Ghanva grips the baby’s back in her cupped hand, balancing him firmly atop an old pink towel. With the other hand, she lathers soapy water over his body.

It is a hot, dry day in rural Sindh. Beside Ghanva's charpai is a line of three more women. They sit cross-legged, or with bare feet touching the ground. One of them waves her hands above a sleeping child whose mouth is open. A fly is glued to his face, and several others hover above his face noisily.

From their charpais along an open corridor attached to the house, the women can look out to the rest of the village. For shade there is a thatched roof, but sun rays make their way through, as do flies, the smell of cow-dung, and the sounds of animals, children, and men.

Cows and goats roam idly around, as children run bare foot with unwashed hair. Open defecation and cooking food lie within ten feet of each other.

Men and women wander around the fields, working at a slow pace. One woman darts across a dirt path with a half-dressed child who has no pants on.

Abdul Jabbar was born less than a month ago and is getting his special daily bath. The same luxury is not afforded to Ghanva’s two older children

The towel isn’t large enough

As Ghanva washes the newborn, water spills around her, soaking through the charpai and gathering in puddles on the ground. The amulet around the baby’s neck is drenched.

“It protects my child,” Ghanva explains afterwards. Abdul Jabbar isn’t the only one; the older children shuffling in between the beds, the women and the babies, all sport an amulet tied around a black thread.

Ghanva smiles at another woman who hands her a new bar of soap, unwrapping its cover ceremoniously. It is one of the few new purchases among the objects spread on the charpai: a basket filled with baby-sized hand-me-downs, a large box of cream, and scraps of cloths.

Most mothers in her village recycle their clothes. During winter it gets difficult—there aren’t enough layers to keep the children warm. New-borns often catch pneumonia, or frequently end up with fever and diarrhea.

Infectious diseases such as pneumonia, diarrhea and malaria are the leading killers of children under age five. Roughly 44% of deaths in children under five occur during the neonatal period

Global cause of death among children under age 5

Ghanva stretches the pink towel, and roughly dries Abdul Jabbar’s body with the towel. She then pulls on an orange tunic, and a tattered woolen cap on his head.

The child is almost ready.

Placing a finger on the baby’s forehead, she runs a kohl stick expertly across his eyes with her other hand. An older girl, who has been standing by the charpai for a while looks on, fascinated by the whole affair.

The kohl is harmful, but Ghanva insists it protects her child from evil

Children fall sick too often

As in other villages across rural Sindh, many babies suffer and die in the first 28 days after they are born since there is little awareness and medical assistance.

Abdul Jabbar was delivered at two in the morning, Ghanva remembers. They had to manage with the dai from the nearby village, who used a razor blade to cut the umbilical cord.

She understands there are many health precautions that could have been taken during the birth, and now, during these critical days. She knows washing her hands and not using cow dung could save her child from falling ill.

But there is no firewood in the village, and no one to go cut it either. Dry cow dung is her only fuel for cooking, and for heating the water for the baby’s bath.

Once the second eye is finished, Ghanva settles back satisfactorily. The child is ready.

Lady Health Workers have told the women they must wash their hands with soap before touching the children, and before cooking. But what can they do when clean water isn’t an option?

“What difference will cleaning my hands make when the water contains arsenic?”, Ghanva asks matter-of-factly.

She admits she could be more careful by picking a secluded spot to wash Abdul Jabbar, but the only two bathrooms in the village are a decent walk away, and even then, there is no running water.

One edge of their land is bordered by a resting river... but that water is also dirty.

Abdul Jabbar's first 28 days were photographed by Malika Abbas

A WARM BATH

Madiha lowers her newborn baby into his bath-tub just as he bursts into tears.

“The water is warm,” she says in way of explanation, cupping one hand around the baby’s head. With the other, she gently plays with the baby’s clenched fists as his body acclimatises to the water.

“The warmth decreases his swelling,” Usman, the father, points out helpfully. He watches carefully as his wife adjusts the child in the tub. Five day old Hayyan is tiny, and his legs don’t even reach the tub’s edges.

The family home is located in Karachi's PECHS, up four flights of stairs. The room Hayyan is being bathed in is patterned in soft hues. A light yellow bed sheet covers the bed where his mother sits before the tub.

Surrounding her are all the essentials: diapers, powder, a bottle and baby-sized clothes in yellow, white and pink.

Before starting the bath, both parents washed their hands thoroughly with soap. They have made it a careful ritual for every occasion before picking the baby up or touching his skin.

“Look, he is learning how to swim,” Madiha says excitedly.

With half his body submerged in water, the child has calmed down and is staring wide-eyed at his mother. Madiha gathers some water in her cupped palm and sprinkles it over his skin. Hayyan kicks his legs again and Usman laughs in agreement: he is probably learning to swim.

After giving him his sponge bath, Madiha places Hayyan atop a fresh yellow towel. Both parents help wrap it around him, and dry him gently. They move from each step of dressing him to the next with renewed focus and care.

Hayyan’s crying and the sounds of the diaper crumpling are the only noises in the room, aside from the parents’ constant expressions of affection.

Madiha pulls on a soft white undershirt, then eases the baby into his brand-new yellow romper. She gently buttons him up while Usman kisses his child’s forehead and adjusts his baby-sized collar.

Hayyan's first 28 days were photographed by Arif Mahmood

TOUCH

Maliha Shuja is used to her baby bawling during times like these, so laughs when the newborn shrieks ever louder.

“No no my child,” Maliha's husband says jovially, trying to distract his daughter from the discomfort of a clothes-change.

"Taking Eeshal’s clothes off is the biggest battle," Maliha adds.

Eeshal was born less than a month ago, turning the couple's life upside down. People had often scared Maliha before, she recalls, but she was quite ready.

“Everything changes when the child comes,” Maliha starts. “You have to take extreme precautions.”

The room they sit in is stark clean. Maliha says babies make bigger messes than one can plan for. Vomit, spit and bodily fluids… everything has to be washed, re-washed, and constantly cleaned.

“We make sure we wash our hands when we come from outside,” she says. After all, her daughter is completely dependent on her.

While being a parent is a big responsibility, Eeshal's mom has been preparing for a while. Nothing comes as a huge surprise as such, but it took time to adjust into a routine.

“Cleanliness is the most important thing,” Maliha firmly believes. The room must be dusted, the bottles warmed and sanitized, and diapers discarded properly. Water too, has to be boiled every time.

Eeshal's first 28 days were photographed by Tapu Javeri

Infinite love

Abdul Jabbar in the heart of Sindh, Hayyan and Eeshal in Karachi, are held close in the arms of their mothers. Each child is equally precious to their doting parent.

Maliha holds Eeshal up to her bosom to calm the crying infant down. It works. Mother and daughter both smile as they sit in matching pink clothes in their spacious room. The moment is quiet, serene.

Madiha wraps a soft white blanket tight around freshly-bathed, newly-dressed Hayyan. She is meticulous, carefully checking, then double-checking that her child is safe and comfortable. She rocks him slowly, picking up rhythm to prepare her child for sleep.

Ghanva wraps Abdul Ghaffar's arms and legs with an old dupatta, and touches his face with her hands.

“Gently, gently,” a man advises her in Sindhi.

She laughs and pulls the wrapped baby closer to her. The child is hungry. She lifts her dress and adjusts her body so the baby can feed as she cradles him.

Love binds them all together.

There is nothing each mother wouldn't do for their little ones.

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The first 28 days can help a child reach 5

Lifebuoy has adopted 31 neo-natal clinics across Sindh and educated thousands of mothers about the importance of hygiene in the neo-natal period. The visual portrayal of baby Eeshal, Hayyan and Abdul Jabbar's first 28 days of life is another initiative to create awareness about the cause.

With each book sold, Lifebuoy doubles the proceeds and donates to NICH, for neo-natal care. You can support the cause by purchasing the book on Kitabein.com.