I once thought I can never be a friend until my mommy told me that I make a great friend to
I recall that moment – the place was Virginia, it was bedtime, the hotel room was dark. My
mom had cried the whole day. We were there for my training and got bad news about the
death of my dear Dadi**.
I was sad but she was shaken. I was the only one around her. I noticed that my mom spoke to
me even if she got no response from my side. I felt bad for her and curled up next to her.
Somehow, she heard me and told me words I had never heard before – “HASAN, YOU MAKE A
GREAT FRIEND!”. That minute I got every bit of hope that I will have a friend or two.
Friends like me yearn for love and standby in ways we can.
We flap our arms; we look away at times.
We flop on the floor sometimes; we look blank too.
But try being a friend and you will seem surprised that we listen, we hug, we play, we get goofy,
we care, we feel.
Is true friendship all of this and more?
Tell me openly, I am here.



**Note by parent: Dadi refers to his paternal grandmother in Hindi.
Hasan was only asked by the parent about what he would like this article to be called. With just that question at
the beginning of the exercise, the whole piece is typed by Hasan letter by letter, without any external prompts or
suggestions. He wrote this across days. He used every possible opportunity to communicate despite all the
challenges and sensory distractions the body offered.

Hasan Ahmed

About the Author

Call him “H”.
“H” likes good people, stories and travel.
“H” can hear.
“H” can listen.
“H” can question.
“H” can learn.
“H” can openly discuss.
“H” can play.
“H” can make mistaking-ly horrible boo-boos.
What works with “H” is some trust, love and laughter.
Next time you see me, try trusting my words. Not my body.

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