle, Bulbul’s fever was gone. She smiled, stood up, and held Maya’s finger again.
When the villagers heard about what Maya had done, there was an uproar.
“Doctor instead of Baba? This is a bad omen!”
“Now trouble will come to the village…”
Some even said Maya should be sent away from her grandmother’s house.
But Maya wasn’t scared. She stood in front of everyone and said: “What if something bad had happened to Bulbul? Should we close our eyes just to follow traditions? Healing comes from science, not magic. You all saw—Bulbul got better in one day. If we all come together to change, no child will have to suffer without treatment.”
There was silence in the village gathering.
Slowly, some women stepped forward. One said, “It’s true… My son also had a fever for three days. We took him to the Baba. I wish I had gone to a doctor…”
Within a few days, Dr. Verma was invited to the village. He set up a small health camp. Maya taught children about the importance of vaccination, hygiene, and nutrition. The same villagers who were once angry at Maya were now standing with her.
Now, whenever someone gets sick, the first visit is to the hospital. The “Bhoot-Baba” is now only a story. Under the peepal tree, there is no more ash or fire—but Maya got a small signboard placed there:
“Illness needs a doctor, not fear.”
A few years later…
Basantpur is not the same village anymore. Now, there is a health camp every month. The government has built a small health center there. And Maya—now a medical student—visits during holidays to teach kids about health and science.
Now the villagers proudly say, “Our Maya was the first light in the darkness of blind belief.”
Moral:
Superstition brings fear, but when knowledge and awareness come together, even the deepest darkness can be defeated.
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See you with the next story. Until then, goodbye!
