Why a toy drive honouring the Chaar Sahibzaade means so much to me

A childhood shaped by cancer, Sikh history, and the power of compassion brought me to this moment.

Every December, the Sikh community gathers in deep remembrance — honouring the Chaar Sahibzaade, the four young sons of Guru Gobind Singh Ji, whose courage in the face of unimaginable brutality became a guiding light for generations.

This year, as I revisit their history, I find myself thinking of another group of children: those spending their holidays in hospital beds at SickKids. Children fighting battles of their own — quiet, painful, exhausting ones — battles I know far too well.

December carries a particular weight for Sikhs. It is a month not only to remember sacrifice, but to reflect on the values that shape our lives: courage, faith, resilience, and Chardikala — the spirit of relentless optimism even in the face of suffering. The Sahibzaade teach us that courage has no age, that principles can outweigh fear, and that love for humanity can endure even in moments of tragedy.

It is this spirit that connects history to our present. Just as the Sahibzaade faced impossible trials with unshakable strength, children in hospitals today face battles few can fully understand — yet their courage shines just as brightly.

Growing up between two worlds

My journey with leukemia began as a child at the Post Graduate Institute of Medical Education & Research (PGI Chandigarh). I remember the first time I realized that needles, blood tests, and long hospital stays would define my life. Chemotherapy became routine — not just treatment, but the rhythm of my childhood.

It left me weak, nauseous, sometimes too tired to sit up. Yet I learned to find small victories in the smallest moments: a good blood count, a nurse’s smile, a short visit from home, a flicker of laughter. Steroids reshaped my body and my moods; radiation drained energy but brought hope — the faint promise that I could survive.

Days blurred together: machines beeping, fluorescent lights, endless bloodwork, waiting for results that could change everything. Fear became familiar. So did bravery.

But I was never alone.

My mom sat beside me through every needle, every scan, every long night. My dad watched over me quietly. My older sister slipped in between treatments with jokes, hugs, and the kind of love only a sibling can offer. My grandparents visited with the warmth only they could give.

After-treatment Therapy

After returning home from PGI, my grandfather became my quiet refuge. I slept beside him, enveloped in the rhythm of his breathing, the soft creak of his chair beside the bed. Even after long days caring for my great-grandfather, he stayed up with me — never rushing, never weary.

He shared his life as a 1947 Punjab Partition survivor, teaching resilience through stories of rebuilding, survival, and hope. But it wasn’t just his stories. It was the games.

Phabhi, Ludo, Snakes and Ladders, chess, cards — these simple diversions became our playground. For a few hours, I wasn’t a patient hooked to IV poles. I was a kid laughing with my grandfather. Those moments stitched warmth into some of the coldest, most isolating nights of my life.

My grandpa passed away last October. I am now writing a memoir dedicated to him and my story, because some bonds deserve to live forever. His influence still guides me — and fuels my commitment to bring joy to children facing what I once faced.

Immigrant life in Canada and SickKids

After immigrating to Canada, SickKids became my new long-term medical home. Surviving cancer didn’t end with finishing treatment; it became a lifelong journey. Regular scans, blood tests, and check-ups reminded me that survivorship is not a single victory, but a process of patience, vigilance, and gratitude.

Over time, the hospital walls became familiar to me. I learned the rhythm of beeping monitors, the quiet hum of hallways, and the subtle gestures of care from nurses who knew exactly when to offer reassurance. Doctors explained treatments patiently; staff provided small comforts — a tucked blanket, a joke, a quiet word — that made the hardest days lighter.

Even as an adult attending follow-ups at a different hospital, I cannot forget the people who shaped my journey at SickKids. Their dedication taught me that hope is often quiet, consistent, and unwavering.

So when I see a child today at SickKids — anxious, tired, clinging to courage they shouldn’t have to summon alone — I see my younger self. I know the echo of the Sahibzaade: children facing unimaginable trials with unimaginable strength.

A Serendipitous Connection

They say the universe works in mysterious ways. Whether by chance or something greater, I found myself involved with the Sahibzaade Toy Drive.

A chance encounter on social media led me to connect with the organizer of the drive. I had met Guneet Kaur, a Khalsa Aid volunteer and healthcare professional, at a Khalsa Aid event. When she reached out, she was looking for someone to help manage the drive’s social media. Unknowingly, she tapped into my own personal connection to the cause. I accepted her invitation to help without hesitation.

Seva has always been part of my life. Helping this drive felt natural — to lend my voice, my skills, and my energy to bring joy to children in need.

Weeks into the project, during a Zoom call, a story was shared about a “Code Blue,” a hospital emergency. Her words — the urgency, the courage, the quiet humanity — transported me back to nights in hospital rooms, IVs in my arms, waiting for results that could change everything. The fear, the uncertainty, the exhaustion — it all came rushing back.

I decided to share my story with the team. And in that moment, having dived headfirst into this project without second thought, I realized how deeply my personal connection had become my driving force for this cause, and for these kids.

The universe had connected me perfectly. From that day on, volunteer work became personal, sacred, and deeply meaningful.

Every post, story, and campaign update became a way to honour the courage of children at SickKids, the lessons of the Sahibzaade, and the values that have carried me through life: resilience, compassion, and faith in the power of service.

The Sahibzaade Legacy

Guru Gobind Singh’s four sons, the Chaar Sahibzaade, showed the world that courage and determination have no age. Baba Ajit Singh Ji and Baba Jujhar Singh Ji rode into the Battle of Chamkaur Sahib, vastly outnumbered but fearless. Baba Zoravar Singh Ji and Baba Fateh Singh Ji, 9 and 7, refused wealth and safety in Sirhind, choosing faith and principles over life itself.

Their courage reminds us to hold our heads high in adversity, remain steadfast in our values, and extend warmth and hope to those who need it most. The Sahibzaade Toy Drive carries forward that spirit — turning remembrance into action, compassion into service, and history into hope for children navigating their own battles.

I remember my own hospital room clearly: small, muted walls, a tiny TV flickering in the corner, and an IV hooked to my arm. Hours stretched endlessly, but a toy, a book, or a small game transformed the space. It became a place where I could laugh, imagine, and still be a child.

That is why this Toy Drive matters — every child deserves that spark of joy, a momentary escape, and a reminder that they are still allowed to be kids.

If you can give, even a little, please give.

Donate a toy.

Share the campaign.

Tell a friend.

Spread the word.

Show a child fighting for their life that the world has not forgotten them.

A toy will not cure an illness. But a moment of joy can carry a child through some of their darkest hours.

🎁 Donate a NEW, unwrapped toy to any official drop-off location across the Greater Toronto Area.
📧 For high-value or bulk donations: sahibzaadatoydrive@gmail.com
💛 Follow the Toy Drive: @sahibzaadatoydrive

Together, we can carry forward the courage, compassion, and resilience of the Sahibzaade — turning remembrance into action, and history into hope.

Share your thoughts, tell your story, and join us in turning remembrance into action.