By Sarada Lahangir
Beherapali/ Bargarh (Odisha): In the quiet village of Beherapali under Sohela Block in Bargarh district, the walls of a humble house echo with the silent cries of a father and the unspoken fears of a mother. Behind those walls lies a heartbreaking reality—17-year-old Rasana Nag is battling a rare and aggressive cancer called Ewing Sarcoma, a disease that eats away at the bones and soft tissues, mostly in children and adolescents.
Once a vibrant girl full of dreams, Rasana’s life changed when a painful tumor grew in her hand. Her parents, Prahallad Nag and his wife, took her to Burla Medical College and Hospital, hoping for relief. But the relief was short-lived—doctors suspected cancer. What followed was a wave of fear, confusion, and desperation.
With trembling hearts and empty pockets, the family sought solace in ‘Umeedein’, a voluntary organization that aids children battling cancer. A kind soul, Sk Gajanabi, a cancer Sahayogi of Umeedein, took up their case. On February 2, 2025, Rasana was admitted to AIIMS Bhubaneswar, where doctors confirmed the worst—she had Ewing Sarcoma.
Umeedein intervened as a protector, offering the family free food, shelter, and emotional support. Her treatment began, and she bravely received her first round of chemotherapy. But just when hope was taking root, fear returned—not of the disease, but of survival beyond the hospital walls.
Rasana’s father, Prahallad Nag, is a daily wage laborer. “If I stay with her in Bhubaneswar for a long time, who will feed my family? My wife, my home—everything runs on what I earn in a day,” he says, his eyes brimming with helplessness. The weight of a father’s love is crushing him—torn between saving his daughter and feeding his family.
Her mother, too, finds herself caught in fear. “I only speak Sambalpuri. In Bhubaneswar, I feel lost. I can’t understand the language; I can’t even ask for help. I’m scared,” she whispers, the fear of the unknown silencing the strength of a mother who once carried Rasana in her womb for nine months.
Despite efforts by cancer activists and volunteers trying to convince the family to continue the treatment at AIIMS Bhubaneswar, Prahallad and his wife now want to treat their daughter closer to home—at Burla or Bargarh.
But here’s the heartbreaking irony: even though there is a cancer hospital in Bargarh and a medical college and Hospital in Burla, they are still not fully equipped to treat patients like Rasana. Her innocent parents are questioning, “Why can’t our daughter receive treatment here?” Why do we have to travel so far?”
Isn’t it necessary to question the government’s efforts and priorities?
What’s the use of setting up hospitals if they are not made fully functional? How long will people have to suffer because of incomplete promises? Why should a poor family, already drowning in financial and emotional distress, be forced to leave their roots and run to distant cities for basic life-saving treatment?
This incident isn’t just a personal tragedy—it’s a systemic failure. Healthcare is not a luxury. It is a basic right. It should be the topmost priority of any government. Because when healthcare is ignored, lives like Rasana’s are the ones that hang in the balance.
The Biju Swasthya Kalyan Yojana (Biju Health Card) provides partial financial relief, but not enough. The rest of the burden—transportation, medicines, food, and loss of daily wages—is unbearable. Even with free accommodation and food offered by Umeedein, it’s the fear of survival and the unknown that haunts them more than cancer itself.
The story of Rasana Nag is not just about a girl fighting cancer. It is the story of countless families in rural Odisha who are caught in a tragic web of poverty, lack of healthcare infrastructure, and the invisible barrier of language.
It’s the story of a father who once celebrated his daughter’s birth by sharing sweets with neighbors, despite his poverty, now crushed by the weight of not being able to save her. It’s the story of a mother who loves her daughter deeply but is paralyzed by fear in a world where she can’t understand a word.
Before we pay attention, how many more Rasana Nags will be forced to their limits? How many more hospitals will stand tall in name but fall short in purpose? How many more families must cry for help before healthcare becomes a true priority in our policies and plans?
Let’s not allow Rasana to become just another name in a long list of avoidable tragedies. Let her story be a call—not just for treatment, but for change.
