I HAVE often been accused by friends of trotting out a set "re-entry blues" column each time I return from a trip abroad. In this, I am supposed to vent my frustration over the fact that things are worse than they were before I left.

It is true that as I returned last week after three months, nothing seems to have changed according to the newspapers: the bloodletting in Kashmir continues unabated; the economy continues to slide; accountability meanders along in its usual desultory fashion; and our leaders go on making inane statements. In short, business as usual.

But before I get down to the substance of this column, I would like to thank the scores of readers who e-mailed me to wish me luck in my coronary bypass last June. I was deeply touched by this outpouring of support and sympathy from total strangers, most of them Indian and Pakistani expatriates who read me on the Internet edition of this newspaper. As it was, the quadruple bypass seems to have been a total success, and I was extremely well looked after by the highly competent nursing staff of my hospital in London.

One of the people who promised to pray for me before I left was a nun who has devoted much of her life to the Dar-ul-Sakoon ("Gateway to Peace"). This remarkable institution shelters mentally and physically handicapped children who have either been abandoned, or cannot be looked after by their families. Established by the Franciscans in 1969, Dar-ul-Sakoon is run entirely by donations. It is heartwarming to know that in a brutalized society like ours, there are enough individuals and organizations around willing to support such worthy causes.

Spread over three houses in different parts of the city, the operation is supervised by ten nuns and fifty paid employees. Although aware of its existence for some time as a relative is cared for by the nuns, I am ashamed to admit that I only started taking an active interest in it a couple of years ago.

The Besom Foundation, a UK-based charity, asked me to identify a project they could help, and sent three thousand pounds with which we bought refrigerators and other electrical items.

Since then I have been visiting the institution on and off, helping in whatever small way I could. It is heartwarming to see the care and love the children receive from the nuns; indeed, the warm glow I feel when I leave restores my faith in humanity. Many of the kids have grown up here, and know no other home. A few of the less handicapped among them is transported to special school every day. Despite the extreme nature of some of the mental illnesses, they are gentle children who would not hurt a fly.

Unfortunately, mental illness in Pakistan carries such a stigma that to admit its presence in a family is like revealing a shameful secret. As a result, very little is done for retarded children or adults, apart from locking them away. And yet the problem is widely prevalent, and millions of people suffering from it receive no professional attention or care. At best, victims are the objects of pity and offhand charity; at worst, they are secluded from society as pariahs who have no place or role in Pakistan.

Whatever else one may say against the late military dictator Zia-ul-Haq, one must give him credit for not being ashamed of his retarded daughter, taking her with him on trips everywhere and spending much time with her. Perhaps as a result of his own experience with a mentally retarded child, he was the first head of government to recognize the problem and allocate funds for "special education." To this extent, mentally ill children have been given a little more attention than in the past. However, given the reluctance of most people to work closely with them, they remain largely neglected and unloved.

Under these circumstances, Dar-ul-Sakoon is indeed a gateway to peace. Children here are looked after, irrespective of whether their families are paying for them or not. But despite their dedication and devotion, the nuns are not professionally qualified to diagnose the nature and severity of the mental problems their charges are suffering from. These range from autism to cerebral palsy, with each ailment requiring highly specialized treatment. As it is, Pakistan is desperately short of doctors trained to cure mental disease, and most of them have lucrative practices. There are very few doctors like Dr Haroon Ahmad and his team who are giving their time free of charge to these unfortunate people.

A society is ultimately judged by its willingness and ability to care for the old, the infirm and the handicapped. Pakistan fails woefully on this count. Except for a handful of NGOs and charities like Dar-ul-Sakoon, there is no safety net for the weak and the dispossessed. Most families are so ashamed of mental illness in their midst that they keep the afflicted family member at home without seeking medical advice. Among the uneducated, the trend is to take patients to one quack or another; alternatively, they treat the problem as one of demonic possession, and subject the patient to often-brutal exorcism at the hands of pirs and other religious divines. Far too often, the cure is worse than the disease. In many such cases, somebody with a mild problem is pushed over the edge; in others, incarceration with mental patients drives almost normal people into insanity.

Under these conditions, it is a minor miracle that 350 children have found a safe haven. But even for them, the quality of life could be greatly enhanced with better medical care and improved facilities. Understandably, the nuns are handicapped by limited resources. Development work proceeds in fits and starts, depending on donations. For instance, the erection of a lift is currently stalled, and as a result, some children now too heavy to carry are consigned to the top floors, unable to climb down by themselves to the small playing area on the ground floor. The school van is constantly breaking down and badly needs replacement.

But despite these problems, Sister Ruth and her colleagues are remarkably cheerful, serenely confident that they will continue aiding the unfortunates placed in their care. If only the rest of us had a fraction of their goodness and desire to help those unable to help them selves, this would be a far better place than it is today.