Break the Cycle: Support Women Behind Bars and Children on the Streets

I still remember the day that changed me forever. Inside a small prison cell, a woman sat across from me. She was not very old, but her eyes carried a lifetime of exhaustion. She spoke very little. And then she said something that broke me from within: “My sentence will end one day… but what about my daughter? Who will explain to her that her mother was not a criminal, just helpless?” In that moment, I stopped seeing a prisoner. I saw a mother. I saw fear, shame, and a silent plea for dignity. I walked out of that jail with a heaviness in my chest that refused to leave.

A few days later, on a cold evening, I saw children sleeping on a footpath. Torn blankets, empty stomachs, and a sky that did not care. One little boy was patting his younger brother to sleep. He was barely old enough to understand life, yet responsibility had already stolen his childhood. His eyes were awakened not with dreams, but with survival. That night, I could not sleep. The faces of that mother and that child kept returning to me. I realised something: pain, when witnessed closely, becomes a responsibility.

I am not a hero. I am just a human being. But sometimes, humanity does not let you stay comfortable. I could have told myself that this was not my fight, that the system would take care of it. But when suffering stands in front of you and you choose to look away, that silence feels like a crime. That restless night turned into a promise, a vow that I would not remain a silent spectator. That vow became my mission.

That is how Apna Trust, founded by Swecchha Srivastava, was born – not out of ambition, but out of anguish. I began working with women inside prisons, offering counselling, legal guidance, and skill development. I wanted them to understand that their mistake or their circumstances do not define their entire identity. A woman is more than her worst chapter. I sat with them, listened to their stories, and slowly saw something powerful return to their eyes: hope.

But my journey did not stop at prison walls. The children of these women, and the countless children on footpaths, needed more than sympathy. They needed structure, education, nutrition, and emotional care. Through Apna Trust, we started connecting them to schools, ensuring regular meals, and building a support system that tells them they matter. Every child who moves from begging to holding a book, every woman who rises from despair to dignity – that is our real victory.

This work is vast. The needs are endless. The resources are limited. There are days when the weight feels overwhelming. But then I remember that mother’s trembling voice. I remember that little boy fighting sleep because responsibility would not let him rest. And I know why I began. I know why I cannot stop.

I cannot do this alone. This is not charity; this is collective responsibility. If you believe that every woman deserves a second chance and every child deserves a real childhood, then stand with me. Your support – whether through resources, time, or simply raising your voice – can turn helplessness into hope. Change does not belong to one person. It belongs to all of us. And I have chosen to dedicate my life to making sure that no woman is defined only by her past, and no child is forced to grow up on a pavement instead of in a classroom.