Abdul Rahim returned to Kerala last week after spending nearly two decades in a Saudi prison. Saved by a `47 crore crowdfunding campaign, he now hopes to help others facing the ordeal he once endured

It has been over a week since Machilakath Abdul Rahim, 44, returned home from Saudi Arabia to an emotional welcome after spending nearly two decades in prison and narrowly escaping a death sentence.

Yet visitors continue to stream into Zeenath Manzil at Kodampuzha to meet the man whose life they helped save. They come for a glimpse of the man whose fate once united an entire state, for a handshake, a photograph, or simply a few minutes of conversation. Most have never met him before.

Outside the house, local residents have put up a flex board carrying a message of gratitude to the people of Kerala. Thanking those who participated in what it describes as a ‘historic mission’ to save Abdul Rahim’s life, the board says the people of this small town will never forget those who stood by him during his darkest days. For Rahim, every visitor is a reminder of a debt he believes he can never fully repay.

“These people gave me a second birth,” he says. “No words can adequately thank them. I will remain indebted to them for the rest of my life. Even now, he struggles to comprehend the scale of the support that secured his freedom. “Seeing the crowds and TV cameras at the airport, I wondered whether they were really waiting for me,” he says.

The campaign that saved him became one of the largest humanitarian crowdfunding efforts Kerala has witnessed. In 2024, ordinary people contributed Rs 47 crore to facilitate the payment of blood money required for his release after the victim’s family agreed to pardon him.

As visitors come and go, Rahim’s face suddenly lights up at the sight of two familiar faces entering the compound. He rises immediately and embraces them. Unlike most visitors, these men know a part of his life that few others can truly understand.

They had shared prison blocks with him in Riyadh. One of them, Ismail from Kannur, spent a year in prison after being accused of attempting to offer a bribe. The other, Sali from Ernakulam, was also incarcerated there. Their conversations begin with laughter and relief at seeing Rahim finally home alive. But before long, they drift back to Riyadh, to prison routines, old friendships, and the fate of men who are still waiting.

Some stories ended happily. Others did not. Among the stories Rahim recounts with a smile is that of Balwinder Singh, a Punjabi inmate who secured his freedom after blood money was raised on his behalf. According to Rahim, Singh walked out of prison three years ago after supporters raised one million Saudi riyals. “Now he video-calls me every day,” Rahim says.

“For both of us, it is a new life. We understand what that means.” Much of the support for Singh came from Punjabis living abroad, particularly in Canada. Rahim sees a parallel with his own story, which became a cause embraced by Malayalis across the world.

But not every inmate was fortunate enough to leave prison alive. Rahim’s voice softens when he speaks about Sulfi, a fellow prisoner from Kollam. After spending nearly 15 years behind bars, Sulfi was just two months away from completing his sentence when he suffered a fatal heart attack.

“His family was counting the days,” Rahim recalls. “After waiting all those years, home was finally within sight. Then suddenly he was gone.”

There are other memories he finds harder to revisit. Over the years, he lived alongside men whose stories he knew intimately. Then, one by one, some disappeared after their executions were carried out. “When you spend years together, they become part of your life,” he says quietly. “Then one day they are simply no longer there.” He pauses. “I don’t like to relive the ordeal by recounting it. I would like to start a new life now.”

Yet even amid the celebrations surrounding his return, Rahim finds it impossible not to think about the men he left behind. He recalls a prisoner from Palakkad who was executed about three-and-a-half years ago after being convicted in a murder case. “Very few people knew about him,” Rahim says. “There was nobody who could provide effective legal assistance. He also did not inform people outside. Eventually, the law took its course.”

There are others still waiting. Among them is a native of Pathanamthitta who, along with a Sri Lankan co-accused, remains imprisoned in connection with the death of a man from Uttar Pradesh. According to Rahim, both have been asked to pay blood money of 200,000 Saudi riyals each if they are to secure their release.

Another inmate he remembers is Shoukath, an elderly man from Tamil Nadu who has spent six years in prison after a fatal road accident. According to Rahim, he could secure his freedom if compensation of 30,000 Saudi riyals is paid. “I would like to help them if possible,” he says.

Rahim was just 24 when he travelled to Saudi Arabia in 2006. Before leaving Kerala, he worked as an autorickshaw driver and also drove school vehicles. In Riyadh, he found employment with a Saudi family and was assigned to care for the employer’s differently abled son, Anas Al Shahri, who depended on medical support equipment. Within weeks, tragedy struck.

During a car ride, the child reportedly became agitated and asked Rahim to jump the traffic signal. When he refused, the teen allegedly spat on his face and when Rahim resisted with his hand, he accidentally struck a medical tube attached to the boy’s throat. The child later died. Saudi courts convicted him of murder and sentenced him to death.

For years, Rahim believed he would never leave prison alive. The turning point came only when the victim’s family agreed to accept blood money and grant him a pardon. Even then, freedom seemed distant. “When they told me that Rs 34 crore had to be raised, I honestly doubted whether it was possible,” he says. What followed was an extraordinary display of collective solidarity.

The crowdfunding campaign launched in March 2024 rapidly grew into a mass movement. Contributions arrived from schoolchildren, daily wage workers, Gulf expatriates and ordinary citizens. By April, more than Rs 47 crore had been raised, clearing the path for his eventual release.

The campaign has since attracted academic attention. A study by Farhan P C of the University of Kashmir and Mary Sam of Christ (deemed to be university) found that 73.9% contributors were motivated by the belief that they could help save a human life. Religious teachings encouraging charity influenced 52.3% per cent of respondents, while empathy for Rahim’s elderly mother emerged as another major factor behind donations.

Interestingly, the study found that nearly two-thirds of contributors initially doubted whether such a large amount could be raised. Yet they donated anyway. In many ways, the campaign became an act of collective faith before it became a success story. Inside Zeenath Manzil, Rahim’s 77-year-old mother Fathima continues to receive visitors who arrive to congratulate the family. After waiting nearly 20 years to see her son return home, she thanks well-wishers while relatives serve refreshments to guests.

Rahim, however, is already looking beyond his own homecoming. He says he wants to help others in distress, particularly prisoners who remain trapped in circumstances similar to those he once faced. Saved by the compassion of strangers, he now hopes to spend his second chance extending that same compassion to others.

END OF ARTICLE