As part of my work with Quwat-e-Aman, an NGO dedicated to making affordable prosthetics
accessible to amputees across Pakistan, I had the privilege of speaking with Murad Ali Shah, a
brave young boy from Sargodha, Punjab. Murad’s story is both heartbreaking and inspiring—a
testament to the resilience of the human spirit in the face of adversity. Below is an excerpt from
our conversation.
Moiz: Do you remember the day you lost your arm, Murad?
Murad: [Pauses, looking down at his feet] Yes, I remember it very well. It was a normal day, just
like any other. I was playing outside with my friend, racing on our bikes. We were laughing,
having fun… and then, it happened so quickly. I didn’t see the wire; it was hanging low, almost at
my knee. I felt something sharp, like a jolt of lightning, and then… everything went dark. I woke
up in the hospital, and that’s when they told me they had to take my arm. I couldn’t believe it at
first; it felt like a bad dream. But now, I’ve learned to live with it, even though it’s hard
sometimes.*
Moiz: Have you thought about getting a prosthetic arm?
Murad: [Nods] Yes, I’ve thought about it a lot. When I first lost my arm, I tried to do everything I
used to—writing with my other hand, riding my bike—but it wasn’t the same. My parents have
tried to get me a prosthetic, but it’s so expensive. My father works really hard, but we can’t
afford something like that. I’ve heard about a company called Bioniks in Karachi that makes
prosthetics, and I wish I could get one from them someday. It would mean the world to me to be
able to ride my bike again, to write like I used to. But until then, I’m just grateful that I have my
parents. They’ve been there for me every step of the way, and that makes me feel lucky, even
with everything that’s happened.*
Moiz: Did your parents report the incident to the higher authorities?
Murad: [Sighs] Yes, they did. They were really upset, and they wanted to make sure this didn’t
happen to anyone else. They filed complaints with FESCO and the Punjab Police, and even
hired a lawyer to take the case to court. They demanded that FESCO pay for my healthcare and
a prosthetic arm, but the compensation they gave us was only 100,000 PKR. It wasn’t nearly
enough to cover everything. At least they fixed the wire after the accident, but it feels like too
little, too late. My parents are still fighting, though, because they want justice—not just for me,
but for anyone else who might get hurt like I did.*