with a big heart!
|
What makes Basavaraju different is his eagerness to help others always. |
By Koyel Mitra
(COMMITS, Bangalore)
|
|
Our world is filled with inspirational people. Sometimes we don’t even need to look any further than within our own circle of family and friends. However, it’s not always that we realize it! Most of us take for granted almost everything that we get in life, irrespective of the fact whether we deserve it or not. We take for granted the education that we receive, our college, our |
.jpeg)
professors and even our friends. But that is not the way Basavaraju N., a final year student of VET, views life.
After completing his schooling in a small village called Anekal, Basavaraju came to Bangalore, with dreams in his eyes and a song in his heart. Coming from an agricultural background, with three siblings, Basavaraju had to face hurdles of all kinds. But, nothing could stop him from achieving what he wanted to achieve. He struggled his way out of all difficulties and continued with his studies.
But, what makes Basavaraju different is not his will to win but his eagerness to help others to win as well. While he himself is still in college, Basavaraju teaches students of first year and second year, as also some of his own classmates. Almost 40 students turn up for his free coaching classes. “I don’t want students like me, who come from financially unstable backgrounds, to drop out of college because of lack of assistance, and so I try to help them out in all possible ways,” he says.
He not only helps his juniors and classmates, but also his professors. In fact, when one of his professors took a leave from Sidh Ganga College due to health issues, Basavaraju filled in the gap as the temporary professor. “I just want to make my parents happy and do something for the students who like me want to study and achieve something in life,” he adds.
In a world where even water is not free, Basavaraju N. is one of the very few people who imparts his most valuable possession, knowledge, to the people around him, as he goes around giving free tuition classes to all those who want to make a mark in life.
(You can get in touch with Basavaraju on: +91 95381 22559)
become a great artist
|
Sreekanth's painting of a village temple. |
|
A portrait of Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru. |
By Balaji S.
|
|
Srikanth Kumar Sahu (28) hails from Orissa's Tolakani village and works as a security guard at Neev Technologies in Bangalore, the parent body of Webbazaar, who developed this website. What not many know is that Srikanth, a quiet soul, is gifted with many talents. He is dabbling in paint and has so far done over 5,000 paintings |
“As a kid I always wanted to become great painter. My father is a farmer and as I grew I up the responsibility of supporting my family fell on my shoulders. I had to leave Orissa and come to Bangalore looking for a job,” says Srikanth, with a touch of disappointment writ on his face.
His elder brother and his wife stay with his parents Of the Rs 5,500 he earns as salary, he sends home Rs 3,000. Not just painting, he is also an expert in clay-modeling, and has so far won nearly 20 prizes. He has got close to 3,000 certificates. “I wanted to study further after my 12th, but had to take up a job to support my family. I want people to buy my paintings so that I can send more money to my parents,” says Srikanth. He also surprises you with some magic tricks, which he term as 'science magics'.
Inspired by Srikanth's story? If yes, why not call him on: 97400 92859 and support his dream of becoming a 'great artist one day'.
A danseuse who teaches
slum children
|
Padmaja's proud wards during a practice session. |
By Vinaya Hegde
|
|
It all began in 2002, when a tender coconut vendor would often pause outside her Bharatanatyam dance class in Seshadripuram, Bangalore, and peer in. One day, he came in hesitantly, and asked her: Would she teach his daughter too? Padmaja Suresh, founder-director of Kalpataru Kalavihar, an institute of performing arts, was moved. She enrolled the girl in her class. But the unlettered father's desire to see his daughter learn an art form set her thinking. There were sure to be many among the underprivileged who would love to learn an art form but had no access to it, she felt. |
So she went to a nearby government school, most of whose students were from slums, and told the principal that she was willing to teach the children bharatanatyam. For free. The authorities were cold to the idea. She was not offering academic coaching or a craft that would help them earn money. What good would it do the kids to learn dancing? That was the luxury of the privileged.
But Padmaja persisted. She repeatedly visited the school, trying to persuade them. She finally had a brainwave. "I'll train them and arrange for them to give performance in a good hall," she said. This swung it. Kids began to enroll. Dance classes began in a classroom. The numbers increased. She had 80 pupils soon, 20 % of them boys, and the classroom was not enough any more. So they began to practise in the stage area in two batches.
Inspired by this, three of her senior students began to teach kids in schools near slums in Vijaynagar and Govindrajnagar. Padmaja now approached the Primary and Secondary Education Department, offering to teach dance in government schools. The authorities said they would consider the offer and get back to her.
They didn't. On hindsight, it was good they didn't, says Padmaja. It gave her the freedom to do things her way. She formed Kalpataru Kalachaitanya, a charitable arm of Kalpataru Kalavihar, mainly to teach the underprivileged. In October 2004 came the turning point. Padmaja was invited to give a recital at the Chowdiah Memorial Hall during the Sarvodaya Day celebrations. There was a surprise waiting for the audience. After her recital, 12 of her underprivileged students performed to Gandhiji's favourite hymn 'Vaishnava Janato'. Padmaja recalls that many in the distinguished audience were in tears, when they were told about the background of the kids and how they had picked up the nuances of the art form in a short span of time. Some donations came in and this helped fund her venture to an extent.
Meanwhile, at the schools, teachers were noticing a marked difference in the children who were learning dance. They were acquiring polish and focus. Their confidence levels and communication skills had improved dramatically. Soon, other government schools began to approach her to conduct classes. Padmaja obliged, and started classes with the help of her senior students. However, not everything was smooth. There were heart-breaks along the way. For one, families regularly pulled girls out of school __ and naturally out of the dance class __ either because they had attained puberty or because they had landed jobs.
Padmaja's big moment came in October 2006 when she took 14 of her students from the slums to the Rashtrapati Bhavan for a dance recital on the invitation of then President Dr Abdul Kalam. It was appreciated by Dr Kalam.
Padmaja and her students are now training 50-odd children in Arokyathanahalli in Makali village in Tumkur district. The children’s parents are all farmers. Padmaja and team went there on the invitation of unlettered village women.
She is also training 12 children from ST hostels. Incidentally, 5 children from her 2004 batch are still learning dance from her.
An inspiring soul, indeed!
(You can reach Padmaja Suresh at: padmajasuresh@hotmail.com or on: 094480 68993)
|
|
By Arun
How many honest autorickshaw drivers have you come across? You could say one in a million. Here is that one.
Manjunatha, an auto driver from Bangalore, is one such soul. He returned two laptops worth more than a lakh of rupees to their rightful owners after they forgot them in his auto.
Two technology consultants Naveesh and Sainath along with their Chief Executive Officer (CEO) Vishnu from Pune reached Bangalore on September 23, 2009. They hailed an auto (KA 02 B 5022) at K R Puram at 11.30 am towards Shivajinagar. At 12.15 pm, they got down at Shivajinagar with the luggage.
But, only after an hour, they realised that they had forgotten two laptops: one Toshiba and another Dell, worth more than Rs 1 lakh. More than the money, it was the data that these laptops contained that was worthless. They then decided to lodge a complaint at the Commercial Street Police Station.
When they were about to go to the police station, Vishnu got a call on his mobile phone.
“It was a strange number and the caller introduced himself as Manjunatha. We could not recognise him. But, Manjunatha said he was the auto driver who dropped us from K R Puram to Shivajinagar and wanted to return the laptops. He asked us to be at the place where we got down from the auto. Though, we could not believe it initially, the auto driver promptly landed at 3 pm,” Naveesh said.
But for the 30-year-old Manjunatha, it was nothing exceptional, just a deed in the line of duty. “After dropping the three techies, I ferried two women from Infantry Road to Mysore Road. I saw the laptop bag and asked the women whether it belonged to them. They said no. I checked the bag and found visiting cards and called one of them,” he said.
Manjunatha, who has been driving autos since 2005, said he was suitably rewarded. “They gave me Rs 1,000. That was very nice.”
This is not the first time Manjunatha has displayed such honesty. “Couple of months ago, one lady had left her mobile phone behind in my auto. I remembered her place and returned it.”
|
Malathi Holla's story is probably the most inspiring one of our times. |
 copy.gif)
By Sindhu A.
When she wheels herself into a room, you realize she’s special. Very special. It’s as if a sun beam has suddenly lit up the place. Her handshake is firm. There is warmth in her voice. You notice that she smiles and laughs very often. And the laughter is full-throated. Vivacious.
There are no airs about Malathi. Neither is there an iota of self-pity. No cautious, gentle wheeling for her. Every entry, every exit, in fact every move is sure, quick, purposeful and even impetuous…
This is Malathi Krishnamurthy Holla. International wheelchair athlete. World-renowned Paralympian.
She is probably not as well known as the sports stars of a parallel universe. TV channels don’t have footage on her — but she is a star in her own right. Her achievements no less than those of her luckier, better-known peers.
At 52, she’s still the fastest female Indian athlete in a wheelchair. Conferred with the prestigious Arjuna, Ekalavya and Padma Shri awards, she’s won over 300 medals at national and international events — participating in most of them in a rented wheelchair! No fancy gear for her.
Her laughter, her boundless energy and her zest for life are tough to keep pace with. As the room rings with her laughter, you don’t realize that every time she moves her right leg — which is roughly every two minutes, to aid circulation — a broken bone which has not yet set, is piercing a muscle, causing constant pain.
Pain. The dominant leitmotif of Malathi’s entire life. Both as a constant companion and as an adversary. Pain of the physical kind. Pain of the emotional kind. But this extraordinary woman has been thumbing her nose at it since her childhood. In fact, her flying back from Heathrow to Bangalore with a broken thigh bone, immediately after the Birmingham Open Championship (where she had won two golds) in 2005, has entered sports folklore. She couldn’t afford to stay back to have the bone set, as the Indian contingent was leaving the next day and there would be no one with her. She still remembers with gratitude, a gentleman who gave her his business class seat and took her economy one. That’s Malathi for you. She’d rather remember this kind gesture than the excruciating pain she was in, throughout the journey.
Malathi was born on July 6, 1958 in Bangalore to Krishnamurthy and Padmavathi Holla. Her father ran a small hotel. A raging fever when she was one year old, paralyzed her entire body. Electric shock treatment for more than two years, saw little Malathi regaining strength in her upper body. But below the waist her body remained completely weak. She spent 15 years away from home, at the Ishwari Prasad Dattatraya Orthopaedic Centre in Chennai, undergoing one surgery after another, pursuing academics and discovering the world of sports.
Sports, she realized, was her calling. A therapy that allowed her to forget her pain. A therapy that eventually made her one of the most inspiring sports personalities of modern India, and one highly respected by her peers.
Malathi has been a fighter all her life. Fighting disability. Fighting pain. Fighting society’s condescending attitude. Fighting the attitudes of mulish politicians and the government itself. It was this fighting spirit that saw her take on the Government on the Arjuna award issue. In 1979, the Government had barred all those who were not ‘normal and able sports people’ from being considered for the award. Malathi felt it was “a preposterous and inhuman rule”. She fought against it. And won. While she definitely hadn’t canvassed for the award for herself, she was pleasantly surprised to be chosen for it in 1995.
She has represented India in the Paralympics held in South Korea, Barcelona, Athens and Beijing; the Asian Games held in Beijing, Bangkok, South Korea and Kuala Lumpur; World Masters held in Denmark and Australia; World Commonwealth Games in Australia and Open Championships in Belgium, Kuala Lumpur and England.
Malathi, who has so far undergone 32 surgeries, is readying for her 33rd one as this third edition of the book goes to print.
She shelters 16 children with various disabilities, at Mathru Foundation — a charitable trust formed with her friends. The Foundation focuses mainly on polio victims from rural areas, whose parents cannot afford to send them to school or provide medical treatment.
You can capture the complete story of this inspiring woman in her biography A Different Spirit, published by Inspired Indian Foundation. This is the Foundation's first project.
cost Re 1 only!
|
Thirty-eight years have gone by and Samosa Ajja (68) continues to dish out tasty snacks to students, teachers and visitors at the St Aloysius College in Mangalore. For years, he has been selling them for just Re 1. |
By Harsha Raj Gatty
(1st year MCMS, St Aloysius College, Mangalore)
|
|
Every morning he comes to college on time, clad in complete white, which has more or less become a kind of uniform for him. He monitors everyone passing by and most of them pause to greet him. No, it is not the Principal or the Jesuit priest from the college management. It is the 'Samosa Ajja'. It obviously is not his original name, which is Madukeshwar Mudeyappa Malagi. He was born in Yendigeri Halli of Badami taluk on April 1, 1941. Born into a middle-class family that was |
traditionally into petty trading, he was inspired from his childhood to pursue his family business. That is what he did when he passed out of SSLC, then known as Metriculation, in 1961. He has wife and four children now.
Till 1969, he conducted his business in his native place. In 1970, he shifted to Mangalore which offered better prospects, and started selling samosas at St Aloysius College. Thirty-eight years have gone by and Samosa Ajja continues to dish out tasty snacks to students, teachers and visitors at the campus.
His day begins at 4.30 am with simple exercises followed by a puja. Then with his two helpers he prepares samosas. He has a frugal meal of jowar roti and chutney and leaves for the campus from his home at Basavanagara, Kavoor. Clad in a simple attire of Gandhi topi, white kurta and dhothi, he makes his first stop at Sharavu temple on KS Rao Road for prayers. He is on the campus at dot 8.30 am. He is totally engrossed in his work till 5.30 in the evening. It is during this time that he interacts with a lot of people, especially the students who swarm around him demanding more and more of his snacks. His business peaks from 12 noon to 1 pm and again from 3.15 pm onwards. He also goes to the Primary and Higher Primary schools and hostels in the college.
His favourite customers, the students, fondly call him Mallikharjuna, Mallappa and, of course, Samosa Ajja. He is famous for his expertise in making samosas, though he also dishes out chikkis, laddus, pedas, masala kadle, khadi, etc. Shooting prices seem not to have had any effect on the price of his samosa. For years, he has been selling them for one rupee.
Though he has a stressful workday, he always wears a smile and treats everyone with respect and patience.
Samosa Ajja is extremely punctual, and he manages this without the help of a watch. In fact, he depends on the school bell to schedule his tasks. He has succeeded every time, as you can see him at the right place at the right time.
No weekend breaks for this hardworking man. Despite his ripe old age of sixty-eight, he refuses to take it easy even on Sundays. You find him distributing his savories to his Sunday customers.
Samosa Ajja's is a known face in Mangalore and his service has not gone unnoticed. Some time ago, a school picked him as chief guest for the Independence Day function and made him hoist the flag.
Ask him whether his income is enough to lead a decent life, he says, "Money is not important, but living a quality life is. What one can do with loads of money? Rich or poor, all of us have to go to the grave when the calling comes."
your take