"Radhika", 32, has been at Sahara since 2005 with her two-and-a-half-year old daughter, "Ajna", who is also HIV positive. She also has a 10 year old son. Radhika was married in 1994. She describes her husband as a "vagabond...he used to drink and beat me...he did nothing for a living." Radhika rolled bidis (cigarettes) at home for sale in a store, earning 150 to 200 rupees a week (three or four dollars). She found out she was HIV positive when she was pregnant with Ajna and went for a prenatal check-up. At the time, she didn't know anything about the disease. In 2004, her husband became very ill, lost a lot of weight, and died. Afterwards, Radhika struggled to feed herself and her children. In 2005 she became very sick, with lesions, scabies and rashes all over her face and elsewhere. Thereafter she was referred to Sahara .

Radhika's son lives with her mother in law, and her sister comes to visit, but otherwise she doesn't get help from her family. "I feel free here inside Sahara," she says with a smile. "I will cry if I leave this place. I have got love and care here that I've not gotten for many years. In my family's home nobody used to even touch us. Here you will hold my child in your lap, I feel nice." Like many of the clients here, Radhika says it is very important for people to realize the ways you can and cannot contract HIV. "Also, I want people to know that we need love and affection more than anything else. I can make my own food, I can make my own living, but we need other people to love and accept us."

"Pratap", 35, came to Sahara in 2005 with his wife "Sita", 28, and their two sons, 9 and 7. Pratap was infected before his marriage. From birth, their older son had many illnesses and developmental problems, and both he and Sita were tested and found to be positive. Their younger son is not infected.

In 2005, the family became very ill with pneumonia, headache, diarrhea, and oral thrush infections that would not go down even with government-supplied antibiotics. Pratap used to be a prosperous vegetable vendor and he smiles when he talks about taking his children to restaurants and the movies. When the family became sick, he gradually spent his life savings of 2 1/2 lakhs (250,000 Rs, or $6000 US) and even sold his wife's gold jewellery. The children had to stop going to school.

With the help of another NGO, the family obtained free antiretroviral drugs from the government and began to recover. But then their neighbours noticed volunteers coming to their house and recognized the AIDS symbols on their caps. Storekeepers began to shun them. Neighbours would shout at them in the street. Finally, the landlord threw them out. The family went to stay with Pratap's parents, who told them to sleep outside, on the terrace, and not to use the parents' bathroom. After only ten days, they asked them to leave altogether. "'If you stay here, we'll also get sick,' they said. I tried to tell them this is not how you get AIDS. But they are totally closed," says Pratap through an interpreter.

When the family came to Sahara, they were emotionally distraught and exhausted. Now, Sita is about to begin work as a counsellor to other people living with HIV and AIDS. Their dream is to once again live independently as a family. "I would like to tell people everywhere that your care and support can help others and give them a better future," Sita says through an interpreter.

Savita, 25, came to Sahara in the fall of 2005. She used to make chapattis in a college dining hall for 600 rupees a month (roughly $13). She was married and had two children, but her husband was killed three years ago in a road accident. In September 2005, during a festival, she fell very ill and was paralyzed in all four limbs. Her brother and sister took care of her, but when they found out she was infected with HIV, they and their spouses began to quarrel over keeping her. "If you stay, we'll get infected," they would say.

After coming to Sahara, with medication and physical therapy, Savita recovered the use of her right side. Today she is walking and performing many tasks independently. But she misses her daughter and son, now 10 and 3, and her family, though they visit; remain ambivalent about caring for her. "Why are my brothers and sisters treating me like this? Why aren't they coming to see me? When I ask to come home, they say, 'who will take you to the toilet and this and that---you'd better stay there.'" (Sahara staff does a lot of outreach to families to maintain relationships. In addition to the residents, about 40 outpatients are currently cared for by relatives.)

Savita's dream is to live on her own again. "I will get well, both my hands will get better, I will take a small house and have my children with me and do whatever I can within my capabilities. That's the only thing I'm thinking about, I want to get well so I can feed my children."

Avinash, 35, grew up in a family of five brothers. He left school after primary school, and then worked in a mattress shop. He never married. About four years ago, Avinash began to feel very sick and weak and lost a lot of weight. He was sent to Sahara, where he was tested. At the time, he knew there was a sickness called HIV/AIDS, but nothing else about it. Avinash's family used to take care of him, but they would cover their noses and mouths with their shirts when they gave him food or even spoke to him. "I started to get very tensed up emotionally. I thought I was going to kill myself under a lorry or a train. Even my mother and brothers used to say, 'sit aside, don't talk to me.'" To this day, when Avinash goes home for a visit, he has to sleep outside in his brother's auto rickshaw.

When Avinash arrived at Sahara, he needed help even to bathe or go to the bathroom. Now he is much bigger and stronger. He is so grateful for the care he received here that when he recovered, he decided to stay and work. He runs errands, brings chai and escorts clients to the doctor. He also counsels clients with his own story of recovery. "I tell them, look at the positive in life, do some work, and don't be dependent."

"Amrita", 27, is the daughter of a road layer from a family of five sisters. She married at age 13 to a man who drank and beat her. While he was in a rage one day, he struck at her and her infant son, who fell against a wall and died. She was 16.

In 2002, after giving birth to another son, Amrita began to feel very ill with fever, cough and weakness in her limbs. Both she and her husband were tested and found to be HIV positive, and the marriage ended. Amrita's family took care of her at first, but after her mother died, her sisters sold the family's house and gave her nothing. She and her two sons were forced to live on the footpaths of Pune and beg for a living. In early 2006, a welfare society brought her to Sahara, while her sons went to stay at a boarding school. Sahara provides funds for her to visit them, but thinking of them brings tears to her eyes.

"I prefer to stay here than any other place," Amrita says of Sahara . "They picked me up from the street and gave me a new life." Now that she is feeling better, Amrita also helps care for other clients in turn. "I feed them, bathe them, talk to them, and wash their clothes in the washing machine. I motivate them, saying this is not the end of your life. You have a long way to go and you will live longer with a positive mind."

Nand, 50, is one of several transgender women who have come to Sahara . In India, "hijras" or men living as women often survive by going around to businesses in groups to collect money. Nand left home at 15 and has been living this way ever since, in a community of three or four hundred.

In September 2006, Nand felt very ill with diarrhoea, a fever, and joint inflammation and was visiting the doctor all the time. The doctor did an HIV test, but only informed Nand's nephews of the result. Nand saw the report by accident. Nand has seen many other transgender people who are HIV positive, since they look after each other. One patient said, "you'll get a good rest at Sahara ." Nand is happy here because of the good food, regular medicine and kind treatment. She calls one of the directors "Uncle" and says "If people like Uncle are here, things are all right." Also, Nand says, "My brother and sister come to visit me here. Before I would see them only on festivals, so our relationship has improved."