Story of a litlle boy and a monster

DO you hate your job and feel that you get paid much less than you deserve?
Is there a subject you totally despise and hate studying?
Is there someone who’s being rude and nasty to you all the time?
And have you been wondering why it’s all that way?
Maybe you should hear the story of the evil monster and the little boy.

The story goes that long, long ago there lived a monster in a tiny village. The villagers were all terrified of him, and felt their village was cursed to have such a creature living in their midst. Several men tried to fight the monster. One man attacked the monster with a sharp sword. The monster grabbed the sword and almost magically pulled out another sword, twice as large, twice as sharp and cut the man into half. Another time, a villager set off with a large wooden club to hit the monster. The monster responded by slamming the man with a wooden club, twice as large as the one that the villager had. On another occasion, a villager tried to set the monster on fire.But the monster opened his mouth and spewed huge flames – that roasted the poor man. Scared by these events the village folks gave up trying to fight the monster. They felt this was their lot, and they had to learn to live with it.

And then one day a little boy said he would go and vanquish the monster. People were surprised, and despite their disbelief, went along to see the little boy take on the monster. As the boy looked up at the giant, the monster just flared his nostrils and glared back.

The little boy then took out an apple and offered it to the monster. The monster grabbed it, held it to his mouth, and then thrust his clenched fist in front of the boy. Bang! As the fist slowly opened, the people were astonished to see two delicious apples there. Twice as red and twice as large as the apple that the boy had offered.

The boy then took out a little earthen pot with some water and gave it to the monster. And the monster took that and responded by placing in front of the boy two urns made of gold, filled with delicious juice.

The people were ecstatic.

They suddenly realized that the monster was not a curse – but a boon to the village.

The little boy smiled.
And the giant just smiled back…


While the story is centuries old, the monster is still around.
In colleges, in the office, and in our lives…

And it’s a good idea to remember the lessons from that story.
Most of our problems appear that way because of the way we look at them.

You get back what you give. Twice as much…!

Is someone being rude to you? Maybe you need to change the way you behave with them.
And no, don’t wait for them to change; you need to change first! At work too, if you go in to work, hating every moment, it’s unlikely that you’ll do a great job. If you don’t contribute, don’t expect to get paid a fat salary. You get what you give.

Resolve today then to change. Love your job and give it everything you have. Be nice to the “Ms Nasty” in college. Look at Maths as a cool, fun subject. And you’ll discover that the evil monster is in fact a benevolent giant. It’s significant that it took a little child to discover the true colours of the monster. Children don’t have preconceived notions. They believe the world is a wonderful place. It’s only as they grow up that the optimism vanishes, and negative conditioning sets in.

Go on. Let the child in you take over. Look at everything you dread with fresh eyes – be it rude friends, tough subjects or lousy jobs. Maybe the monster is really a nice guy…
Change the way you look at him. And you will see the difference…!!

Keeper of the Spring

The late Peter Marshall was an eloquent speaker and for several years served as the chaplain of the US Senate. He used to love to tell the story of the "Keeper of the Spring," a quiet forest dweller who lived high above an Austrian village along the eastern slope of the Alps.

The old gentleman had been hired many years earlier by a young town councilman to clear away the debris from the pools of water up in the mountain crevices that fed the lovely spring flowing through their town. With faithful, silent regularity, he patrolled the hills, removed the leaves and branches, and wiped away the silt that would otherwise have choked and contaminated the fresh flow of water. The village soon became a popular attraction for vacationers.

Graceful swans floated along the crystal clear spring, the mill wheels of various businesses located near the water turned day and night, farmlands were naturally irrigated, and the view from restaurants was picturesque beyond description.

Years passed. One evening the town council met for its semiannual meeting. As they reviewed the budget, one man's eye caught the salary figure being paid the obscure keeper of the spring. Said the keeper of the purse, "Who is the old man? Why do we keep him on year after year? No one ever sees him. For all we know, the strange ranger of the hills is doing us no good. He isn't necessary any longer." By a unanimous vote, they dispensed with the old man's services.

For several weeks, nothing changed.

By early autumn, the trees began to shed their leaves. Small branches snapped of and fell into the pools, hindering the rushing flow of sparkling water. One afternoon someone noticed a slight yellowish-brown tint in the spring. A few days later, the water was much darker. Within another week, a slimy film covered sections of the water along the banks, and a foul odor was soon detected. The mill wheels moved more slowly, some finally ground to a halt. Swans left, as did the tourists. Clammy fingers of disease and sickness reached deeply into the village.

Quickly, the embarrassed council called a special meeting. Realizing their gross error in judgment, they rehired the old keeper of the spring, and within a few weeks, the veritable river of life began to clear up. The wheels started to turn, and new life returned to the hamlet in the Alps.

Never become discouraged with the seeming smallness of your task, job, or life. Cling fast to the words of Edward Everett Hale: "I am only one, but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; and because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do something I can do. " The key to accomplishment is believing that what you can do will make a difference.

Lifeline Express (Jeevan Rekha Express)

The story of a special train, the Lifeline Express. With two state-of-the-art operating theatres, recovery rooms, offices and accommodation, each project requires a team of volunteer doctors, surgeons and nurses to give their services for free. Saw a documentary about the Magic Train today on News X.

Below is an article on the Lifeline Express from Knowledge @ Wharton (the school's online business journal)

Lifeline Express: Can Trains-turned-hospitals Cure Rural India's Health Care Woes?

Grateful patients bearing small bags of fruit and vegetables are common along the railway platforms where Lifeline Express -- the world's first hospital on rails -- halts for three-week camps across rural India. So when a distraught parent dropped a bundle into Zelma Lazarus's lap at one of the stations and begged her to help his son who had lost his arms in a threshing machine accident, the CEO of Impact India, the foundation that created Lifeline, took it in stride -- until she opened the bag and found the severed limbs.

"The rural poor often slip through the gaps in the public health system," Lazarus says. "Lifeline Express is like a magic train to them, and they expect us to perform miracles." In this particular case, the "magic train" couldn't help, but Impact India could: The foundation brought the boy to Mumbai, where he was fitted with a pair of artificial limbs.

The mission of Lifeline Express is to vanquish avoidable blindness, deafness and physical handicaps. After 19 years and nearly 600,000 surgeries, the train and its 100,000 volunteers have not even scratched the surface of disability in India. Impact India's chairman, A. H. Tobaccowala, estimates that the train has reached less than 10% of the population in need of medical attention.

When the Impact Foundation was set up in 1981 by Sir John Wilson -- a prominent British supporter of the disabled who himself was blinded in a laboratory accident at school -- three United Nations agencies threw their weight behind the organization, with the understanding that it would be run as a public-private partnership. Accordingly, Impact India was founded in 1983 with managerial and technical support from the Tata Group conglomerate. Tobaccowala and Lazarus, who were respectively chairman and general manager of corporate affairs at a Tata Group company called Voltas, were seconded to the new foundation and have been there since.

Making Tracks

Impact India initially focused on immunization and prevention of diseases such as polio and malaria. In 1989, it started "Cure on Wheels," a van that traveled around the hinterland, dispensing medical and surgical treatment to people beyond the reach of the state-funded basic health service. But the care the van was able to provide was still too little and, often, too late. Impact wanted to extend medical services to larger numbers of people in even more remote parts of the country. The challenge, however, was that sterile facilities for the surgeries and post-operating recovery were needed, while procedures had to be consistently replicable across the country. This was clearly a task beyond what a van could do. So Impact turned to India's railway system -- all 109,000 kilometers (68,000 miles) of it.

Three old, wooden carriages were donated by Indian Railways and renovated to the foundation's specifications. An air-conditioned operating theater with three adjustable tables, a diagnostic center, a sterilization chamber and a post-operative recovery room were installed in one carriage. The other two contained the living quarters, pantry, office and pathology lab. Funding for the overhaul came from international charities, such as the Ford Foundation, USAID and Impact UK. On July 16, 1991, Lifeline Express rolled away from Mumbai to Khalari in Bihar state, then the smallest railway station in India.

The present Lifeline Express has five customized carriages that were unveiled in 2007. Indian Railways once again provided the carriages, and Impact UK funded their overhaul. The new train has state-of-the-art facilities, including an auditorium, public announcement system and closed-circuit cameras. There is also a second, self-contained, two-table operating theater, which can be detached from the rest of the train and function as a standalone unit in the event of a disaster.

The train may be new, but the procedures have remained much the same since the early days. Lasting three to four weeks, each project serves nearly 5,000 people and relies on community participation. At every stop, local villages and non-governmental organizations offer various assistance, from food and laundry services to crowd control (polite patients waiting in line and disorderly mobs are equally common) to finding accommodations for post-operative patients and family who accompany them.

The train has only a few permanent staffers, such as the cook, a technician in charge of maintaining the pathology lab and computers, an operating theater assistant and a driver. All medical specialists -- surgeons, doctors, nurses, anesthetists -- are volunteers, providing the equivalent of US$80,000 of donated time for every project. At any given moment, a 20-person medical team is on the train, working 15 hours a day.

Remote Control

Each project costs the foundation about $65,000. Typically, the sponsor -- generally companies such as Tata and Mahindra & Mahindra or state governments -- decides the location of the camp. Impact India's only condition is that it must be in a suitably remote location. Project work starts a month before the train reaches the station. The Lifeline team liaises with the district administration to make sure all the red tape -- permits and so forth -- and publicity are dealt with before the train arrives. Town criers, flyers, clowns on stilts and poster-draped elephants spread the news about the train and urge people to register at the nearest community welfare center or primary health center. Once selected, patients are called to a local school or marriage hall, which serves as a makeshift waiting room.

The train treats "avoidable disabilities," which means the focus is on ear and eye ailments, as well as orthopedic and facial handicaps, such as illnesses caused by polio and cleft palates. Typically, each specialty is run as a week-long camp. Other ailments are also examined. Last year, a British clinic sponsored a dental unit on the train and volunteered its services. Neurosurgeons have begun treating epilepsy, while counseling superstitious, often illiterate villagers about why the afflicted are not cursed or possessed by evil spirits.

Perhaps the greatest advantage Lifeline Express has over other health services for the poor is its ability to reach "the doorstep of the patient," says G. Chandrasekhar, medical director of K.B.H. Bachooali Charitable Ophthalmic & ENT Hospital in Mumbai. "My hospital also performs free surgeries, but patients have to reach here. Lifeline Express takes me to the patient." Chandrasekhar has volunteered as an ophthalmic surgeon for the train in 2005 and 2007, and says he's waiting to be called again.

Three Lifeline Express trains now operate in China and Zimbabwe, while hospital river boats based on the India model have been set up to tend to patients in Bangladesh and Cambodia. Lifeline has inspired other projects in India, too. In 2007, the government launched Red Ribbon Express to increase awareness of HIV and AIDS, and Science Express to promote science among students.

Tobaccowala may regret the large numbers that remain untreated, but there is a consolation: The country's government wouldn't have reached even a small fraction of the people helped by Lifeline Express. India's public health system is dangerously overstretched and large parts of the country have limited or no access to basic medical care. Government spending on health, at 3% of total its budget, is among the lowest in the world. There is one doctor to every 870 people.

A recent government report notes that the low number of trained medical professionals in India has led to a shortage of one million nurses, 600,000 doctors and 200,000 oral surgeons. The scarcity is especially pronounced in rural areas. "Many of the people we treat have never been to a doctor before," Lazarus says. "People are so desperate for medical treatment they lie on the tracks to stop the train from leaving."

Seeking Sustainability

Despite all this, Lazarus says she wishes that the train would become defunct. Why? "The train arrives at the platform, treats as many people as it can and then leaves. It is not a sustainable solution for these people's health care needs. Once that is attained, there will be no need for a Lifeline Express." To address health care needs over the longer term, Impact India started an initiative in 2005 in Maharashtra state. The grassroots program aims to reduce disability by improving community health and neonatal and maternal care by focusing on malnutrition, sanitation, hygiene and family planning. To get the message across, mobile clinics are equipped with LCD screens showing film clips about health-related issues, while a local art form called Warli painting is used on posters, clothing, walls and even water pots to spread the word.

"Hospitals are already overworked treating patients. They can't focus on prevention and awareness," says G.V. Rao, country director of Orbis India, a blindness-prevention nonprofit. "That can be done by trains and planes to draw attention to these preventable and easily treated ailments." Orbis's Flying Eye Hospital travels the world with volunteer surgeons, who treat patients and train local specialists in eye care. In India, Rao says, Orbis has screened more than 3.5 million children over the past eight years, treated nearly 600,000 people and performed more than 60,000 surgeries. "Policy-level changes are needed," Rao says. "Children should be screened for basic health issues during school enrollment. Diet and nutrition issues should also be tackled at the primary level."

For India's rural poor, prevention is essential because the chance for a cure may never arrive. More than budgetary support, it requires an approach to rural health care emphasizing nutrition and immunization. Until that happens, there will always be offerings of fruit and flowers for the doctors on board Lifeline Express.

Find Peace in a Busy Life

Find Peace in a Busy Life -- by Scott Dinsmore (courtesy Manish Modi)

“Life is just a quick succession of busy nothings.”-- Jane Austen

Do you remember the last time you asked someone how work was? How about life in general? What was their response?

What did you say the last time you were asked those questions? I bet I know. It’s the same thing almost everyone I talk to says, and something I’ve been keeping track of the past few weeks.

The unanimous answer: “busy”

The response is almost programmed. No need to think. And then they look at me proudly, as if I should be impressed. Well, I can’t say that I am.

I must admit that “busy” has been my response for years. But how did we all of a sudden find ourselves in a society where busy was the most acceptable way to be spending our time?

We’ve talked of being busy for so long that we’ve forgotten that being busy was never the goal. We are not on this earth to be busy. We are here to build relationships, experience life, go places, create things, help others, or whatever else you decide. Our reasons for being will all be different but I have a feeling that none of us feel we are here simply to be busy. But this thinking has lead us to think busy is good…no matter what we’re busy with.

Being busy is not the way we should measure our worth. As mentioned in The Beginner’s Guide to Being Congruent, it is up to each of us to decide how we ought to be spending our time. I do not believe being busy is a worthy goal for any of us. Before you know it, you might get caught up being busy doing worthless things.Sadly the business world continues to train us this way as employees are expected to put in 8 (or 10 or 12) hours of work a day even though some days we might have only 2 or 4 hours of productive things to do. But since we must seem busy, we fill the time. Maybe with Facebook, chatting, or web surfing. It’s poor life training. Tim Ferriss calls this Work For Work’s Sake and it isn’t helping.

I propose a revolt against being busy

Don’t get me wrong, I am not encouraging laziness or not getting things done. It’s quite the opposite. I’ve known business leaders and executives who’s schedules have enough going on to give you a migraine, yet they don’t feel busy at all. They feel calm, happy and congruent. If something important comes up, they have time for it.

Then I’ve met retired men who have all the time in the world to spend as they please, yet they always seem to be too busy for this or for that. Too busy for the things they love. They can never find enough time.How can this be?

I’ve realized that busy is simply a state of mind. A state that often causes stress, unhappiness and wasted energy.

Commit to not being busy

propose that we all take a moment to stop, recognize this unhealthy state, and make the decision to no longer be busy. Enjoy the weight that gets lifted off your back simply by changing your focus. Perception is reality and none of us need busy to be that reality. I bet you’ll get even more done and have time left over to do the things you really care about.

Personal Story: Don’t be too busy to serve your purpose

Last week I had a very full schedule. Meetings, events, projects. I had mapped out my whole calendar to be sure it all fit. Then right in the middle of the week I got a call from someone who wanted to get together for an hour to discuss her potential career transition. She had been with a company for over 14 years and recently began feeling as if she was in “career purgatory”, as she put it.

A while back I decided that anytime someone needs help with a topic of such importance (especially when they use those words…), I’d make it a priority to do all I can to help. My calendar was packed, but there was no way I was too busy to sit down with her. I met her for an hour over coffee and didn’t leave for two and a half. It turned out to be the most rewarding, fulfilling and entertaining two and a half hours I’d spent all week.

She thanked me for meeting on such short notice and said “I can’t believe you could make time so quickly with how busy you must be.” Everyone assumes everyone is so busy. Little did she know I’d recently decided that busy wasn’t for me. This was exactly how I wanted to spend my time. I just hadn’t planned on it when the week started.

Life can never be too busy for the things that matter most to you. If you don’t have time for those, the busywork won’t matter anyway.

I am done being busy. That is no longer my response to life…and I am the guy who has a pile of to-do’s and actions so long that they will likely never all get done. My calendar looks like a 19th century mosaic with all the things scheduled and planned. But that does not mean I’m busy. And that’s liberating.

Give it a try. This week, take the “I’m not busy challenge”. All you have to do is commit to not responding to anyone with how busy you are (even if it feels like you are totally swamped). Don’t even adjust your schedule. Just change your language. It will be harder than you think. You’ll stumble on what words to use to replace the cultural norm. Try “exciting” or “full” or maybe “all kinds of fun things”. And if they ask directly if you’ve been busy…give the refreshing answer “Nope I haven’t been busy at all.” Then begin to act like it. Enjoy the tranquility that follows.

How busy are you right now? Pride and satisfaction are not found in busy. Decide not to be. It doesn’t mean you don’t get things done. It just means you do them calmly and with intent.

“Being busy does not always mean real work.

The object of all work is production or accomplishment

and to either of these needs there must be

forethought, system, planning, intelligence,

and honest purpose as well as perspiration.

seeming to do is not doing.”

~ Thomas Alva Edison

Beautiful Thought by Buddha

Once Buddha was travelling with a few of his followers. While they were passing a lake, Buddha told one of his disciples, "I am thirsty. Do get me some water from the lake."

The disciple walked up to the lake. At that moment, a bullock cart started crossing through the lake. As a result, the water became very muddy and turbid. The disciple thought, "How can I give this muddy water to Buddha to drink?"

So he came back and told Buddha, "The water in there is very muddy. I don't think it is fit to drink."

After about half an hour, again Buddha asked the same disciple to go back to the lake.

The disciple went back, and found that the water was still muddy. He returned and informed Buddha about the same.

After sometime, again Buddha asked the same disciple to go back.

This time, the disciple found the mud had settled down, and the water was clean and clear. So he collected some water in a pot and brought it to Buddha.

Buddha looked at the water, and then he looked up at the disciple and said," See what you did to make the water clean. You let it be, and the mud settled down on its own -- and you have clear water.

Your mind is like that too ! When it is disturbed, just let it be. Give it a little time. It will settle down on its own. You don't have to put in any effort to calm it down. It will happen. It is effortless." Having 'Peace of Mind' is not a strenuous job; it is an effortless process! 

What Monsoon Means

from www.downtoearth.org.in, the online edition of Down To Earth magazine, a leading science & environment fortnightly published by Society for Environmental Communications (Centre for Science & Environment, CSE India)

There is one being-Indian-thing, which spans the urban-rural and the rich-poor divide: our annual watch and wait for the monsoon. It begins every year, without fail as heat climbs and the monsoon advances. The farmers wait desperately because they need the rain at the right time to sow their crops. The city managers wait because by the beginning of each monsoon period, the reservoirs that supply water to cities are precariously low. All of us wait, in spite of our air-conditioned living, for the relief rain brings to the scorching heat and dust. This is perhaps the only time when the entire country is one in desperation. It cannot exhale till it rains.

But even as I write this several questions come to my mind. How much do we really know about this phenomenon so important in every Indi an’s life? Do we know why it rains? Do we know that scientists are still squabbling about the definition of monsoon? The only one they have is seasonal winds, which have regular directions, and they get flummoxed when this changes. Do we know our monsoon is a truly globalised phenomenon. It is integrated and linked to the ocean current in the faraway Pacific, the temperature of the Tibetan plat eau, the Eurasian snow and even the freshwater content in the Bay of Bengal. Do we even know who the monsoon scientists are in India and how they are desperately learning to chase this unpredictable and variable event better? We don’t. We have been taught some of the science in school, but never in real life. It is not part of the usable knowledge, what we think we need to know to survive our world of today. But we are wrong.

The grand old man of the Indian monsoon, the late P R Pisharoty, would have told you that this annual event brings us rain in just about 100 hours in the 8,765-hour year, which means it is our challenge to manage it well. Environmentalist Anil Agarwal would have explained the monsoon shows how nature uses weak forces rather than concentrated forces to do its work. Just think: it takes a very small temperature difference to carry as much as 40,000 billion tonnes of water from the oceans across thousands of miles to dump it as rainfall over India. This lack of knowledge of nature’s ways is at the core of the environmental crisis, he would say.

Consider again: we use concentrated energy sources such as coal and oil that have created enormous problems like local air pollution and global climate chan ge. If we understood the ways of nature, we would shift to weaker sources of energy like solar or move to using rainfall, not wait till it is concentrated in rivers and aquifers. “Humans have come to rely much more on concentrated water sources like rivers and aquifers in the past 100 years. But heavy use of these sources is leading to their overexploitation. In the 21st century, human beings will once again move to weaker water resource like rainfall,” said Agarwal. In other words, the more we understand the monsoon, the more we will learn how to move from unravelling nature to imitating it for sustainable development.

Another question I have is: how much do we know how to live without the monsoons? I am sure you have heard it said that very soon we will be ‘developed’, and that would mean we would no longer be ‘dependent’ on this crazy national obsession called the monsoon. Let’s be clear this is not going to happen in a hurry. After 60-odd years of Independence and after considerable investment in surface irrigation systems, the bulk of Indian agriculture remains rainfed. This means farmers are at the mercy of this capricious and undependable God. But this is not even the full picture. What is not said is that between 60 and 80 per cent of the irrigated area is watered by groun dwater, a resou rce, which needs the rain to recha rge its supply. This is why every year as the monsoon progresses from Kerala to Kashmir or from Bengal to Rajas than, hearts stop beating if it halts, slows or dies. The words low pressure and depressions are part of the Indian lexicon. The monsoon is and will remain India’s true finance minister.

Therefore, I believe, instead of wanting to reduce dependence we should celebrate and deepen our engagement with the monsoon. Our monsoon lexicon must expand so that we harvest the rain—every drop of it where and when it falls. This must be the national obsession, treasuring the value of each raindrop. We must build a water future based on decentralised systems—check dams, lakes, ponds, wells, grasses and trees, everything that can slow the journey of rain to the oceans.

If we can do this, we can answer my last and most painful question. How should we live and celebrate the rain that falls in our cities and fields? Today, we cry when it does not rain and weep when it does because rain brings floods and disease in fields and traffic jams in cities. Just think of the devastating cycle of water stress and floods we witness each year without fail and with increasing ferocity. The only way to change is relearn the art of living with water that falls every year.

The monsoon is part of each of us. Now we have to make it real.


—Sunita Narain

What Monsoon Means

from www.downtoearth.org.in, the online edition of Down To Earth magazine, a leading science & environment fortnightly published by Society for Environmental Communications (Centre for Science & Environment, CSE India)

There is one being-Indian-thing, which spans the urban-rural and the rich-poor divide: our annual watch and wait for the monsoon. It begins every year, without fail as heat climbs and the monsoon advances. The farmers wait desperately because they need the rain at the right time to sow their crops. The city managers wait because by the beginning of each monsoon period, the reservoirs that supply water to cities are precariously low. All of us wait, in spite of our air-conditioned living, for the relief rain brings to the scorching heat and dust. This is perhaps the only time when the entire country is one in desperation. It cannot exhale till it rains.

But even as I write this several questions come to my mind. How much do we really know about this phenomenon so important in every Indi an’s life? Do we know why it rains? Do we know that scientists are still squabbling about the definition of monsoon? The only one they have is seasonal winds, which have regular directions, and they get flummoxed when this changes. Do we know our monsoon is a truly globalised phenomenon. It is integrated and linked to the ocean current in the faraway Pacific, the temperature of the Tibetan plat eau, the Eurasian snow and even the freshwater content in the Bay of Bengal. Do we even know who the monsoon scientists are in India and how they are desperately learning to chase this unpredictable and variable event better? We don’t. We have been taught some of the science in school, but never in real life. It is not part of the usable knowledge, what we think we need to know to survive our world of today. But we are wrong.

The grand old man of the Indian monsoon, the late P R Pisharoty, would have told you that this annual event brings us rain in just about 100 hours in the 8,765-hour year, which means it is our challenge to manage it well. Environmentalist Anil Agarwal would have explained the monsoon shows how nature uses weak forces rather than concentrated forces to do its work. Just think: it takes a very small temperature difference to carry as much as 40,000 billion tonnes of water from the oceans across thousands of miles to dump it as rainfall over India. This lack of knowledge of nature’s ways is at the core of the environmental crisis, he would say.

Consider again: we use concentrated energy sources such as coal and oil that have created enormous problems like local air pollution and global climate chan ge. If we understood the ways of nature, we would shift to weaker sources of energy like solar or move to using rainfall, not wait till it is concentrated in rivers and aquifers. “Humans have come to rely much more on concentrated water sources like rivers and aquifers in the past 100 years. But heavy use of these sources is leading to their overexploitation. In the 21st century, human beings will once again move to weaker water resource like rainfall,” said Agarwal. In other words, the more we understand the monsoon, the more we will learn how to move from unravelling nature to imitating it for sustainable development.

Another question I have is: how much do we know how to live without the monsoons? I am sure you have heard it said that very soon we will be ‘developed’, and that would mean we would no longer be ‘dependent’ on this crazy national obsession called the monsoon. Let’s be clear this is not going to happen in a hurry. After 60-odd years of Independence and after considerable investment in surface irrigation systems, the bulk of Indian agriculture remains rainfed. This means farmers are at the mercy of this capricious and undependable God. But this is not even the full picture. What is not said is that between 60 and 80 per cent of the irrigated area is watered by groun dwater, a resou rce, which needs the rain to recha rge its supply. This is why every year as the monsoon progresses from Kerala to Kashmir or from Bengal to Rajas than, hearts stop beating if it halts, slows or dies. The words low pressure and depressions are part of the Indian lexicon. The monsoon is and will remain India’s true finance minister.

Therefore, I believe, instead of wanting to reduce dependence we should celebrate and deepen our engagement with the monsoon. Our monsoon lexicon must expand so that we harvest the rain—every drop of it where and when it falls. This must be the national obsession, treasuring the value of each raindrop. We must build a water future based on decentralised systems—check dams, lakes, ponds, wells, grasses and trees, everything that can slow the journey of rain to the oceans.

If we can do this, we can answer my last and most painful question. How should we live and celebrate the rain that falls in our cities and fields? Today, we cry when it does not rain and weep when it does because rain brings floods and disease in fields and traffic jams in cities. Just think of the devastating cycle of water stress and floods we witness each year without fail and with increasing ferocity. The only way to change is relearn the art of living with water that falls every year.

The monsoon is part of each of us. Now we have to make it real.


—Sunita Narain

The Bhopal Legacy: Reworking Corporate Liability

from www.downtoearth.org.in, the online edition of Down To Earth magazine, a leading science & environment fortnightly published by Society for Environmental Communications (Centre for Science & Environment, CSE India)





Days after President Barack Obama lashed out at British Petroleum (BP) saying he would not let them ‘nickel and dime’ his people in the oil spill case, a sessions court in Bhopal did precisely that with the victims of the world’s worst industrial disaster.

After 25 long years the court of the chief judicial magistrate pronounced its verdict on the criminal case against Union Carbide and its Indian subsidiary on the matter of negligence and liability. The court’s decision holds seven officials of Union Carbide India guilty, but on diluted charges of accidental injury—tantamount to a traffic accident—and lets off the main accused of the US parent company.

Universally called a travesty of justice, the verdict has, however, been welcomed by the US government. It believes the verdict now puts to rest all cases against its ‘unfortunate’ victim company, Union Carbide.

There is no doubt this is one case where the victims have been let down completely by the Indian State—government and judiciary. It is no small matter the Union law minister admitted as much, saying sadly “justice has been buried in the Bhopal case”. It is well accepted the Supreme Court erred badly first in 1989, by settling all civil and criminal liability at a piddly sum of US $470 million (in 1991 it reopened the criminal case).

Then in 1996, the apex court reduced criminal charges from section 304b—culpable homicide with a maximum punishment of 10 years—to a milder section 304a, used in traffic accidents for deaths caused by rash or negligent acts, which limits the term of imprisonment and provides for lighter fines.

In all this, the court has been strangely silent about the management of relief and the lack of medical research and treatment for the victims.

The apex court, known to side with environmental victims, has also been vacillating on the matter of what should be done with the abandoned factory site, which is full of toxic contaminants the company left behind. The trial court has only compounded and sealed these errors—with a judgment that is hurting victims even more (if possible) than the deadly and horrific night when the city died a million deaths.

Bhopal is about shame. Bhopal is also about what the country, indeed all countries, must do about corporate liability for the unknown. In 1984, when the pesticide factory’s poison gas hit Bhopal, to kill and maim thousands, nobody had seen or imagined a disaster of this kind. The question of liability was hushed up, largely because it involved a US company. Nobody wanted to mess around with this corporate powerhouse, even in those times of relative innocence.

The amount settled for the disaster, still unfolding because lives continue to be lost and ailments do not go away, was less than what was agreed in the Exxon Valdex case that occurred a few years later in 1989. In this oil disaster, which hit the coast of Alaska in the US, the toll on the natural environment— the flora and fauna—was priced double (some US$ 1 billion settled for punitive and economic damages) that paid for the thousands of human lives lost and maimed in Bhopal.

But oil interests in the US are not small fry. In 1990, post-Exxon Valdez, the Oil Pollution Act was passed. The act capped the liability of economic damages from such an oil disaster at a mere US $75 million. Today, even as the US is learning how it never anticipated a disaster such as the BP spill—a leak in an oil well so deep in the ocean that human intervention is not possible—this cap has become a point of friction in the country.

Today, the US Senate wants the cap removed. Otherwise it will have to prove that BP’s oil spill was the result of deliberate and gross negligence and/or regulatory non-compliance. The US Senate knows this will be difficult to establish, given the country’s legal process. The country’s president also says it is not regulatory noncompliance, just that regulations have been played around with and diluted because of the ‘cosy relationship between big oil and government’.

This is the right time to ask the Indian government to rethink the Civil Liability for Nuclear Damages Bill it wants to present in Parliament. The bill caps the operator’s liability at Rs 500 crore per incident, with additional damages of approximately Rs 2,300 crore to be made good by the government. This amount is even less than what was paid in the case of Bhopal, a ridiculously low amount; this amount is a joke when it comes to a nuclear accident.

US companies with an interest in the nuclear business desperately want India to pass this bill. It will cap liability and hence reduce their insurance cover and costs. It is, thus, not a surprise that the official US response to the trial court judgment on Bhopal mentions this bill and wants the Indian government not to link the two.

But there is a link. The issue of liability must be established and it must be based on full costs. Only then can we believe the corporations that want to sell us these future and unknown high-risk technologies. After the shame of Bhopal, nothing less is acceptable.

—Sunita Narain

Is the Nation in a Coma? (Asatyamev Jayate)

this article is a wake-up call not only for the politicians but specially for the sleeping Indian junta

-- by Mohan Murti from Business Line (May 2010)

A few days ago I was in a panel discussion on mergers and acquisitions in Frankfurt, Germany, organised by Euroforum and The Handelsblatt, one of the most prestigious newspapers in German-speaking Europe.

The other panellists were senior officials of two of the largest carmakers and two top insurance companies — all German multinationals operating in India.

The panel discussion was moderated by a professor from the esteemed European Business School. The hall had an audience that exceeded a hundred well-known European CEOs. I was the only Indian.

After the panel discussion, the floor was open for questions. That was when my “moment of truth” turned into an hour of shame, embarrassment — when the participants fired questions and made remarks on their experiences with the evil of corruption in India.

The awkwardness and humiliation I went through reminded of The Moment of Truth, the popular Anglo-American game. The more questions I answered truthfully, the more the questions get tougher. Tougher here means more embarrassing.

European disquiet

Questions ranged from “Is your nation in a coma?”, the corruption in judiciary, the possible impeachment of a judge, the 2G scam and to the money parked illegally in tax havens.

It is a fact that the problem of corruption in India has assumed enormous and embarrassing proportions in recent years, although it has been with us for decades. The questions and the debate that followed in the panel discussion was indicative of the European disquiet. At the end of the Q&A session, I surmised Europeans perceive India to be at one of those junctures where tripping over the precipice cannot be ruled out.

Let me substantiate this further with what the European media has to say in recent days.

In a popular prime-time television discussion in Germany, the panellist, a member of the German Parliament quoting a blog said: “If all the scams of the last five years are added up, they are likely to rival and exceed the British colonial loot of India of about a trillion dollars.”

Banana Republic

One German business daily which wrote an editorial on India said: “India is becoming a Banana Republic instead of being an economic superpower. To get the cut motion designated out, assurances are made to political allays. Special treatment is promised at the expense of the people. So, Ms Mayawati who is Chief Minister of the most densely inhabited state, is calmed when an intelligence agency probe is scrapped. The multi-million dollars fodder scam by another former chief minister wielding enormous power is put in cold storage. Prime Minister Manmohan Singh chairs over this kind of unparalleled loot.”

An article in a French newspaper titled “Playing the Game, Indian Style” wrote: “Investigations into the shadowy financial deals of the Indian cricket league have revealed a web of transactions across tax havens like Switzerland, the Virgin Islands, Mauritius and Cyprus.” In the same article, the name of one Hassan Ali of Pune is mentioned as operating with his wife a one-billion-dollar illegal Swiss account with “sanction of the Indian regime”.

A third story narrated in the damaging article is that of the former chief minister of Jharkhand, Madhu Koda, who was reported to have funds in various tax havens that were partly used to buy mines in Liberia. “Unfortunately, the Indian public do not know the status of that enquiry,” the article concluded.

“In the nastiest business scam in Indian records (Satyam) the government adroitly covered up the political aspects of the swindle — predominantly involving real estate,” wrote an Austrian newspaper. “If the Indian Prime Minister knows nothing about these scandals, he is ignorant of ground realities and does not deserve to be Prime Minister. If he does, is he a collaborator in crime?”

The Telegraph of the UK reported the 2G scam saying: “Naturally, India's elephantine legal system will ensure culpability, is delayed.”

Blinded by wealth

This seems true. In the European mind, caricature of a typical Indian encompasses qualities of falsification, telling lies, being fraudulent, dishonest, corrupt, arrogant, boastful, speaking loudly and bothering others in public places or, while travelling, swindling when the slightest of opportunity arises and spreading rumours about others. The list is truly incessant.

My father, who is 81 years old, is utterly frustrated, shocked and disgruntled with whatever is happening and said in a recent discussion that our country's motto should truly be Asatyameva Jayete.

Europeans believe that Indian leaders in politics and business are so blissfully blinded by the new, sometimes ill-gotten, wealth and deceit that they are living in defiance, insolence and denial to comprehend that the day will come, sooner than later, when the have-nots would hit the streets.

In a way, it seems to have already started with the monstrous and grotesque acts of the Maoists. And, when that rot occurs, not one political turncoat will escape being lynched.

The drumbeats for these rebellions are going to get louder and louder as our leaders refuse to listen to the voices of the people. Eventually, it will lead to a revolution that will spill to streets across the whole of India, I fear.

Perhaps we are the architects of our own misfortune. It is our sab chalta hai (everything goes) attitude that has allowed people to mislead us with impunity. No wonder Aesop said. “We hang the petty thieves and appoint the great ones to high office.”

(The author is former Europe Director, CII, and lives in Cologne, Germany. blfeedback@thehindu.co.in.)

My thoughts:-- Kasab versus Union Carbide

Kasab is a terrorist.
Union Carbide (UC) is a company.

He intentionally and willingly killed people.
UC disaster was negligence and led to a number of deaths.

He killed a few hundred people.
In Bhopal there were thousands of people who died.

26/11 left an impact in the heart.
2/12 left an impact in the heart, psyche and continues to show itself in deformed off-springs.

All demonstrations to do with Kasab make news.
Very few demonstration by the UC leak victims are covered.

Kasab is safely behind bars.
Industrial Toxic Waste from the UC factory continues to poison the water and soil in Bhopal.

India cheers as Kasab will be hanged.
There is hardly any concern about the Bhopal Gas Tragedy victims.

Kasab is sentenced to death within a year and a half.
No one is sentenced after 25 years of the UC disaster.

Bullets Are Not The Answer To Development

from www.downtoearth.org.in, the online edition of Down To Earth magazine, a leading science & environment fortnightly published by Society for Environmental Communications (Centre for Science & Environment, CSE India)

The massacre of 76 policemen in Dantewada by naxalites is reprehensible. Yet we cannot brush aside the underlying poverty, deprivation and sheer lack of justice that are breeding tension and anger in vast areas of rural, tribal India. We cannot say that these developmental issues are long term—as the Congress spokesperson has reportedly said—while the immediate task is to annihilate the Naxalites. Because, unless we can fix what is broken here, let us be very clear, there is no real solution at hand.

I have written earlier about the devastating irony that vast parts of our country, that are the richest in terms of minerals, forests and water, are also where the poorest people live. Again I ask, again and again: what is wrong with our development model that the poorest people live in the richest lands of the country?

We know naxalites profit from the anger against the collective loot of the resources these lands possess. These are the lands we get minerals from; the electricity that lights our homes is enabled here. But the people who live there have no electricity. They should own the minerals, or forests; they should profit from development. But they get no benefit from the resources that are simply extracted. By policy and design, their lands are taken away, their forest cut, water polluted, their livelihoods destroyed. Development makes them poorer than they were.

But we want to hear none of this. A few years ago, in Raipur, Chhattisgarh, while releasing our detailed report on mining and environment, I saw how intolerant we have become. The state’s governor was to release the report. But even before we arrived, there was a media buzz our critique of mining policies and practices meant we were partners with naxalites. At the release function, the room was “filled” with mining-at-all-cost supporters. They shouted down any voice that spoke of the problems, and poverty, mining had caused in the region. The governor was visibly in a bind. He could not deny our data and analysis. But he was also desperate to brand us as insurgents who raise uncomfortable issues.

The next day, the machinery whirred into action. It openly challenged us. It presented no data on how it had shared revenues of mining with people. It did not explain how it had controlled the enormous and deadly pollution from the sponge iron factories that encircled the region. It did not also explain why it was allowing open manipulation and misuse of laws to dispossess people from their lands, against their will. It only incited violence against us, saying since we had questioned mining policies and were seeking new answers, we were against development. The next step: we were against the state, so we were with naxalites. With us or against us. This is a Bush slogan, but also a war syndrome, which cannot buy us peace at any cost.

We have to rethink the development India has practised so far. Let’s just think forests. These are the very lands where India’s tree wealth exists. Some 60 per cent of the country’s dense and most bio-diverse and economically rich forests are in these tribal districts. Think minerals now. The bulk of what we need for growth—iron ore for steel, bauxite for aluminium and coal for power stations—is located here. These are also the same districts—poor and backward—our beloved tigers roam in. Here’s where the country’s major watersheds are located.

How can we build a growth model which uses the wealth of the region for local development first? Such a development model would mean listening to people who live on these lands, about what they need and want for their growth. It means seceding to what people want: the right to decide if they want a mine in their backyard, or the forests cut. It means taking democracy very seriously.

If this is accepted, protests will have to be seen in a new light. There are no misguided people, or naxalites, holding up Vedanta in Orissa, or Tata in Chhattisgarh. These many, and there are many, mutinies will have to be carefully heard. This country cannot brush aside people’s concerns, in the name of a ‘considered’ decision taken, in Delhi or somewhere else. Government must stop believing it knows what is best.

Once we accept local veto over development decisions, the tough part begins. For, this means seriously engaging with people to find ways that benefit all. It means sharing revenue from minerals with villagers, not the poisoned peanuts they get now. It means changing priorities: valuing, for instance, a standing forest as protector of water, wildlife, even a low-carbon future. It means paying directly to local communities so that they decide to protect forests, because it benefits them.

Ultimately, listening to dissenters means reinventing development. Accept we cannot mine all the coal, bauxite, iron ore—whatever—that lies below forests people live in, and depend on. It will make us get careful about how to use less minerals for more growth? Can India do more with less? There’s a lesson India’s poor teach: walk lightly on the earth you have. Let us not riddle them with bullets.

—Sunita Narain

The Two-Foot Teenager

Jyoti, the world's smallest girl

Her tiny form is disarming. But Jyoti Amge's dreams are as big as those of her friends. At 15 she stands just 1ft 11½in tall and weighs less than a stone, giving her one very big claim to fame - as the smallest girl in the world. Doctors believe Jyoti is a pituitary dwarf but have never been able to pinpoint her condition. Such dwarfism is caused when the body fails to produce enough growth hormone.

Her little gray uniform is specially made for her. Specialists have told her she will remain the same size for the rest of her life. 'When I was three I realized that I was different to the rest of the kids,' she said. ''I thought that everyone was bigger and I should get bigger too.' Jyoti has her own mini gray uniform and school bag and even a tiny desk. But she looks like a doll next to her teenage classmates.

She said: 'I am proud of being the smallest girl. I love all the attention I get. I'm not scared of being small, and I don't regret being small.' She attends school with her classmates, who she says don't treat her any differently.

She works from her custom made chair and table but her pens and books are still rather too large for her. ''I am sure there are many people in this world who are dwarfs like me. I'm just the same as other people. I eat like you, dream like you. I don't feel any different.'

Weighing 12lb - only 9lb more than her weight at birth, Jyoti dreams of becoming an actress. Despite her size she insists on living as normal a life as possible in her home town of Nagpur in India - including going to the local school.

'When I first went to school everyone was so big I used to get scared but I'm okay now, I like it. I have a different desk and chair that were made for me. I'm a normal student. She is also like any other teenage girl. 'I have a huge collection of dresses. I like to shop for more. Everyone in my family gets things for me. I love make-up and like dressing up like beautiful models. I would like to be an actress when I grow up. My dream is to do films.'

Jyoti has already had a taste of fame in a pop video for Indian star Mika Singh.
'They asked her to appear in the video for a song on his album,' said her mother Ranjana Amge, 45. However, Jyoti's dreams of stardom could be ruined because of fractures to both her legs that have never healed because of problems with her size.

Jyoti is taken to school on brother Satish's motorbike, along with sister Archana. 'First I could walk, but I slipped on ice during a holiday and hurt my leg. I find it strange that my legs just don't heal. I don't like it, it causes me pain.'

Mrs Amge said: 'No-one knows why she is so small. Jyoti is small, yet cute, and we love her very much.' People in the region of India where the family live flock to see the teenager and some even treat her as a goddess. She receives a lot of support from her brother and two sisters. Oldest sister Archana, 25, said: 'I have been taking care of her since she was a small baby. She is so delicate and fragile.' During her first five years of life, brave Jyoti was in and out of hospital as she constantly fell sick, but eventually she grew stronger.

The teenager's father Kishan Amge, 52, a construction worker, said: 'She makes me proud. Lots of saints and spiritual gurus come to see and bless her. They pray for her happiness and long life.'

"God Has Always Been Planning Things For Me" -- Naga Naresh Karutura

The Guy Who Got Into Google (by Shobha Warrier -- July 28, 2008)





Naga Naresh Karutura has just passed out of IIT Madras in Computer Science and has joined Google in Bangalore.

You may ask, what's so special about this 21-year-old when there are hundreds of students passing out from various IITs and joining big companies like Google?

Naresh is special. His parents are illiterate. He has no legs and moves around in his powered wheel chair. (In fact, when I could not locate his lab, he told me over the mobile phone, 'I will come and pick you up'. And in no time, he was there to guide me)

Ever smiling, optimistic and full of spirit; that is Naresh. He says, "God has always been planning things for me. That is why I feel I am lucky."

Read why Naresh feels he is lucky.

Childhood in a village

I spent the first seven years of my life in Teeparru, a small village in Andhra Pradesh, on the banks of the river Godavari. My father Prasad was a lorry driver and my mother Kumari, a house wife. Though they were illiterate, my parents instilled in me and my elder sister (Sirisha) the importance of studying.

Looking back, one thing that surprises me now is the way my father taught me when I was in the 1st and 2nd standards. My father would ask me questions from the text book, and I would answer them. At that time, I didn't know he could not read or write but to make me happy, he helped me in my studies!

Another memory that doesn't go away is the floods in the village and how I was carried on top of a buffalo by my uncle. I also remember plucking fruits from a tree that was full of thorns.

I used to be very naughty, running around and playing all the time with my friends.. I used to get a lot of scolding for disturbing the elders who slept in the afternoon. The moment they started scolding, I would run away to the fields!

I also remember finishing my school work fast in class and sleeping on the teacher's lap!

January 11, 1993, the fateful day

On the January 11, 1993 when we had the sankranti holidays, my mother took my sister and me to a nearby village for a family function. From there we were to go with our grandmother to our native place. But my grandmother did not come there. As there were no buses that day, my mother took a lift in my father's friend's lorry. As there were many people in the lorry, he made me sit next to him, close to the door.

It was my fault; I fiddled with the door latch and it opened wide throwing me out. As I fell, my legs got cut by the iron rods protruding from the lorry. Nothing happened to me except scratches on my legs.

The accident had happened just in front of a big private hospital but they refused to treat me saying it was an accident case. Then a police constable who was passing by took us to a government hospital.

First I underwent an operation as my small intestine got twisted. The doctors also bandaged my legs. I was there for a week. When the doctors found that gangrene had developed and it had reached up to my knees, they asked my father to take me to a district hospital. There, the doctors scolded my parents a lot for neglecting the wounds and allowing the gangrene to develop. But what could my ignorant parents do?

In no time, both my legs were amputated up to the hips.

I remember waking up and asking my mother, where are my legs? I also remember that my mother cried when I asked the question. I was in the hospital for three months.

Life without legs

I don't think my life changed dramatically after I lost both my legs. Because all at home were doting on me, I was enjoying all the attention rather than pitying myself. I was happy that I got a lot of fruits and biscuits.



'I never wallowed in self-pity'


The day I reached my village, my house was flooded with curious people; all of them wanted to know how a boy without legs looked. But I was not bothered; I was happy to see so many of them coming to see me, especially my friends!
All my friends saw to it that I was part of all the games they played; they carried me everywhere.

God's hand

I believe in God. I believe in destiny. I feel he plans everything for you. If not for the accident, we would not have moved from the village to Tanuku, a town. There I joined a missionary school, and my father built a house next to the school. Till the tenth standard, I studied in that school.

If I had continued in Teeparu, I may not have studied after the 10th. I may have started working as a farmer or someone like that after my studies. I am sure God had other plans for me.

My sister, my friend

When the school was about to reopen, my parents moved from Teeparu to Tanuku, a town, and admitted both of us in a Missionary school. They decided to put my sister also in the same class though she is two years older. They thought she could take care of me if both of us were in the same class. My sister never complained.

She would be there for everything. Many of my friends used to tell me, you are so lucky to have such a loving sister. There are many who do not care for their siblings.

She carried me in the school for a few years and after a while, my friends took over the task. When I got the tricycle, my sister used to push me around in the school.

My life, I would say, was normal, as everyone treated me like a normal kid. I never wallowed in self-pity. I was a happy boy and competed with others to be on top and the others also looked at me as a competitor.

Inspiration

I was inspired by two people when in school; my Maths teacher Pramod Lal who encouraged me to participate in various local talent tests, and a brilliant boy called Chowdhary, who was my senior.

When I came to know that he had joined Gowtham Junior College to prepare for IIT-JEE, it became my dream too. I was school first in 10th scoring 542/600.

Because I topped in the state exams, Gowtham Junior College waived the fee for me. Pramod Sir's recommendation also helped. The fee was around Rs 50,000 per year, which my parents could never afford.

Moving to a residential school

Living in a residential school was a big change for me because till then my life centred around home and school and I had my parents and sister to take care of all my needs. It was the first time that I was interacting with society. It took one year for me to adjust to the new life.

There, my inspiration was a boy called K K S Bhaskar who was in the top 10 in IIT-JEE exams. He used to come to our school to encourage us. Though my parents didn't know anything about Gowtham Junior School or IIT, they always saw to it that I was encouraged in whatever I wanted to do.. If the results were good, they would praise me to the skies and if bad, they would try to see something good in that. They did not want me to feel bad.

They are such wonderful supportive parents.

Life at IIT- Madras

Though my overall rank in the IIT-JEE was not that great (992), I was 4th in the physically handicapped category. So, I joined IIT, Madras to study Computer Science.

Here, my role model was Karthik who was also my senior in school. I looked up to him during my years at IIT- Madras.

He had asked for attached bathrooms for those with special needs before I came here itself. So, when I came here, the room had attached bath. He used to help me and guide me a lot when I was here.

I evolved as a person in these four years, both academically and personally. It has been a great experience studying here. The people I was interacting with were so brilliant that I felt privileged to sit along with them in the class. Just by speaking to my lab mates, I gained a lot..

'There are more good people in society than bad ones'

Words are inadequate to express my gratitude to Prof Pandurangan and all my lab mates; all were simply great. I was sent to Boston along with four others for our internship by Prof Pandurangan. It was a great experience.

Joining Google R&D

I did not want to pursue PhD as I wanted my parents to take rest now.

Morgan Stanley selected me first but I preferred Google because I wanted to work in pure computer science, algorithms and game theory.

I am lucky

Do you know why I say I am lucky?

I get help from total strangers without me asking for it. Once after my second year at IIT, I with some of my friends was travelling in a train for a conference. We met a kind gentleman called Sundar in the train, and he has been taking care of my hostel fees from then on.

I have to mention about Jaipur foot. I had Jaipur foot when I was in 3rd standard. After two years, I stopped using them. As I had almost no stems on my legs, it was very tough to tie them to the body. I found walking with Jaipur foot very, very slow. Sitting also was a problem. I found my tricycle faster because I am one guy who wants to do things faster.

One great thing about the hospital is, they don't think their role ends by just fixing the Jaipur foot; they arrange for livelihood for all. They asked me what help I needed from them. I told them at that time, if I got into an IIT, I needed financial help from them. So, from the day I joined IIT, Madras, my fees were taken care of by them. So, my education at the IIT was never a burden on my parents and they could take care of my sister's Nursing studies.

Surprise awaited me at IIT

After my first year, when I went home, two things happened here at the Institute without my knowledge.

I got a letter from my department that they had arranged a lift and ramps at the department for me. It also said that if I came a bit early and checked whether it met with my requirements, it would be good.

Second surprise was, the Dean, Prof Idichandy and the Students General Secretary, Prasad had located a place that sold powered wheel chairs. The cost was Rs 55,000. What they did was, they did not buy the wheel chair; they gave me the money so that the wheel chair belonged to me and not the institute.

My life changed after that. I felt free and independent.

That's why I say I am lucky. God has planned things for me and takes care of me at every step.

The world is full of good people

I also feel if you are motivated and show some initiative, people around you will always help you. I also feel there are more good people in society than bad ones. I want all those who read this to feel that if Naresh can achieve something in life, you can too.

Sahyadris Have Been Documenting The Changing Climate For 40 Years

from www.downtoearth.org.in, the online edition of Down To Earth magazine, a leading science & environment fortnightly published by Society for Environmental Communications (Centre for Science & Environment, CSE India)



The latest joke among the Mahadeo Koli tribals living in the Bhimashankar area of Maharashtra’s Pune district is: “Ovni zali ka? (Have you transplanted your paddy?)” In the rain drenched Sahyadri range, where the main food crop is paddy, the unseasonal rains brought on by cyclone Phyan in late November have caused the harvested crop of fragrant Raibhog paddy to sprout shoots. This has made crops in entire villages unfit as food or seed. With starvation and loss of seed stock staring in the face, people can do little but joke about the calamity.

As elsewhere, changing weather conditions wreaking havoc on farmers is nothing new. What is, is the fact that for the last 20-odd years, residents of some 10 villages of Kolis in the western hills of the Ambegaon tehsil have been documenting the changes in climatic conditions and their impact.With the help of the non-profit Shashwat, tribals of these villages have learnt to note their observations using terms like climate change; they say such terms are necessary to make sense of their predicament.

“Till about the 1970s, the rainfall pattern in the area could be predicted like clockwork,” said Dhondabai Asawle, the 80-plus matriarch, revered both for her deep knowledge of weather phenomena and her ability to articulate her observations in city language. “We planned our agricultural activities around the time-table of nakshatras (stars). And till I was in my 40s, I do not remember the timetable ever failing us.” The 27 nakshatras in Vedic astrometeorology indicate the overall weather pattern for the year.

Wind blows fierce on barren hills
According to Dhondabai, the rainfall pattern started changing, following massive tree-cutting on the hills by coal contractors in the early 1970s. “For almost a decade, these contractors would clear vast tracts of hillsides, and make coal from the wood in large furnaces,” she said. “There were fires burning day and night on the hillsides for several months every year.” The deforestation stopped when in the 1990s, 50 villages backed by Shashwat, waged a struggle to save their devrai s—sacred forests. Dhawdaji Gawari of village Pimpargani remembers two things happened immediately after the hills were denuded: “The temperatures went up and strong winds started blowing; both were bad for our crops.”

Shortly after that disturbances in the rainfall cycle began to be felt. The community has maintained detailed records of these. Dhondabai recalled, all through her childhood and youth, millets were sowed on Akshaya Tritiya. This auspicious day in the Vedic calendar falling in April-May came soon after light showers in the Kritika Nakshatra. “Light but regular rains starting with the Rohini Nakshatra followed soon after,” she added. “After the rains started, paddy seedlings were prepared, and transplanted at the onset of the Mruga Nakshatra when the rains intensified.”

It was as if the entire rainfall cycle was tailored to the needs of crops, say elders. The stars depicting early rainfall, said Zaoji Gawari, were characterized by light rain, just right for the young seedlings. Then come regular heavy rains needed for the rapid growth of the now strong seedlings, the later stars foretell sporadic rain beneficial to crops at the seed-formation stage. “By Diwali, when the crops were ready for harvest, the rains would disappear altogether, not to return till the next year,” he said.

After the deforestation, the pattern began to change, a little at a time. “Every year, the onset of rain was delayed by a day or two. By the second half of the 1980s, the Rohini rains had disappeared almost completely, and we took to sowing at the onset of Mruga,” said Dondabai.

The ground remains charred on the hills where coal was fired in the 1970s; (right) an exceptionally lucky farmer dries his rice yield when untimely rain ruined most of the harvest
Till almost the end of the 1990s, Mruga rains remained more or less stable; then they too began to waver.

In the last decade, says Dhondabai’s formally educated son Sanjay, the rains receded rapidly. “In the early part of the decade, the Mruga rains were hardly seen. This year’s phenomenal one month delay in sowing is, to us, nothing but the next stage in an ongoing process of 40 years.” For the last 4-5 years, Dhawdaji said, “the monsoon has been split into two. The rains disappear for weeks, sometimes a whole month, after the initial spell and return later, often continuing into harvest time.”

The changing rainfall pattern means the area gets less rain each year. Records of the meteorology department’s Bhimashankar and Dimbhe observatories reinforce what the villagers have noted over the decades. Rainfall has declined by 2,000 mm annually, dropping from 7,000 and 2,500 mm respectively in the early 1990s to 5,000 and 1,500 mm at present. This has led to other changes. “Till about 40 years back, summers were pleasantly warm and winters were very cold. Now we have uncomfortably hot summers and winter comes as late as November-end,” said Goin Pardhi of village Dimbhe.

Earlier, winter set in close on the heels of the receding monsoon, but now it gets warm again between monsoon and November, Pardhi added. This second summer is playing havoc with people’s health, giving rise to infectious diseases never seen in the area earlier—especially viral and gastric infections. “Winter has lost its bite as both fog and dew have decreased progressively,” Dondabai said.

Less dew means less food
The change in the rainfall pattern and the disappearance of dew, which kept the soil moist in winter, has depleted food sources. Agricultural produce has fallen to half and repeated crop failures have shaken the fragile economy. Mahadeo Kolis have traditionally depended on a variety of uncultivated vegetables, fruits, crabs, fish and large amounts of milk from their cattle. All these have now practically gone.

“Several varieties of vegetables like Chava and Bhokri have disappeared from the forests,” says Dhondabai, “We used to gather ample amounts of summer fruits like mango, jamun and toran (karonde, carissa carandus), which we ate and sold, but we find less and less each year. This year, we had no fruits and no hirda either.” The medicinal herb hirda (haritaki, chebulic myroblan), is their most important source of cash.

When the rains failed three years ago, large amounts of grass in the forests disappeared, said Dhondabai. “In its place a tough, spiky variety now grows that our cattle can’t feed on.” The fodder crisis has been building up for years, causing a steady stream of cattle deaths. “Families that owned 50 to 100 cattle 30 years ago now have between 1 and 5 animals,” she said.

Water has been another casualty. The numberless perennial streams, which were replenished by dew post-monsoon have been drying up fast as dew fails the forests. Tribal elders say they are left feeling defeated by all these changes. “Nothing ever turns out right,” said Dondabai. Earlier, we would have called it the wrath of the gods.

“It is not as if the people have not done their bit,” said Kusum Karnik, forest rights activist who heads Shashwat. “They have fought to protect their sacred groves and surrounding forests, they have done watershed work to conserve water, they have rejected hybrid seeds. The only thing left, I suppose, is that they be heard in larger fora, and their insights be taken seriously.”