Little Aalin. Why did she die?

Her parents transformed their grief into an act of life-giving generosity. Her organs now beat, breathe, and live in other children. It is a profound legacy. But it is also a legacy that should never have been necessary.

By Binu Mathew

The death of ten-month-old Aalin Sherin Abraham in a road accident in Kerala is a tragedy that words cannot hold. It is the kind of loss that shatters families, leaving behind an emptiness no time can heal. And yet, in the midst of this unimaginable grief, Aalin’s parents made a decision that speaks to the highest form of human compassion—they chose to donate her organs, giving a second chance at life to four other children.

This act of generosity has rightly been described as heroic. But if we stop there—if we reduce Aalin’s story to one of sacrifice and resilience—we fail her.

Because beneath this tragedy lies a question that Kerala cannot afford to ignore any longer -- was this death preventable?

Reports surrounding the accident do not clearly state whether Aalin was secured in a child car seat. That absence itself is telling.

In Kerala, and across much of India, the use of child restraint systems is neither widely practiced nor legally enforced. Infants are routinely carried on laps, held in arms, or left unrestrained in moving vehicles.

Backwaters. Kerela

It is a dangerous normalisation—one that turns every sudden brake, every collision, into a potential death sentence.

If Aalin had been in a properly installed, rear-facing child car seat, would she have survived?

We may never know for certain. But global evidence is unequivocal -- child car seats significantly reduce the risk of fatal injury in accidents. According to international road safety studies, proper restraints can lower infant mortality in crashes by up to 70 per cent.

This is not a marginal difference.

This is the line between life and death.

And yet, Kerala—a state that prides itself on high literacy, progressive social indicators, and a strong public health system—has failed to act decisively on this basic aspect of child safety.

The numbers tell a grim story. Data from the Kerala Police shows a persistent and worrying rise in road accidents over the years. Thousands of accidents are reported annually, resulting in a high number of injuries and fatalities.

Even when there are fluctuations in total incidents, the scale remains alarming, with vulnerable groups—including children—bearing the brunt. Behind every statistic is a life interrupted, a family devastated.

We cannot continue to treat these deaths as inevitable. They are not.

They are the outcome of policy choices—or the lack of them.

In many countries, child restraint laws are not optional guidelines but strict legal requirements. Parents are mandated to use age-appropriate car seats, and violations attract heavy fines and penalties.

Public awareness campaigns reinforce these laws, making child safety a shared societal responsibility.

Why does Kerala lag behind? Or, other towns and cities in India?

Why do we accept a situation where a baby’s safety depends on individual awareness rather than systemic enforcement?

Why do we allow a culture where convenience overrides caution, where holding a child in one’s arms is seen as sufficient protection against the forces unleashed in a high-speed collision?

Physics does not bend to sentiment. In a crash, the human body—even that of a loving parent—cannot restrain a child against momentum. What feels protective in everyday conditions becomes dangerously inadequate in an accident.

This is not about blaming parents. It is about acknowledging a collective failure—of governance, of policy, of public discourse.

Aalin’s story forces us to confront this failure.

Her parents transformed their grief into an act of life-giving generosity. Her organs now beat, breathe, and live in other children. It is a profound legacy. But it is also a legacy that should never have been necessary.

No parent should have to find meaning in a preventable death.

If Kerala is serious about protecting its children, the path forward is clear—and urgent.

First, child car seats must be made mandatory by law. Not as a recommendation, not as an advisory, but as an enforceable requirement. Every infant and young child travelling in a car must be secured in an appropriate restraint system.

Second, enforcement must be strict and visible. Laws without enforcement are little more than words on paper. Traffic authorities must be empowered and instructed to ensure compliance, with meaningful penalties for violations.

Third, and equally important, there must be a sustained public awareness campaign. Many parents in Kerala are simply unaware of the risks or the correct use of child seats.

Education—through media, hospitals, schools, and community networks—can change behaviour. When people understand that a car seat is not a luxury but a lifesaving device, adoption will follow.

Finally, affordability and accessibility must be addressed. For some families, the cost of a quality child car seat may be a barrier. Government initiatives, subsidies, or partnerships with manufacturers can help ensure that safety is not limited to those who can afford it.

These are not radical demands. They are basic measures that align with global best practices. More importantly, they are measures that save lives.

Aalin Sherin Abraham’s story should not fade into the cycle of news, remembered briefly and then forgotten. It should mark a turning point—a moment when Kerala chose to act, to prioritise the safety of its youngest citizens.

We owe her that much.

Because every time we delay, every time we look away, we are complicit in a system that allows preventable deaths to continue. We are choosing inaction over accountability, habit over humanity.

Aalin gave life to four children. In doing so, she illuminated both the best and the worst of us—the capacity for selfless love, and the consequences of collective neglect.

Let her life, and her death, not be in vain.

Let it compel us to act.

Let it lead to laws that protect, systems that enforce, and a culture that refuses to gamble with the lives of children.

Because the true tribute to Aalin is not in mourning her loss alone—but in ensuring that no other child is lost in the same way.

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Binu Mathew is the editor of Countercurrents.org. He can be reached at editor@countercurrents.org