Cobbler’s son cracks IIT – Inspiring Success story

Abhishek Kumar Bharti, son of a poor shoemaker from Kanpur, whose family lives in a 10×10 house has cracked the entrance examination of the most premier institute of the country IIT.

The son of a cobbler, Abhishek has managed to beat the odds and make it to the IIT with a rank of 154 in the SC/ ST category in the entrance examination. His life has been an endless struggle and it’s only his zeal to carry on that saw him reach thus far.

A student of the UP board, Abhishek gathered 78 per cent marks in his class XII. Though he hails from a financially weak segment of the society but his deep inclination towards studies helped in meeting his goal – Goal to graduate from IIT.

He helps his father, a cobbler, mend shoes in his spare time while his mother stitches rags to support the family, but financial hardships have not stopped Abhishek Kumar Bhartiya from coming out with flying colours in the IIT entrance exam.

Abhishek has three young brothers and the family of six lives in a one room accommodation with no electricity.

“We have just one small room where six of us live and that too without electricity. So, he used to study under the lantern for five-six hours in the night,” says his father Rajendra Prasad.
Abhishek would work with his father as a shoeshine boy and at times would find a job as a labourer to earn some extra money. Talking about his elder son, Rajendra said, “He used to study in the night and help me in my work the whole day.

His three brothers – Abhijit, Anshul and Aryan – are below 12 years of age and study in a municipal school. Their mother Sangeeta Devi repairs old clothes of poor people and earns about Rs 50 a day. “My husband gets around Rs 100 and I earn Rs 50 in a day. It is not enough for us. But we don’t want to beg. We want to live with our heads held high. My children know how to go ahead with their pride intact. Abhishek never demanded anything from us. The table of my sewing machine would turn into his study table at night. All I did was to ensure that there was enough kerosene in the lantern,” she said.
Moved with the achievement made by her son, Sangeeta Devi said, “We have been living without basic facilities at our end because we cannot afford to buy luxuries. Selection of my son has come as a gift to us from the God’s side. His hardwork has borne fruits.”

Abhishek emerged as a fine example for others who wish to crack the entrance exam of various competitions. He not only lacked electricity at his house but it was too tough for him to study in a small room of 10-by-10 wherein his entire family lives. His father is the bread earner and many a times he used to work as a labourer for six to eight hours in a day to arrange for the two ends to meet. Abhishek used to assist his father in doing so.

Mahesh Singh Chauhan, the teacher of Abhishek who provided the boy with free education was overwhelmed with the success. Chauhan had raised a batch of 35 students last year wherein he had taken poor students as a part of his team. He taught them the basics of Physics, Chemistry and Maths alongwith a team of young IIT passouts to strengthen them. Abhishek was one among those fortunates who cracked the JEE and emerged as a winner.

http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/kanpur/Cobblers-son-cracks-IIT-JEE/articleshow/5978149.cms

( 6 ) Comments

Inspiring Success stories of people who fought disabilities

Life is tough for those born with a disability, traumatic for those whom disability strikes like a bolt from the blue, and a catastrophe for those who cannot cope with such an eventuality. Featured here are a cross-section of amazing Indians who managed to achieve the impossible in the face of great physical handicaps.

The never-say-die attitude of these brave men and women will always serve as an inspiration for generations to come.

Mansur Ali Khan Pataudi

The Indian cricket captain from 1962 to 1970, popularly called Tiger Pataudi met with a nasty car accident in the early 1960s resulting in complete loss of vision of his right eye. This was just when he was at the threshold of a great future. He continued playing undeterred by this big blow and went on to not only continue playing the game but also captained the side. Regarded as one of India’s more successful cricket captains, Tiger Pataudi was the Wisden Cricketer of the Year in 1968.

Amitabh Bachchan

The reigning superstar of Bollywood in the 1970s, Big B’s magnificent run came to a stop when he met with a near fatal accident on the sets of the film Coolie. Though he miraculously recovered after long hospitilisation, he was not fit enough to carry on acting like in his salad days. After short stints of acting and retirement which also saw him start his own company ABCL that eventually proved a failure and led him to incur massive financial losses, Amitabh recovered lost ground after the stupendous success of the tele-show Kaun Banega Crorepati which he successfully anchored. He also resumed acting thanks to his great will power, resilience and solid support from family and friends.

Recently, Amitabh admitted that he had liver cirrhosis, a result of the Coolie accident. Apparently one of the donor blood bottles was infected with Australian antigen hepatitis. But Big B is braving the malady with a smile and in addition to blogging has started tweeting as well.

Hrithik Roshan

Not many know that the mega star has been suffering from a major stuttering problem ever since age 6 and has gone through several painful speech therapy sessions to improve his speech. He continues with speech therapy even now fearing that he may get back to stuttering and incoherent speech.

Sudha Chandran

A highly talented dancer who started giving public performances at a very young age, life dealt a very cruel blow to Sudha Chandran when she was seriously injured in a bus mishap in Tamil Nadu. The ensuing hospitilisation and medical negligence led to her leg developing gangrene and an amputation. Only 17 then, the young dancer was in a state of shock for months together. The realisation that she could try to get back to dancing dawned to her when she heard of the famous Jaipur Foot. Many visits to Jaipur and several dancing trials later, the brave woman mastered dancing with the Foot. Her life story was made into a block buster film called Nache Mayuri in which she played her role. Though not into active dancing now, Sudha Chandran is a familiar face on TV serials and shows.

Ravindra Jain

The renowned music director who scored the music for such hit films like Chitchor, Saudagar and Ram Teri Ganga Maili was born blind. Noticing his flair for songs and music, Ravindra Jain ‘s parents sent him to music classes at a very early age. From then on, there was no looking back. Besides being a composer, Ravindra Jain is also a good singer.

Hemant Trivedi

He belongs to the crème de la crème of the Indian fashion scene and was the only male to graduate from the prestigious Western Australian Institute of Design, Perth. Almost a decade back, Hemant Trivedi was all but dead in a terrible car accident in Mumbai. Timely medical intervention thanks to his mobile phone helped the designer recover and recuperate.

Leander Paes

With a string of international championship wins, Leander Paes has put the traumatic period in 2003 when he was hospitalised for suspected cancer, behind him. Luckily for the tennis star, the diagnosis turned out to be negative and he was found to be affected by neurocysticercosis, another name for a parasitic brain infection.

Dr Jaipal Reddy

The 68-year-old Minister for Urban Development who is wheelchair bound or uses crutches is one of the livewires of the present cabinet. In 1998, he was awarded the Outstanding Parliamentarian Award for his prowess in tackling political debates.

Sandeep Singh

The former Indian hockey team captain and penalty corner specialist Sandeep Singh was grievously injured after being accidentally struck on the abdomen by a stray bullet. The incident that happened aboard the Shatabdi Express resulted in the player missing out on the 2006 Hockey World Cup. He survived the ordeal and went on to resume playing for the country.

Sharad Pawar

The Minister of Agriculture and Minister of Consumer Affairs, Food and Public Distribution, has had multiple operations around his mouth for removing tumours and lesions. The resulting contortions on his face have definitely hampered his speech but not his spirit. In some months to come he will be taking over as the President of the International Cricket Council (ICC).

Abhishek Bachchan

Abhishek Bachchan was dyslexic when he was a child and attended a special school. The critically acclaimed film Taare Zameen Par which evolves around childhood dyslexia cites Abhishek’s case of a child with dyslexia who went on to not only conquer the disorder but also became a big achiever.

Salil Ankola

The dashing all-rounder made his international cricket debut in the same match as maestro Sachin Tendulkar. Later, in spite of being in the national teams several times over, he never got to play a match which resulted in an additional term in cricket jargon called ‘Ankolad’. His cricket career came to an abrupt halt when a tumour was detected on his shin around the year 1997.The affliction resulted in him having around 34 stress fractures. After his cricket career ended Ankola took to acting on the small screen and has acted in several shows like Balaji Telefilms’ Karam Apna Apna and also Season 1 of Big Boss. He also acted in a couple of Bollywood films like Chura Liyaa Hai Tumne.

Lisa Ray

A familiar face on the Indian advertisement scene ever since she appeared in a Bombay Dyeing ad with Karan Kapoor, the Canadian-born model, whose father is a Bengali and mother Polish, Lisa Ray has also acted in quite a few films notably Deepa Mehta’s Oscar-nominated film Water.

In June 2009, Ray was diagnosed with multiple myeloma and had been undergoing treatment. A stem cell transplant in April this year has completely cured her of the cancer and the actress who put up a brave face all through her battle with the dreaded disease is now back in the thick of action.

Sonali Rathod

The singer who is married to tabla player-turned singer Roop Kumar Rathod had a serious throat problem in the middle of her career and almost lost her voice. She resumed her career later and was instrumental in her husband’s transformation from a tabla player to a singer. Incidentally, Sonali Rathod was first married to noted singer Anup Jalota.

Other notable personalities who took disability in their stride include Sant Surdas, the 14th century singer and composer who was born blind and endured lots of hardship after he was shunned by his family; popular Doordarshan newsreader Sheila Chaman who met with a terrible accident that led to her having around 750 stitches on her face and many plastic surgeries before she resumed her career; wheelchair-bound sportswoman Malathi Holla, a Paralympic gold medallist, former National Badminton champion Rajiv Bagga who was born deaf; and legendary Hindusthani singer Kumar Gandharva who was afflicted with lung cancer at the prime of his career and had to have the cancerous lung removed.

These are but a few of the numerous brave Indians who have battled disability and gone on to shine in their respective careers or taken up an alternative career. Hats of to these brave men and women featured here and those not featured here who live by example.

Source: India Syndicate

http://lifestyle.in.msn.com/gallery.aspx?cp-documentid=3929964

( 2 ) Comments

Secrets of Success of Saina Nehwal

Saina Nehwal ranks third among the top singles badminton players in the world and is the only Indian to have reached the singles quarter finals at the Olympics, and won the World Junior Badminton Championships in 2008. 20 year old Saina Nehwal’s three titles in three weeks is a phenomenal achievement for the Indian sport.

Saina was born in Hisar, Haryana,India and spent her complete life in city of Hyderabad. Her foray into the world of badminton was influenced by her father Dr. Harvir Singh, a scientist at the Directorate of Oilseeds Research, Hyderabad and her mother Usha Nehwal, both of whom were former badminton champions in Haryana.

What does it take to make a badminton star like Saina Nehwal? Ask her father Harvir Singh.

If Saina battles it out on the badminton court against the world’s best players, it has been no less a battle for her father to let her do the same.

Rarely a middle-class family can think of spending half of the monthly income on an eight-year-old child’s training without knowing if the gamble would pay off.

But Harvir Singh, a Scientist with the Directorate of Oilseeds Research Hyderabad, opted to go by the advice of PSS Nani Prasad Rao, the then badminton coach of the Sports Authority of Andhra Pradesh (SAAP), who saw immense potential in the girl.

“I met Nani Prasad Rao in December, 1998, at Lal Bahadur Stadium in Hyderabad. Saina was standing with a badminton racket on the court and he asked her to play. After watching her game, he said,‘She has the potential and if you want to train her, bring her to me as a summer trainee,” Harvir said.

The tough journey had started. Saina had to be taken to the stadium every day early in the morning and the distance from the house was 20 km.

“It was a challenge for both of us because I had to wake up early so that we could reach the stadium by 6 am. The training session used to last for about two hours.

After attending the training session, Saina had to attend school. This way I had to drive my scooter around 50 km daily as Saina, apart from attending rigorous practice sessions, had to concentrate on studies,” her father explained.

The impact of this tough routine began to show in the first week as Saina would often fall asleep on the back seat.

Sensing the danger, Saina’s mother started accompanying them on the two-wheeler. This continued for three months.

Ultimately, the family had to arrange a house near the stadium in 1999. This time the distance was about 7 km from the stadium.

But the travelling ordeal did not end here as Saina was asked to attend evening training sessions as well.

“With an extra training session, the travelling expenditure rose to Rs 150 per day. Added to this was the cost of training. Shuttles, racket, shoes, guttings and what not had to be purchased regularly. I spent around Rs 12,000 every month to keep her going those days,” Harvir said.

But how did the family manage such high-cost training? Saina’s father revealed that he had to sacrifice his savings.

“I started withdrawing money from my provident fund. Sometimes it was Rs 30,000 and other times it was nearly Rs 1 lakh. It happened more than five times when I had to shell out money from my PF savings due to Saina’s various requirements,” said Harvir.

He stated that the tight-rope walk continued till 2002 until Yonex Sunrise sports offered to sponsor Saina’s kit.

“It came as a big relief. Fortunately, she got BPCL support late in 2004. Ultimately, she was spotted by Mittal Sports Trust in December, 2005.

“But I had never disclosed to Saina my financial difficulties fearing that she might get disturbed knowing that her father was left with no savings for the future,” he said.

When asked if they got any help from the sports authorities, the answer said it all.

“Till 2003, she was getting Rs 600 per month from the Sports Authority of India (SAI). It was raised to Rs 2,500 in June, 2003. You can understand how I could have managed,” Harvir said.

Apart from the training cost, hefty telephone bills put extra financial burden on the family when Saina started touring foreign countries for events.

The byte-crazy media played a part too. Wherever she went, be it the Philippines or South Korea, her phone kept ringing.

“A major part of the prize money that Saina got from big competitions like the Philippines Open and World Junior Championship was utilised in paying her mobile bills, which were between Rs 40,000 and Rs 50,000 in the touring months,” he said.

But was the prize money enough when she began her career? “Saina was given just Rs 300 as prize money after winning the under-10 state level competition, held in Tirupati in 1999. The period between 1999-2004 was very trying for the family as we did not get any sponsor for her,” Harvir said.

It was not only the financial burden but the risk of lagging behind on the educational front which added to the pressure.

Saina had to skip examinations twice. She did not take her first year intermediate exams because of the Melbourne Commonwealth Games and later in May, she could not write supplementary exams as she was in the Philippines.

At present she is studying in the second year at Saint Ann’s College, Mehdipatnam Hyderabad. Ironically, the family, despite her big success at the international level, has not been able to celebrate much.

“She has never been to any party, any restaurant or cinema in the past seven years. When the electronic media personnel visited my home in May last year for shooting of a programme, I could not even offer them sweets. Do I need to explain why,” he said.

The key to Saina’s Success is simple. Know and set your goal. Stick to one goal – if you chase two rabbits, both will escape. Knowing the goal clearly is crucial. People with a goal succeed because they know where they are going..

http://saina-nehwal.blogspot.com/2008/06/biography_22.html

( 11 ) Comments

Man foils 160 suicides with tea and sympathy

In those bleak moments when the lost souls stood atop the cliff, wondering whether to jump, the sound of the wind and the waves was broken by a soft voice. “Why don’t you come and have a cup of tea?” the stranger would ask. And when they turned to him, his smile was often their salvation.

For almost 50 years, Don Ritchie has lived across the street from Australia’s most notorious suicide spot, a rocky cliff at the entrance to Sydney Harbour called The Gap. And in that time, the man widely regarded as a guardian angel has shepherded countless people away from the edge.

What some consider grim, Ritchie considers a gift. How wonderful, the former life insurance salesman says, to save so many. How wonderful to sell them life.

“You can’t just sit there and watch them,” says Ritchie, now 84, perched on his beloved green leather chair, from which he keeps a watchful eye on the cliff outside. “You gotta try and save them. It’s pretty simple.”

He’s saved 160 people, according to the official tally, but that’s only an estimate. Ritchie doesn’t keep count. He just knows he’s watched far more walk away from the edge than go over it.

Dianne Gaddin likes to believe Ritchie was at her daughter’s side before she jumped in 2005. Though he can’t remember now, she is comforted by the idea that Tracy felt his warmth in her final moments.
“He’s an angel,” she says. “Most people would be too afraid to do anything and would probably sooner turn away and run away. But he had the courage and the charisma and the care and the magnetism to reach people who were coming to the end of their tether.”
Each morning, he climbs out of bed, pads over to the bedroom window of his modest, two-story home, and scans the cliff. If he spots anyone standing alone too close to the precipice, he hurries to their side.

Some he speaks with are fighting medical problems, others suffering mental illness. Sometimes, the ones who jump leave behind reminders of themselves on the edge — notes, wallets, shoes. Ritchie once rushed over to help a man on crutches. By the time he arrived, the crutches were all that remained.

In his younger years, he would occasionally climb the fence to hold people back while Moya called the police. He would help rescue crews haul up the bodies of those who couldn’t be saved. And he would invite the rescuers back to his house afterward for a comforting drink.

It all nearly cost him his life once. A chilling picture captured decades ago by a local news photographer shows Ritchie struggling with a woman, inches from the edge. The woman is seen trying to launch herself over the side — with Ritchie the only thing between her and the abyss. Had she been successful, he would have gone over, too.

These days, he keeps a safer distance. The council installed security cameras this year and the invention of mobile phones means someone often calls for help before he crosses the street.
But he remains available to lend an ear, though he never tries to counsel, advise or pry. He just gives them a warm smile, asks if they’d like to talk and invites them back to his house for tea. Sometimes, they join him.

“I’m offering them an alternative, really,” Ritchie says. “I always act in a friendly manner. I smile.”
A smile cannot, of course, save everyone; the motivations behind suicide are too varied. But simple kindness can be surprisingly effective. Mental health professionals tell the story of a note left behind by a man who jumped off San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge. If one person smiles at me on the way to the bridge, the man wrote, I will not jump.

By offering compassion, Ritchie helps those who are suicidal think beyond the terrible present moment, says psychiatrist Gordon Parker, executive director of the Black Dog Institute, a mood disorder research center that has supported the council’s efforts to improve safety at The Gap.

“They often don’t want to die, it’s more that they want the pain to go away,” Parker says. “So anyone that offers kindness or hope has the capacity to help a number of people.”

Kevin Hines wishes someone like Ritchie was there the day he jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge in 2000. For 40 agonizing minutes, the then-19-year-old paced the bridge, weeping, and hoping someone would ask him what was wrong. One tourist finally approached — but simply asked him to take her picture. Moments later, he jumped.

Hines, who suffers from bipolar disorder, was severely injured, but eventually recovered. Today he says if one person had shown they were not blind to his pain, he probably would never have jumped.
“A smile can go a long way — caring can go even further. And the fact that he offers them tea and he just listens, he’s really all they wanted,” Hines says. “He’s all a lot of suicidal people want.”

In 2006, the government recognized Ritchie’s efforts with a Medal of the Order of Australia, among the nation’s highest civilian honors. It hangs on his living room wall above a painting of a sunshine someone left in his mailbox. On it is a message calling Ritchie “an angel that walks amongst us.”

He smiles bashfully. “It makes you — oh, I don’t know,” he says, looking away. “I feel happy about it.”
But he speaks readily and fondly of one woman he saved, who came back to thank him. He spotted her sitting alone one day, her purse already beyond the fence. He invited her to his house to meet Moya and have tea. The couple listened to her problems and shared breakfast with her. Eventually, her mood improved and she drove home.

A couple of months later, she returned with a bottle of champagne. And about once a year, she visits or writes, assuring them she is happy and well.

There have been a few, though, that he could not save. One teenager ignored his coaxings and suddenly jumped. A wind blew the boy’s hat into Ritchie’s outstretched hand.

He later found out the teen had lived next door, years earlier. His mother brought Ritchie flowers and thanked him for trying. If you couldn’t have talked him out of it, she told him, no one could.

Despite all he has seen, he says he is not haunted by the ones who were lost. He cannot remember the first suicide he witnessed, and none have plagued his nightmares. He says he does his best with each person, and if he loses one, he accepts that there was nothing more he could have done.
Nor have he and Moya ever felt burdened by the location of their home.

“I think, ‘Isn’t it wonderful that we live here and we can help people?’” Moya says, her husband nodding in agreement.

Their life has been a good one, they say. They raised three beautiful daughters and now have three grandchildren to adore. They have traveled the world, and their home is decorated with statues and masks from their journeys. Ritchie proudly points out a dried, shellacked piranha — a souvenir from their vacation to the Amazon, where he insisted on swimming with the creatures (to Moya’s dismay).

Until about a year ago, the former Navy seaman enjoyed a busy social life, regularly lunching with friends. But battles with cancer and his advancing years have taken their toll, and now he spends most days at home with Moya, buried in a good book. His current read: the Dalai Lama’s The Art of Happiness.
Every now and then, he looks up from his books to scan the horizon for anyone who might need him. He’ll keep doing so, he says, for as long as he’s here.

And when he’s not? He chuckles softly.

“I imagine somebody else will come along and do what I’ve been doing.”

http://ibnlive.in.com/news/man-foils-160-suicides-with-tea-and-sympathy/124366-19-93.html?from=blaze

( 3 ) Comments

Inspiring story of Office boy who became Chief Justice of India

Justice Sarosh Homi Kapadia, the seniormost judge of the Supreme Court, was sworn in as the 38th Chief Justice of India.

Read his inspiring life story as expressed by his friends and colleagues..

When a wide-eyed Parsi teenager with a slightly unkempt look first arrived at the plush law offices of Behramjee Jeejeebhoy in the Fort area of Mumbai in the early 1960s, stenographer Perin Driver thought he had probably lost his way. The boy, “a petite little thing” as she now recalls, had come to join work as a office help to add to his family’s income. Along the way, even before he started to study law, Sarosh Homi Kapadia began harbouring ambitions to become a judge.

Last week, that ambition scaled its peak when the humble Parsi boy from Mumbai took over as the Chief Justice of India.

And among the first things he did was to remember his roots in a letter he wrote to retired Justice V R Krishna Iyer, thanking him for his felicitations.

“I come from a poor family. I started my career as a class IV employee and the only asset I possess is integrity…” Kapadia wrote. The new Chief Justice may have stressed on his past only in passing to underline a character that is being increasingly considered as critical for the country’s judiciary.

But those who knew him and worked with him in his early days feel Kapadia’s journey from South Mumbai to Central Delhi is nothing but remarkable.

“He was a young boy when he joined us as an office boy to help the senior counsels with their heavy case briefs. His self-conscious demeanour would force me to wonder at times what this chap was doing in such a smart law firm,” says Driver, now in her 70s.

Over the last week or so, that wonderment has transformed into complete admiration. “Even before Sarosh had started studying law, he was determined to write competitive exams and rise up to becoming a judge one day. It just feels great to have him as the Chief Justice of the country today,” Driver told The Sunday Express.

Kapadia was born to a genteel, lower-middle-class Parsi family in the Girgaum area of South Mumbai. His father was a clerk in a defence establishment and his mother a housewife. And a good higher education was a luxury.

He first ensured that he earned enough to support his father and finance his younger brother’s studies before he could start his journey as a lawyer,” said his friend Sudhir Talsania. “He applied for his licence to practice law only when he was 27.”

Talsania and Kapadia, who did his B.A. (Honours) and LL.B., joined a firebrand and highly respected labour lawyer, Feroze Damania. Kapadia moved to a simple apartment in Andheri, met Shahnaz who worked in a private office in the suburbs, fell in love and married her.

“Sarosh and I had a lot in common. Our love for food and books brought us close. We would travel together by train and would discuss case laws on our way to work and back home,” said Talsania. “The train journeys remain the most memorable part of our formative days. We worked together from 1981 to 1989, when Damania passed away and his firm was dissolved.” The friends, however, drifted apart after Kapadia was appointed an Additional Judge of the Bombay High Court in October 1991.

Senior solicitor Perjor Aatia claims Kapadia sometimes displayed a streak of whimsicalness. “He had a quirky style of argument. A knack to handle revenue laws made him a most wanted lawyer in those days. But he chose to become a judge over a lucrative career,” said Aatia, who worked with Kapadia on several cases including in the areas of environment, banking, industrial disputes and tax law. “It was just his single-minded ambition that took him from genteel poverty to the country’s apex court.”

http://justsamachar.com/national/in-mumbai-a-law-firm-steno-recalls-sarosh-joined-us-as-an-office-boy/?r=http://www.indianexpress.com/news/in-mumbai-a-law-firm-steno-recalls-sarosh-joined-us-as-an-office-boy/619504/

( 2 ) Comments

“If I can do it, so can others like me.” – Inspiring Life Story

A tumour was discovered inside my spine when I was about eight years old, after I complained of numbness in my legs. It took me almost nine months to walk again. My father is from the Army and so is my husband. Then during my second pregnancy in 1995, my feet would swell up and I would get regular backaches, which were mistaken to be symptoms of pregnancy. The pain got unbearable so I went back to the doctor in Pune who had operated on me. He checked my spine but unfortunately did not check the area where he had operated years ago, so could not diagnose the cause of pain.

At that time, my husband was preparing for exams for a course at the Defence Service Staff College at Wellington near Ooty. Wellington was a hilly area, so it was hard for me to walk on the uneven terrain and the cold made my legs stiff. I’d avoid the stairs and I couldn’t bend or drive or put any kind of strain on my legs. Then in ‘98, my husband got posted at Tilel Valley near Kargil and I went to Jaipur, which was the closest family station for my convenience, and my parents were there too. My dad realised something was wrong and took me to the research and referral hospital in Delhi. In June ’99 the doctors operated on me. By then the damage was so bad that the doctors warned me I would be paralysed after the surgery. I agreed to go ahead because at least I would be alive for my two daughters and my husband.

I went into surgery walking, and I came out paralysed. I had lost muscle control from my torso downwards. When I left the hospital, I made up my mind to lead a normal life. With my supervision and some domestic help, I looked after my home, kids and dog while my husband was away. I had physiotherapy every morning and evening and I grew up again with my kids. The girls and I would wash each other’s hair, I had to learn to change clothes and everything was from point zero for me. I also had to change my eating and drinking habits so that going to the toilet became easier. Being paraplegic, you lose bladder control so you wet yourself often. I had to learn time management with my fluids so that this didn’t happen.

We moved to Ahmednagar after my husband returned from the Kargil sector. We had a piece of land there and our maids used to come from a village nearby where I used to teach the kids once or twice a week. I decided to open a small restaurant on my land and employ the local boys. I started a home delivery place because Ahmednagar has a huge Army student base and the place became a huge hit. I called it D’s Place and is a full-fledged restaurant today.

Then I went for a rehab training course where I learnt some basic tricks of using the wheelchair, how to move to the toilet seat and back etc. Those 45 days were the turning point as I got the confidence to travel. I met Arun Sodhi there, who was a power lifter. He is also a paraplegic and conducts these workshops. He asked me if I would like to swim and I said why not. I won the silver medal at the FESPIC games held in Kuala Lumpur. By then my husband had quit the Army to run the restaurant. He had been extremely supportive throughout it all and when he quit the Army he told me, “This is your time to fly, you do what you have to.” Being a sporty person, I have participated in international sports events for javelin, shot put and swimming and won several medals.

I also took part as a navigator in the Raid de Himalayas car rally, which is the toughest car rally in the world. At 18,000 ft, going for 1800 km is hard and with my bladder problem it was really tough, but I did it and it was a unique experience. Then in February this year, there was the Desert Storm car rally. This time I could participate as a driver in the TSD category and the condition was that a family member should accompany me. So my husband came with me and I was the first physically challenged person who completed the rally. It goes on for six days and many people drop out on the first day itself.

Today I don’t let myself feel limited because of my disability. After all the medals and the accolades, I believe that at 41, if I can do it, so can others like me.

As told to Minal Khona

http://www.deccanchronicle.com/supplementary/%E2%80%98i-went-walking-came-out-disabled%E2%80%99-645

( 9 ) Comments

Ruskin Bond: I have a lifelong allergy for exams

He penned his first novel at the age of 19, and won the prestigious John Llewellyn Rhys Memorial prize for his novel Room on the Roof next year in 1957. Best known as a children’s author, Ruskin Bond has several novels, short stories, poetry collections and children’s books to his credit, some of which have been made into films such as Junoon directed by Shyam Benegal (A Flight of Pigeons) and The Blue Umbrella by Vishal Bharadwaj. Amrita Bose chats with the author about his school days, writing and his love for India .

Where did you go to school and what was it like?

I attended Bishop Cotton School, Shimla as a boarder for eight years. I had mixed feelings about boarding school. I thought I’d much rather be in a day school. Prep school was great fun. We were always up to mischief. I did fairly well in studies and games. But senior school was not that fun because we were told to take life seriously, thanks to our looming career decisions ahead.

When did you start writing?

I was always writing the odd story or two in school, and realised that I wanted to be a writer when I was in school. I was quite a bookworm from my early school days, and was in fact made in-charge of the school library.

Did you study regularly? Or were you a last-minute study type?

I was never interested in exams. I used to hate them and never studied for them.
I was good in humanities subjects like literature and history, which really did not require much effort from me. But I was a complete flop as far as science and maths were concerned. I have a lifelong allergy for exams.

How was college? Where did you study and what did you graduate in?

I never attended college and educated myself in second-hand bookshops. After school, my mother packed me off to England for a better life. In 4-5 months I started missing India badly and desperately wanted to return. I had no money and had to take up a job immediately. I kept a series of jobs, as a clerk in a travel agency and a photography store. Meanwhile I was writing my first novel, out of my yearning for India.

How did you get it published?

It took me a whole year to find a publisher after a couple of rejections. Finally, the famous literary editor and author Diana Athill read my manuscript and suggested that I redraft my novel. I was paid a princely sum of 50 pounds as advance. This was enough for me to travel back to India. Fortunately, Room on the Roof was well-received and I won the John Llewellyn Rhys Memorial prize for it. I started freelancing after I came back to India. There were only a few book publishers in those days but there were several newspapers and magazines during the 1950s that gave me regular work. The pay was just enough to get by.

Is writing a lucrative profession today as compared to the time you started out?

Yes, writing as a profession is much more lucrative today. Especially when you have some published works to your credit. Royalties help out writers a lot. Just freelancing in itself may not be that easy. As far as books go, today Indian writing is doing very well. More and more Indian and foreign publishers are showing interest in publishing works by Indian writers. There is a huge market for books today. In spite of what people say, that reading as a habit has gone, I see much more of it today thanks to the education system and the widespread reading and writing in English as a result of it. Looking back to my school days, in a class of 35 boys, only two or three were interested in reading. Reading was strictly a minority habit then even though we had no distractions of the internet and television.

Should you work in a field you are passionate about or to pay the bills?

    You should always choose a career that is close to your heart. If you do something you don’t like doing you won’t be happy doing it. Also, you should think about what you really want to do at a young age. Don’t be disappointed if things don’t go well in the beginning. Throughout my life I also had many ups and downs. Take a decision and keep at it.

http://getahead.rediff.com/report/2010/jan/18/achiever-in-conversation-with-ruskin-bond.htm

// 0 &&
result.transliterations[0].transliteratedWords.length > 0) {
var res = result.transliterations[0].transliteratedWords[0];
if(callback){
return callback(ele, res);
}
ele.innerHTML = res;
}
}
});
},
getLang: function(code){
for (l in google.language.Languages) {
if(google.language.Languages[l] == code){
return l;
}
}
},
getLanguageForCode: function(code){
var lang = Transliterate.getLang(code);
if(lang){
lang = Transliterate.getCamelizedStr(lang);
}
return lang;
},

getCamelizedStr: function(str){
str = str.toLowerCase();
str = str.substring(0, 1).toUpperCase()+str.substring(1, str.length);
return str;
},

languageChangeHandler: function(defaultev) {
var dropdown = document.getElementById(‘languageDropDown’);
var selOpt = dropdown.options[dropdown.selectedIndex];
var selectedLang = selOpt.value;
if (!selectedLang.match(“Turn”)) {
Transliterate.transliterationControl.setLanguagePair(google.elements.transliteration.LanguageCode.ENGLISH, selectedLang);
Transliterate._controlDiv.title = ‘Type in ‘+selOpt.title + ‘. Click on the checkbox to turn on/off the language setting.’;
if(!defaultev){
Transliterate.setCookie(‘Transliterate_LANG’, selectedLang);
}
Transliterate.currentLanguage = selectedLang;
}
},

afterChange: function() {
var dropdown = document.getElementById(‘languageDropDown’);
var selOpt = dropdown.options[dropdown.selectedIndex];
var selectedLang = selOpt.value;
if (selectedLang.match(“Turn”)) {
for (var i = 0; i < dropdown.options.length; i++) {
if (dropdown.options[i].value == Transliterate.currentLanguage) {
dropdown.selectedIndex = i;
var lang = dropdown.options[i].text;
}
}

if (document.getElementById("checkboxId").checked) {
document.getElementById("checkboxId").checked = false;
document.getElementById("languageDropDown").style.background = "#CDCDCD";
document.getElementById("languageDropDown").style.color = "#8A8384";
document.getElementById("languageDropDown").parentNode.style.background = "#CDCDCD";
document.getElementById("languageDropDown").style.fontWeight = "normal";
dropdown.options[0].text = "Turn " + lang + " ON";
dropdown.options[0].title = "Turn " + lang + " ON";
dropdown.options[0].value = "Turn " + lang + " ON";
} else {
document.getElementById("checkboxId").checked = true;
document.getElementById("languageDropDown").style.background = "#92C166";
document.getElementById("languageDropDown").style.color = "#000000";
document.getElementById("languageDropDown").parentNode.style.background = "#92C166";
document.getElementById("languageDropDown").style.fontWeight = "bold";
dropdown.options[0].text = "Turn " + lang + " OFF";
dropdown.options[0].title = "Turn " + lang + " OFF";
dropdown.options[0].value = "Turn " + lang + " OFF";
}
Transliterate.transliterationControl.toggleTransliteration();
Transliterate.setCookie('Transliterate_ENABLED', Transliterate.transliterationControl.isTransliterationEnabled());

} else {
if (!document.getElementById("checkboxId").checked) {
document.getElementById("checkboxId").click();
} else {
if (!this.is_local) {
var currLang = dropdown.options[dropdown.selectedIndex].text;
if (document.getElementById("checkboxId").checked) {
dropdown.options[0].text = "Turn " + currLang + " OFF";
dropdown.options[0].title = "Turn " + currLang + " OFF";
dropdown.options[0].value = "Turn " + currLang + " OFF";
} else {
dropdown.options[0].text = "Turn " + currLang + " ON";
dropdown.options[0].title = "Turn " + currLang + " ON";
dropdown.options[0].value = "Turn " + currLang + " ON";
}
}
}
}
},

toggleLanguage: function(event) {
var dropdown = document.getElementById('languageDropDown');
if (event.target.innerHTML == dropdown.options[dropdown.selectedIndex].text) {
if (!document.getElementById("checkboxId").checked) {
document.getElementById("checkboxId").click();
}
}
},

_controlDiv: undefined,
createComponents: function(){
// HRef
var controlHTML = "

“+

“+
“+
“”+
“”+
“+

“+

“+

“;
var dDiv = document.createElement(‘div’);
dDiv.innerHTML = controlHTML;
Transliterate._controlDiv = dDiv.firstChild;
//document.importNode(Transliterate._controlDiv, true);
document.body.appendChild(Transliterate._controlDiv);
Transliterate._controlDiv.dimension = {‘width’: Transliterate._controlDiv.offsetWidth, ‘height’: Transliterate._controlDiv.offsetHeight};

if (this.is_local) {
Transliterate._controlDiv.style.display = ‘block’;
} else {
Transliterate._controlDiv.style.display = ‘none’;
}
},
parentWin: undefined,
performAction: function(){
google.load(‘language’, “1″);
google.load(“elements”, “1″, {
packages: ["transliteration"],
});
google.setOnLoadCallback(Transliterate.init);
},
setCookie: function(cookieName, cookieValue, nDays) {
var today = new Date();
var expire = new Date();
if (nDays==null || nDays==0) nDays=30;
expire.setTime(today.getTime() + 3600000*24*nDays);
document.cookie = cookieName+”=”+escape(cookieValue)
+ “;expires=”+expire.toGMTString();
},

getCookie: function(name) {
var theCookies = document.cookie.split(/[; ]+/);
for (var i = 0 ; i < theCookies.length; i++) {
var aName = theCookies[i].substring(0,theCookies[i].indexOf('='));
if (aName == name) {
var c = theCookies[i];
var index = c.lastIndexOf('=');
c = c.substring(index+1, c.length);
return c;
}
}
},

eventAdded: false,
onLoad: function(loadCallback){
if(Transliterate.loaded){
return loadCallback();
}
document.write = function(scr){
var d = document.createElement('div');
d.innerHTML = scr;
document.body.appendChild(d.firstChild);
};
var callBack = function(){
Transliterate.addStyles();
Transliterate.createComponents();
Transliterate.performAction();
loadCallback();
};
Transliterate.addScript('http://www.google.com/jsapi', callBack);
Transliterate.loaded = true;
},
addEvents: function(){
if(Transliterate.eventAdded){
return;
}
Transliterate.eventAdded = true;
document.addEventListener('mousedown', Transliterate.handleEvent, true);
document.addEventListener('focus', Transliterate.handleEvent, true);
/*document.addEventListener('blur', function(ev){
var tar = ev.target;
tar.removeEventListener('click', Transliterate.handleEvent, false);
tar.removeEventListener('focus', Transliterate.handleEvent, false);
}, false);*/
},
autoIdCntr: 1,
isEditableElement: function(el){
var tag = el.tagName;
if(!tag || el.disabled == true || el.readOnly == true){
return false;
}
if(tag.toLowerCase() == 'textarea'){
return true;
}
if(Transliterate.supportTextBoxes && tag.toLowerCase() == 'input' && el.type.toLowerCase() == 'text'){
return true;
}
if(tag.toLowerCase() == 'div' && el.contentEditable.toLowerCase() == 'true'){
return true;
}
if(tag.toLowerCase() == 'iframe'){
var iframedoc = el.contentWindow.document;
if(iframedoc.designMode.toLowerCase() == "on" || iframedoc.body.contentEditable.toLowerCase() == "true") {
return true;
}
}
},
handleEvent: function(event){
try{
// HRef
if (this.is_local) {
var el = document.getElementById('myTextarea');
} else {
var el = event.target;
}
if(Transliterate.isEditableElement(el)){
var lazyLoader = function(){
Transliterate.lazyLoadObjects(el);
};
var initer = function(){
Transliterate.checkAndWaitTillInit(lazyLoader);
};
Transliterate.onLoad(initer);
return;
}
if(!Transliterate.isCntrlsDiv(el)){
Transliterate.showControl(el, true);
}
}catch(e){
}
},
waitCounter: 0,
checkAndWaitTillInit: function(callback){
try{
Transliterate.init();
}catch(e){
if(Transliterate.waitCounter == 15){
return;
}
Transliterate.waitCounter++;
var f = function(){
Transliterate.checkAndWaitTillInit(callback);
};
setTimeout(f, 200);
return;
}
callback();
},
isInTheList: function(el){
for(var i=0; i

( 5 ) Comments

Inspiring Story of 13 yr old Ethical Hacker

Initially it was the forbidden fruit that attracted me,” says 24-year-old Ankit Fadia who wrote his first book on ethical hacking when he was 14, studying in Class IX at Delhi’s DPS R K Puram. Till date he has authored 14 books on ethical hacking and the 15th one on how to hack into Windows Vista and Windows 7 is in the works.

For the record Ankit’s first book The Unofficial Guide to Ethical Hacking has sold more than 7.5 million copies worldwide and is still counting.

In simple terms hacking is all about gaining unauthorised entry into someone’s computer and either stealing confidential data or misusing the data for criminal activities,” explains Ankit from inside MTV’s Mumbai studio as he, in his new avatar, is co-hosting a 10-minute show What The Hack on the channel.

“Ethical hacking,” says he, “is all about hacking for a good purpose”. “It is about helping governments, intelligence agencies and corporates tackle espionage, crack on terrorist activities and prevent cyber criminals from misusing confidential data.”

And in his 11-year career as a consultant Ethical Hacker he has helped intelligence agencies and police across the world — including India’s after 26/11 terror attacks and serial bomb blasts in Ahmedabad in July 2008 — nail cyber crimes.

“I’ve traveled to almost 50 countries across the world because of the nature of my job,” says Ankit. His ambition, though, is to travel to all the 195 countries in the world and he is sure he will do it one day.

Today Ankit travels in India and abroad for more than 20 days in a month. His data card, laptop and blackberry act as his office.

In an interview with Prasanna D Zore, Ankit talked about what attracted him to hacking, how he helps various government agencies crack cyber terrorism and what kind of career opportunities are available to ethical hackers.

What attracted you to ethical hacking and when did you start?

Initially it was the forbidden fruit that attracted me. I was always attracted to the power of being able to do things that most people could not or the power to access things that most people cannot. So I started hacking into a friend’s computer or snooped on their emails for fun.

That’s how my love for hacking began. People always say that the forbidden fruit is always sweet. The more somebody discourages you from doing a thing the more you feel like doing it. That’s how it all began for me. Because of the success of my first book I realised that what was my hobby I could absolutely convert that into a profession as well.

How did you manage to write your first book at 13?

I got a computer at home when I was 10 and I got interested in computer hacking when I was 12. While I was learning the tricks of the trade I realised that in India there are no books or resources that can help one learn hacking. This kind of inspired me to write my first book on hacking when I was 14. The book sold 7.5 million copies and has got translated into 11 different languages. That was A one big milestone that kind of inspired me to turn my hobby into my profession.

Was it very difficult for you to write at such a young age?

It wasn’t very difficult actually. I had started my own Web site where I wrote I was writing tutorials on different computer hacking techniques and the feedback was very positive. My readers asked me to write a book on the subject. Then I decided to convert my tutorials into a book by adding more information.
When I set to write a book I had not told any of my family or friends about it. When I finished it I called my mom and told her I have written a book on computer hacking. She thought I was playing a prank on her. Obviously, she believed me only when I showed her the manuscript.

What was McMillan’s (the publisher fo his first book) first reaction when your mother told them that you wanted to publish a book?

My mom told them that my son has written a book on computer hacking and we want to get it published. The person on the line asked her if I was a professor in a college. My mom told them that I was in school. The editor then asked if I was a teacher in the school. And my mom was like he’s studying in Class IX.

The editors Sumesh Sharma and Joseph Mathai then asked my mom to bring the manuscript and author to their office to talk about the matter. Later Sumesh told me that when he received a call from my mother he thought somebody was playing a prank and he did not believe us. He thought that nobody would show up.
I became the youngest author of a technical book in the history of McMillan’s authors worldwide.

How did it feel after your first book was published?

I felt good but I was only a small kid then. So I didn’t realise the consequences of failure or success.
Till now I’ve written 14 books dealing with different topics on ethical hacking. My next book will be on how to hack into Microsoft Windows Vista and Windows 7. The fact that these two operating systems (OSs) were touted as the most secure is not true at all. You can hack into Windows Vista and Windows 7 pretty easily.

What are the career opportunities that one can look at as an ethical hacker?

Every company, irrespective of what they do, need to have ethical hackers. The maximum demand for ethical hackers comes from financial institutions and banks. They are also high in demand from the IT companies, BPOs, KPOs and LPOs. Telecommunication companies also hire them. Hotels, aviation companies, retailers all of them need ethical hackers to prevent misuse of data as well as online credit card transactions.

Interestingly, most of these industries have been hiring ethical hackers in good numbers to protect their information systems and infrastructure.
As far as remuneration is concerned those who work full time are paid monthly salaries and those who work as consultants are paid on a per-day, per-hour basis. However, consultants make more money than employees as ethical hackers but then it also depends on your skills and value add.

The starting salaries range for ethical hackers in India is between Rs 25,000 to Rs 35,000 per month and outside of India US $ 50,000 to 90,000 per year.

Also, most companies don’t advertise for ethical hackers because the word hacker still carries some stigma. Companies post advertisements for network engineers, system administrators or network specialists.
Lots and lots of my students write to me saying that they have been hired by big companies as such but what they actually do is work as ethical hackers.

What are the courses that you offer that can help people get jobs as cyber security professionals?

We have a one-month certified course called AFCEHC available at all Reliance World outlets that will cost you around Rs 6,999. We also have a one-year postgraduate diploma course on cyber security that is India’s first government accredited/approved certified course with IMT Ghaziabad as my partner. The fee for this distance-learning course is Rs 37,000 per year.
Then there is the two-year master’s degree course in cyber law and cyber security.

You have authored 14 books at 24, with the first one selling more than 7.5 million copies and you also act as a consultant. Can you tell us your net worth? How much do you earn in a year?

It was a lot when I was 13, it’s a lot more at 24.

http://getahead.rediff.com/slide-show/2009/dec/04/slide-show-1-achievers-i-earned-a-lot-at-13-its-a-lot-more-at-24-ankit-fadia-ethical-hacker.htm

( 5 ) Comments

Success story of Poacha who saves Lives

bothaFor over ten years now, Khushroo Poacha has stood by the sole belief that to do good work you don’t need money. Poacha runs indianblooddonors.com (IBD), a site that lets blood donors and patients in need of blood connect with each other almost instantaneously. He also does not accept cash donations.

The site has been live for almost ten years and with over 50,000 donors in its database, IBD is perhaps a classic example of what the Internet is truly capable of. But more importantly, it is a reflection of a single human being’s desire to make a difference to this world.

It all started in the mid-’90s when Khushroo Poacha, an employee with the Indian Railways in Nagpur saw a doctor being beaten up because he couldn’t save a patient’s life. No one in the mob seemed to understand that it was the lack of blood that caused the death.

“A few years later, I witnessed the death of a welder because he couldn’t get blood. The two incidents really shook me up,” Poacha says, “And that was when I expressed to my wife my desire of doing something.”

Poacha, however, had no clue about how he could make a difference until one day, sitting in a cyber cafe with a 56 kbps connection, the idea came to him.

I did not know head or toe of the Internet, let alone about domain names, but I knew this would be the tool that would make a difference,” he says, explaining the dotcom extension to the site.

Over the next few months, Poacha liquidated practically all his savings, purchased a domain name and started up indianblooddonors.com.

“During the time, there were no companies booking or hosting web domains in India. I was paying USD 300 every three months to keep the site live and running. Meanwhile, I had spent almost Rs 40,000 in developing the site and had gone practically bankrupt,” he says.

Poacha says he even went to a local newspaper to place an ad. “I needed visibility and that was the only way I thought I could reach out to the people. The day the ad appeared, I was expecting a flood of registrations,” he recollects. “No one registered.”

The silver lining to the dark cloud came when someone from the outskirts of his hometown Nagpur contacted him, expressing interest. “It was a saving grace,” Poacha says.

Meanwhile, the dotcom bubble had burst and Poacha was being told what a fool he had been. And then there were household expenses to be taken care of too.

“There were many occasions when unpaid phone bills would be lying in the house and there would be no money to pay them off,” Poacha recollects, adding that “things always have a way of sorting themselves out. And mysteriously during such times, a cheque would make its way into the mailbox.”

Poacha admits that his wife was quite apprehensive about his endeavour. “But she believed in me,” he says, “And that has made all the difference.”

Visibility, however, was still an issue. No publication was willing to write about him. No major hospital or blood bank was interested in taking his calls.

And then the 2001 Gujarat Earthquake happened. As visuals of the devastation flashed before his eyes on television, Poacha realised yet again he had to do something.

Only this time he knew just what.

“I called up (television channel) Zee News and requested them to flash the site’s name on the ticker and they agreed.”

Five minutes later, the ticker was live. Ten minutes later, the site crashed.

“I spoke to the people who were hosting the site (by now website hosting had started off in India) and explained to them the situation. They immediately put me on a fresh server and over the next three days or so I received some 3,500 odd registrations,” Poacha recollects.

Realising the difference he had made, the 42-year-old started working on getting visibility again.

Over the next few months, Poacha had contacted every major magazine and sure enough, a few responded. “Outlook (magazine) wrote about me, then (British newspaper) The Guardian followed suit and then came the BBC,” he says.

Along the way, IBD had also gone mobile. All you had to do was type out a message and send it to a short code and you’d have a list of blood donors in your inbox.

As luck would have it, the service became far too popular for Poacha’s pocket. “By then I had stopped taking cash donations and had to discontinue it,” he says.

Interestingly, IBD is not yet registered as an NGO. “We function as individuals. We don’t take donations and only accept bumper stickers (of IBD) and postage stamps to send out those stickers and create awareness,” he says, “I was asked to deliver a lecture at IIM during a social entrepreneurship seminar and was asked what my sustenance model was. I replied I didn’t have one. And I have been doing this for the last ten years.”

Today, the database of IBD is growing at the rate of 10-15 users every day and the requests have grown from 25 to 40 per day.

Poacha says he eats, drinks and breathes IBD. “The zeal I had ten years ago has not diminished and the site continuously sees innovation.” The latest, Poacha tells us, is the option of being an exclusive donor to one patient.

“During my journey, I realised there were some patients who required blood every month. So if you want, we can put you onto them so you can continue making a sustained difference to one person’s life.”

IBD is currently on an auto pilot mode and Poacha continues to keep his day job. He says, “Initially I would take the calls and personally connect the donor with the patient’s relative. But I know only three languages and I’d get calls from all over India,” he laughs.

Poacha recounts an incident that never left him: “A man from Chandigarh called me and told me he was desperately seeking A-ive blood for his 2-year-old. About five minutes after the call, he got the (difficult to find) blood group he needed. Soon after the surgery he called me up crying, thanking me for saving his child’s life. For me, it was just another day at work. But his whole world was at stake that day. I can never forget that call.”

Last year Poacha was invited to the Asian Social Entrepreneurs Summit 2008 in South Korea where venture capitalists argued that it wasn’t possible to sustain an endeavour without money. He says, “I pointed out that Mother Teresa had no revenue model when she started the Missionaries of Charity. If you want to do good work, you simply do it.”

For someone who has sustained his enterprise for a decade with just a few bumper stickers and postage stamps, Khushroo Poacha knows best.

 

http://getahead.rediff.com/report/2009/oct/20/this-man-saves-lives-one-click-at-a-time.htm

( 1 ) Comment

Dr.Tulsi aged 21 becomes India’s youngest Doctorate holder

It’s not very often that you attach the title ‘Dr’ to the name of a 21-year-old youngster. Meet Dr Tathagat Avatar Tulsi, who is on top of the world today after joining an exclusive club of scientists with a doctorate at the age of 21.

Dr Tulsi is the youngest person in India to hold a doctorate and with this feat he has joined an eminent club of greats like Dr John Forbes Nash, an American mathematician who competed his PhD from Princeton University, US at the age of 21. His faculty at the Indian Institute of Science is truly inspired by his research on software for next generation and quantum computers. His research is not only unique because of his age, but also because his thesis was unusually short — it was completed within 33 pages.

Dubbed a whizkid, and a genius, Dr Tulsi says it was a dream when he picked up his certificate at the Department of Physics at the prestigious Indian Institute of Science. But he also says that the path to success is not an easy one. In this interview with rediff.com‘s Vikash Nanjappa, the prodigy speaks about his passion, his success and what he has planned out for the future.

First of all, how does it feel to be addressed as ‘Dr Tulsi’ at the age of 21?

Top of the world, I must say. To be the youngest person in India to hold a doctorate at 21 is indeed a great feeling, one that words cannot describe.

How tough has it been for you to achieve all this?

It hasn’t been easy at all; the road has been very hard indeed. I had a passion to achieve and I realised that there were more hurdles than I had counted on. I had a very supportive family, but in due course I started to get a lot of negative publicity. This did not help my cause one bit. I strived to complete my research in three years, but it took six years thanks to all the negative publicity. However, that is in the past now and I have achieved what I wanted.

Tell us something about yourself and your family.

I always had the passion to study and that is exactly what I did. I finished my high school at the age of nine and my BSc at the age of 10. My MSc was completed at the age of 12 and due to this my name appeared in the Guinness Book of World Records.

My father T N Prasad is an advocate and my mother Chandhal Devi is a teacher. I have two brothers. One is interested in joining the administrative services and the other wants to become a lawyer.
31tulsi
You certainly have a unique record. However I must ask, did you feel different when you were in the IISC? I am sure all your fellow classmates were a lot older than you?

Yes, of course I felt different. I was the youngest and hence I always knew that I was different when compared to the rest. The IISC campus was not accustomed to such young people and this at times created more problems for me. I really don’t wish to go into the problems as of now, since it is a thing of the past. However, I must add here that the negative publicity did affect me a great deal, especially psychologically.

What about friends your own age? Did you have any and if so, what was your relationship with them like?

Yes of course, I did have friends. However, I am not in touch with them. I would not say that it was normal, the relationship with my friends. I chose to study a lot and achieve my goals as I was always fascinated by studies. In fact, very recently, when I saw that my friends were studying for their examinations, I was sad because I wanted to study along with them too.

Don’t you miss having had a normal childhood?

Not at all. I really was not the conventional child who used to play like the others. I loved to study and I did that all through my childhood. So there isn’t really anything that I have missed out on.

You have stated in the past that it was not easy to get admission to various institutions due to your young age. How did you manage that?

Yes, that was tough — my age was always a deterrent. I had to rely on special permission, although I must say that none of the educational institutions granted me this. We had to battle it out in the courts to obtain special permission. Fortunately we managed to win the case and I got special permission.

How does it feel to be called a whiz kid? And when did your parents realise that you were one?

It feels good. But I must add that there has been a lot of hard work that has gone into this. I would like to narrate an incident from when I was three years old. My intention was to save on the battery of our calculator and hence I decided to work out all my calculations without one. This was when my parents realised that there was something different about me.

Although it’s fairly obvious, could you tell us how your parents reacted to your achievement?

Yes, they were thrilled and I am happy that I have made them so proud. When I ended up taking six years to complete my doctorate instead of the three years that I had in mind, they were worried. But today they are relaxed and happy that I did not let down those who stuck by my side through both the good and bad times.

I am sure that the journey does not end here for you. Tell us about your future plans.

I have a fellowship offer from the Institute of Quantum Computing, University of Waterloo, Canada. I have a lot of plans though. I would like to set up a computer laboratory to develop software for new generation computers. I am also looking for a professorship from the Indian Institute of Technology. I want to work on my ideas after that.

 http://getahead.rediff.com/report/2009/aug/31/meet-dr-tathaghar-avtar-tulsi-he-is-21.htm

( 2 ) Comments