Het verhaal van Prema Latha

Prema Latha ze was nog maar 1 jaar toen haar ouders gingen scheiden. In India betekent dit dat je praktisch opgroeit als een semi-wees. Haar iets oudere broer werd gestoken door een schorpioen toen hij vijf jaar was. Omdat hij niet de juiste medische hulp kreeg overleed hij. Haar moeder ging werken als assistant in de keuken in Vandavasi en in Acharapakkam. Vanwege haar uitstekende kookkunsten werd ze gevraagd om de maaltijden te verzorgen op het hoofdkwartier van de zusters. Moeder slaapt in een kamer achter de keuken. Gedurende deze periode werd Prema Latha opgevoed door haar grootvader. Na haar lagere school startte ze een opleiding als “Lab Technician” met de hulp van de Thomas Micro Credit Foundation en momenteel werkt ze in het Thomas Hospitaal en verblijft in het hostel. Prema Latha verdient nu een salaris en kan daarvan de lening terug betalen en bouwt ze aan haar toekomst om voor haar moeder te kunnen zorgen.

 

In a quiet village where the sun rose over dusty rooftops and the scent of jasmine lingered in the air, a baby girl named Prema Latha took her first breath—unaware that life had already begun to test her spirit.
She was just one year old when her parents' marriage crumbled like dry earth in a drought. Her mother, once full of dreams, was left to pick up the pieces with a baby in her arms and sorrow in her eyes. But fate wasn’t done. One day, Prema’s older brother was stung by a scorpion. The venom raced through his veins faster than help could arrive. The hospital was too far, the money too little. He died in her mother’s arms—his tiny body a casualty of poverty, not poison.
Grief-stricken but unbroken, Prema’s mother found work in the kitchens of Vandavasi and Acharapakkam. Her hands, though calloused, created meals that whispered of home and healing. Her cooking was so soulful that the sisters at the local headquarters asked her to stay and cook for them. But this meant she had to live behind the kitchen, in a small room that smelled of spices and sacrifice.

Prema was raised by her grandfather, a quiet man with eyes like old rivers—deep, tired, and full of stories he never told. She grew up watching her mother sleep on a thin mat after long days of labor, never once complaining, never once giving up.
Life had given Prema every reason to fall—but she chose to rise.
She left school, not out of defeat, but with a purpose. With the help of the Thomas Foundation for Micro Credits, she trained as a lab technician. It wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t easy. But it was hers. A path carved not by privilege, but by perseverance.

Today, Prema walks the halls of Thomas Hospital in a crisp white coat. She lives in a hostel, earns her own salary, and repays the loan that once opened the door to her future. She no longer dreams of survival—she dreams of thriving. Of caring for her mother the way her mother once cared for her, with quiet strength and boundless love.