Lives she changed.

Sindhutai Sapkal — Part 1

The Woman Who Became Mother to Thousands

Sindhutai Sapkal (1948–2022) was born into poverty in Maharashtra.

Her childhood was difficult. She had little formal education and was married when she was still very young.

Life became unimaginably harsh.

Yet the extraordinary part of her story is not the suffering she endured.

It is what she chose to do with it.

From abandoned woman to mother

After a series of terrible personal circumstances, Sindhutai found herself virtually alone, with her infant daughter.

She had no wealth.

No institution.

No influential family behind her.

She had almost nothing.

But during those desperate years, she encountered children who were even more vulnerable—children who had been abandoned and had nowhere to go.

She began taking them in.

One child became several.

Several became dozens.

Eventually, thousands of children came to regard her as their mother.

She became known across India as "Mai"—Mother.

She understood their loneliness

Perhaps because she had herself experienced abandonment and rejection, Sindhutai understood these children in a way that few others could.

She did not merely provide them with food.

She gave them a family.

She raised children regardless of caste, background or circumstance.

She encouraged them to study and become independent.

And something remarkable happened.

Many of the children she raised eventually became successful professionals themselves.

Some returned to support the very institutions that had raised them.

The children who had once needed a mother eventually became part of the family that carried her work forward.

The extraordinary irony

Sindhutai began life with very little.

She never became a philanthropist because she possessed great wealth.

She became one because she possessed an extraordinary capacity to care.

Her currency was compassion.

Her institution was motherhood.

Her legacy was the thousands of lives she touched.

Sindhutai Sapkal — Part 2

Mai: The Mother Who Had No Child of Her Own to Spare

Sindhutai Sapkal's life took an extraordinary turn when, after experiencing terrible hardship herself, she began encountering children who had been abandoned by their families.

She knew what it meant to have nowhere to turn.

And she could not walk away.

She began taking these children under her care.

From one child to many

At first, she had almost no resources.

She depended on whatever help she could find and, at times, even begged for food so that the children in her care could eat.

But she had made a decision:

No child who came to her would be turned away merely because she had nothing.

Gradually, the number of children increased.

She became known affectionately as Mai — Mother.

Her homes became places where children could receive food, shelter, education and, most importantly, affection.

She wanted them to become independent

Sindhutai did not want to create a permanent dependence on charity.

She encouraged the children to study and build careers.

Her dream was that they would eventually stand on their own feet.

And many did.

Some became doctors, lawyers, engineers and teachers. Others entered different professions and, in turn, supported the work that had once supported them.

The children were not merely beneficiaries.

They became part of the mission.

A remarkable family

Over the years, Sindhutai became a mother to thousands of children.

But the word mother meant something much deeper to her than simply providing food and shelter.

She wanted each child to feel:

"I belong somewhere."

For a child who has experienced abandonment, that feeling can be life-changing.

Her greatest achievement

Sindhutai never possessed the financial resources of a large philanthropic foundation.

Her achievement was built almost entirely through human relationships.

She created a family where society had left a void.

And perhaps that is why her story touches us so deeply.

She had suffered from abandonment.

Yet she refused to allow abandonment to become another child's destiny.

From suffering to service

This is the remarkable transformation at the heart of her life:

She could have allowed her suffering to make her bitter.

Instead, she allowed it to make her compassionate.

That may be one of the greatest forms of strength a human being can possess.

And eventually, her work became known far beyond Maharashtra. She received numerous honours, including the Padma Shri in 2021, in recognition of her social work.

But for Sindhutai, the greatest reward was never an award.

It was seeing a child she had once sheltered grow into an independent adult.

Sindhutai Sapkal — Part 3

Her Greatest Wealth Was the Children She Raised

Sindhutai Sapkal's journey began with almost nothing.

Yet by the end of her life, she had created something that money could never buy:

a family of thousands.

She became known as Mai, and the children she cared for became her greatest wealth.

The children became her legacy

Sindhutai did not want the children she raised to remain dependent on her.

She wanted them to study, find work and build independent lives.

Many did.

Some became professionals. Others established their own families. Many continued to remain connected to the institutions and children who came after them.

Something beautiful had happened:

The children who had once needed help began helping others.

That is perhaps the strongest measure of successful social service.

From victim to giver

Sindhutai's own life had contained poverty, abandonment and humiliation.

Her personal tragedy became the source of her compassion.

Her loneliness became a reason to create a family for others.

Her poverty never stopped her from giving.

Recognition came later

Her work eventually received national recognition.

Among the many honours she received was the Padma Shri in 2021.

But awards were not the measure of her life.

The real measure was visible in the people who called her Mai.

Thousands of children had found food, education, shelter and affection because one woman had refused to turn away.

And she died as Mai—the mother of thousands.

Her greatest wealth was not what she possessed.

It was the lives she had changed.

The Teacher Who Opened the Door to Opportunity

 Yes. Both are excellent choices, and they give us two very different forms of service:

Anand Kumar — education as a pathway out of poverty.

Sindhutai Sapkal — a woman who suffered extreme hardship herself and turned it into compassion for abandoned children.

I would suggest three parts each, as we did with Dr. Devi Shetty. We can begin with Anand Kumar and then take up Sindhutai.

Anand Kumar — Part 1

The Teacher Who Opened the Door to Opportunity

Anand Kumar's story begins not with wealth, privilege or a large institution.

It begins with a young man who understood what poverty can do to talent.

Born in Patna, Bihar, Anand Kumar showed an extraordinary aptitude for mathematics from an early age.

He was admitted to Cambridge University, but his family could not afford the costs of sending him abroad. His father, a postal department employee, died before Anand could pursue that opportunity.

The door seemed to have closed.

But Anand Kumar did not give up his love for mathematics.

He began teaching students and gradually discovered something that would shape his life:

India had thousands of brilliant children who were simply too poor to access the best educational opportunities.

The beginning of Super 30

In 2002, he started what became known as Super 30.

Each year, he selected around thirty exceptionally talented students from economically disadvantaged backgrounds and prepared them for the highly competitive entrance examination for the Indian Institutes of Technology.

The students received intensive coaching, food and accommodation.

For many of them, it was an opportunity that their families could never have purchased.

The remarkable part

Anand Kumar was not simply teaching mathematics.

He was trying to break a vicious circle:

poverty → poor access to education → limited opportunity → continued poverty.

His answer was:

talent + education + opportunity = a chance to change one's life.

Over the years, many Super 30 students gained admission to prestigious institutions, and their subsequent careers became a powerful demonstration of what can happen when ability is given an opportunity.

His philanthropy was education

Anand Kumar did not possess the enormous resources of a major charitable foundation.

His greatest resource was his knowledge.

He used it.

And that may be one of the most beautiful forms of giving:

Give someone knowledge, and you may change not only that person's life, but the lives of an entire family for generations.

That is why Anand Kumar belongs in our series.

Part 2 — Thirty Students, One Chance: Inside the Extraordinary World of Super 30.

And then: Sindhutai Sapkal

Her story is even more extraordinary.

She was born into poverty, married very young, abandoned under horrific circumstances and left with an infant child.

Yet the woman who had almost nothing eventually became known as the “Mother of Orphans.”

She adopted abandoned children, raised them as her own and eventually became a mother to thousands.

Her story deserves to be told with sensitivity, because it is not simply a story of philanthropy.

It is a story of turning personal suffering into compassion for others.

Anand Kumar — Part 2

Thirty Students, One Chance

Anand Kumar had seen something that troubled him deeply.

India was full of talented young people, but talent alone was not enough.

The children of wealthy families could afford expensive coaching for competitive examinations. Poorer children often could not.

So he decided to do something about it.

The Super 30 experiment

In 2002, Anand Kumar began selecting 30 exceptionally talented students from economically disadvantaged families.

He offered them intensive preparation for the entrance examination to the Indian Institutes of Technology.

But the programme went beyond classroom teaching.

The students were provided with:

intensive academic coaching,

accommodation,

food,

study materials,

and, most importantly, a belief that they could succeed.

For many students, this was their first real opportunity to compete on equal terms with children from far more privileged backgrounds.

The teacher became a mentor

Anand Kumar understood that poor students often face a second disadvantage.

They may have ability, but lack confidence.

They may know the mathematics, but not know how to approach a difficult examination.

They may have ambition, but no one around them who has travelled that road before.

So he became more than a mathematics teacher.

He became a mentor.

The students lived and studied together, creating an atmosphere in which academic achievement became a shared goal.

The results attracted attention

Super 30 began producing remarkable results, with many students gaining admission to the IITs and other leading institutions.

The story attracted national and international attention.

But the most important result was not a newspaper headline or a statistic.

It was what happened when a student returned home and told his family:

"I have made it."

For a poor family, the success of one child could transform the prospects of everyone.

Education could mean a better career, greater financial security and, perhaps most importantly, the breaking of a cycle of poverty.

What did Anand Kumar actually give?

He did not give his students money.

He gave them something potentially more valuable:

opportunity.

His contribution reminds us that philanthropy does not always require enormous wealth.

A person can give:

knowledge, time, guidance and faith in another person's potential.

And sometimes that is enough to change a life.

The larger lesson

We often speak about helping the poor.

Anand Kumar's example suggests a better question:

What if, instead of merely helping a poor child survive, we help that child discover what he or she is capable of achieving?

That is the power of education.

And that is why the story of Super 30 became much bigger than one classroom in Patna.

Thirty students were given a chance.

Many went on to create entirely different futures for themselves and their families.

And Anand Kumar's journey raises an important question:

Can education become one of the most powerful forms of philanthropy?

For Anand Kumar, the answer was clear.

Yes.

Part 3 — The Real Gift: What Anand Kumar's Story Teaches Us About Education, Opportunity and Giving Back.

Anand Kumar — Part 3

The Real Gift: Giving Someone a Chance

Anand Kumar's story is ultimately not about an examination.

It is about opportunity.

A child may possess extraordinary ability, but ability can remain invisible when poverty prevents access to good education.

Anand Kumar tried to change that equation.

Knowledge as philanthropy

His greatest gift was not money.

It was knowledge.

He took students who could not afford expensive coaching and gave them intensive preparation, guidance and the confidence to compete.

The idea was remarkably simple:

Find talent.

Give it opportunity.

Let ability take over.

That principle has a significance far beyond the IIT entrance examination.

One student can change a family

When a young person from a poor family obtains a good education and builds a successful career, the impact rarely stops with that individual.

Parents gain security.

Brothers and sisters gain encouragement.

The next generation grows up with different possibilities.

A cycle of disadvantage can begin to break.

That is why education is such a powerful form of social service.

A donation may solve today's problem.

Education can change tomorrow.

His own experience mattered

Anand Kumar himself had experienced the pain of seeing an educational opportunity disappear because his family could not afford it.

Perhaps that is why he understood something important:

Poverty should never be mistaken for lack of ability.

The child who cannot afford coaching may still be the child capable of solving the hardest problem in the room.

Someone simply has to open the door.

The lesson for the next generation

There is a beautiful lesson here for young Indians.

If you are fortunate enough to receive a good education, do not think of it only as a personal advantage.

Use what you learn.

Teach someone.

Mentor someone.

Give another child the confidence that someone once gave you.

Because knowledge has a unique quality:

When you share it, you do not lose it.

You multiply it.

Anand Kumar's legacy

The story of Super 30 reminds us that philanthropy need not always begin with great wealth.

Sometimes it begins with one person saying:

"I know something that can help you. Let me teach you."

That may sound small.

But for the right person, at the right moment, it can change an entire life.

And perhaps that is the finest tribute to a teacher:

Not the number of lessons he taught, but the number of lives he helped open to possibility.

The message

Give a person food, and you help for a day.

Give a person an opportunity to learn, and you may change a generation.

That is the gift Anand Kumar chose to give.

And that is why his story belongs among Indians Who Gave Back.

A life of quiet service

 

Sudha Murty — A Life of Quiet Service

Part 1 — The Girl Who Wanted to Make a Difference

Some people become famous because of what they possess.

Others become remembered because of what they give.

Sudha Murty belongs to the second category.

Born in 1950 in Shiggaon, Karnataka, Sudha grew up in a family that valued education, simplicity and compassion. From an early age, she developed an unusual determination to study and to stand on her own feet.

When she wanted to study engineering, she entered what was then overwhelmingly a male profession.

At the Indian Institute of Science, she became the first woman to receive a master's degree in engineering in her department.

Her early career took her into the world of technology. She worked with TELCO (now Tata Motors), later joined Walchand Group and eventually became closely associated with the emerging technology industry through her marriage to Narayana Murthy.

But professional success did not become the centre of her life.

She kept returning to a simple question:

"What can I do for someone who has less than I have?"

That question gradually became a way of life.

Through the Infosys Foundation, she supported initiatives in education, healthcare, rural development, sanitation, libraries, orphanages and assistance for people affected by natural disasters.

But perhaps what makes her story especially appealing is her manner of service.

She has often spoken about meeting ordinary people—not as beneficiaries of charity, but as individuals whose dignity deserved respect.

She also discovered another powerful way of reaching people:

books.

Her stories for children and adults brought values such as kindness, honesty, courage and generosity into ordinary homes.

For Sudha Murty, philanthropy was never simply about writing a cheque.

It was about showing up, listening and doing something useful.

And that makes her story worth telling.

Because sometimes the greatest contribution one can make to society is not to ask,

"How much can I give?"

but:

"How many lives can I make a little better?"

Sudha Murty — A Life of Quiet Service

Part 2 — From Technology to Transforming Lives

Sudha Murty's philanthropy became remarkable not because it was spectacular, but because it was practical.

Through the Infosys Foundation, she worked across areas where a small intervention could change an entire life.

Education

She believed that education was perhaps the most powerful form of charity.

The Foundation supported schools, libraries, scholarships and educational facilities, particularly for children who had limited opportunities.

A library could introduce a child to an entirely different world.

A school could change the future of an entire village.

Healthcare

Her work also extended to hospitals and healthcare facilities, especially where resources were scarce.

The philosophy was simple:

Charity should reach people who genuinely need it.

Rural India

She travelled extensively and saw conditions that many urban Indians rarely encountered.

Instead of concentrating only on large institutions, she supported projects involving sanitation, drinking water, housing and basic infrastructure.

These may sound like modest things.

But for a poor family, a toilet, a safe house or access to clean water can mean an enormous improvement in dignity and health.

Disaster relief

Natural disasters brought another dimension to her work.

Floods, earthquakes and other calamities required immediate help—not merely promises.

Relief efforts provided necessities such as food, clothing, shelter and rehabilitation assistance.

But perhaps the most important lesson from her approach is this:

Philanthropy is not only about giving money. It is about understanding what people actually need.

That distinction matters.

A wealthy person can donate millions without ever knowing whether the money solved the problem.

Sudha Murty's work repeatedly tried to begin with the problem itself.

And there was another remarkable side to her life.

While travelling for charitable work, she collected stories.

Stories of ordinary people.

Stories of courage.

Stories of kindness.

Stories of poverty and hope.

Those experiences eventually became books read by millions.

So her contribution took two forms:

She helped people directly—and she inspired people through stories.

Perhaps that is why her influence extends far beyond the projects she supported.

She made philanthropy feel human, accessible and personal.

A thought for the next generation

You do not have to be extraordinarily wealthy to serve society.

You need only to notice a need—and respond.

One child educated.

One family helped.

One book given.

One person treated with dignity.

Sometimes that is how a better society is built.

Sudha Murty — A Life of Quiet Service

Part 3 — A Legacy Beyond Philanthropy

There is something distinctive about Sudha Murty's journey.

She entered the world of technology when very few women were doing so. She became an engineer, teacher, author and philanthropist. Yet none of these identities became as important as the simple idea of service.

Through the Infosys Foundation, she helped support thousands of initiatives in education, healthcare, rural development, sanitation and disaster relief.

But her greatest legacy may be something less measurable.

She made giving personal.

She did not present philanthropy as something reserved for the wealthy.

Her books and public interactions repeatedly conveyed the importance of kindness, humility, gratitude and responsibility.

A child reading one of her stories might learn to help another child. My grand daughter reads her books and implements it. It has made her so caring and attentive to be in the present

A young person might discover the value of education.

An adult might be reminded that success carries a responsibility towards society.

That is philanthropy of another kind—the philanthropy of ideas and values.

Her greatest lesson

Sudha Murty's life demonstrates that a meaningful life need not be built around accumulation.

It can be built around contribution.

Money can build a school.

Money can support a hospital.

Money can provide relief after a disaster.

But compassion determines where the money should go.

And wisdom determines how it should be used.

That is perhaps why her story resonates with so many people.

She did not merely ask:

"What can I afford to give?"

She asked:

"What is needed?"

And then tried to respond.

Her contribution to Indian society has been recognised with several honours, including the Padma Bhushan.

Yet the most fitting measure of her legacy may not be an award or an institution.

It is the countless people who have been helped, the children who have found opportunity, and the readers who have carried her message of kindness into their own lives.

The message for the next generation

We often tell young people:

Become successful.

Perhaps we should add one more sentence:

"And when you succeed, make someone else's life better."

That is the philosophy that runs quietly through Sudha Murty's life.

Success gives us a position.

Service gives that position a purpose.

And perhaps that is the finest definition of philanthropy.

Not how much we possess—

but how much good remains after we have passed through this world.

The economics of saving a life.

 

Dr. Devi Shetty — Part 1

The Doctor Who Asked: Why Should Good Healthcare Be Expensive?

Dr. Devi Prasad Shetty was born in Karnataka in 1953, one of nine children.

He became a cardiac surgeon at a time when heart surgery was an extraordinarily expensive proposition in India.

But his ambition was not simply to become a successful surgeon.

He began asking a much bigger question:

Could world-class medical treatment be made affordable to ordinary Indians?

A life-changing encounter

An important influence came early in his career when he worked in Kolkata and had the opportunity to treat Mother Teresa.

He became her personal physician after she suffered a heart attack.

Her example of serving the poor left a deep impression on him.

It reinforced an idea that would eventually shape his career:

Healthcare should serve the person who needs it—not merely the person who can afford it.

The problem he wanted to solve

India had highly skilled doctors and excellent medical knowledge.

But sophisticated treatment remained beyond the reach of millions.

Heart surgery, in particular, could cost more than an ordinary family could possibly afford.

Dr. Shetty began thinking about healthcare almost as an engineer might think about a system.

Could costs be reduced through:

economies of scale,

efficient hospital management,

standardised procedures,

careful use of technology,

high surgical volumes,

and innovative financing?

His answer was yes.

Narayana Hrudayalaya

In 2001, he founded Narayana Hrudayalaya in Bengaluru.

The institution began with a strong focus on cardiac care and was built around an ambitious principle:

high-quality treatment should not automatically mean high-cost treatment.

The idea was revolutionary.

Instead of treating healthcare as an exclusive service for those who could pay, Dr. Shetty wanted to create a model in which large numbers of patients could receive sophisticated care at lower cost.

And he did not stop with heart surgery.

The organisation eventually expanded into a much broader healthcare network, now known as Narayana Health.

The philanthropist who built a system

This is what makes Dr. Shetty particularly interesting for our series.

His philanthropy is not primarily about giving away his personal wealth.

It is about building a system that can keep serving people long after one doctor has finished his work.

That is a different form of social service.

Baba Amte asked:

"How can I restore dignity to those society has rejected?"

Dr. Shetty asked:

"How can I make advanced healthcare accessible to those who cannot afford it?"

Both began with the same fundamental belief:

Human life should not be valued according to a person's wealth.

And Dr. Shetty's experiment was only beginning.

Dr. Devi Shetty — Part 2

The Hospital That Tried to Make Heart Surgery Affordable

When Dr. Devi Shetty established Narayana Hrudayalaya in Bengaluru in 2001, he was attempting something that many considered extremely difficult:

Make sophisticated cardiac care affordable to ordinary Indians without compromising quality.

His answer was not simply to charge less.

He tried to redesign the entire system.

Think of a hospital differently

A heart operation requires surgeons, anaesthetists, nurses, operating theatres, intensive-care beds, equipment and medicines.

Traditionally, the cost of maintaining all this made cardiac surgery expensive.

Dr. Shetty's approach was:

If more patients could be treated efficiently, the fixed costs could be spread across a much larger number of operations.

It was an application of scale to healthcare.

The hospital therefore developed a high-volume model, particularly for cardiac surgery.

The surgeon was not the only answer

Dr. Shetty also placed considerable emphasis on teamwork and standardisation.

Highly trained specialists could concentrate on the most complex aspects of treatment while other members of the medical team handled appropriate parts of the process.

The objective was not to make medicine impersonal.

It was to make the system efficient enough to serve many more people.

And this was important because India had—and still has—a huge population needing medical care.

Healthcare for the ordinary family

The real test of the idea was not whether a wealthy patient could receive excellent treatment.

India already had hospitals capable of doing that.

The question was:

Could a schoolteacher, farmer, clerk or small businessman afford heart surgery?

Dr. Shetty wanted the answer to be yes.

The institution also developed financing and insurance-related approaches intended to make treatment accessible to lower-income patients.

One particularly important idea was micro health insurance, which sought to extend health coverage to people who were often outside conventional insurance systems.

A different kind of philanthropy

This is why Dr. Shetty deserves a place beside Baba Amte in our series.

Baba Amte created a community for people society had rejected.

Dr. Shetty attempted to create a healthcare model that could include people society's economics had excluded.

One worked primarily through personal service.

The other worked through innovation, scale and institution-building.

Both recognised the same truth:

A society is judged by how it treats those who have the least.

But could lower cost really coexist with quality?

That was the great challenge.

Dr. Shetty's experiment attracted international attention precisely because it challenged the assumption that expensive healthcare must necessarily be better healthcare.

The model became an important subject of discussion in global healthcare circles.

And this brings us to the most fascinating part of his story.

How did he attempt to reduce the cost of something as expensive as heart surgery—and what happened when the model was taken to a much larger scale?

Part 3 — The Economics of Saving a Life: How Dr. Shetty Tried to Rebuild the Healthcare Model.

The Economics of Saving a Life

Dr. Devi Shetty's great contribution was not simply performing thousands of heart operations.

It was asking a question that few doctors had asked so directly:

Can healthcare be made affordable without making it inferior?

His answer was to rethink the economics of medicine.

Do more, not less

A hospital has many costs that remain whether it treats one patient or several hundred.

Dr. Shetty believed that by treating a much larger number of patients, using highly specialised teams and streamlining hospital processes, the cost of each treatment could be brought down.

It was the principle of scale—applied to healthcare.

The result was a model that attracted worldwide attention.

Technology as an equaliser

Dr. Shetty also believed that technology could help overcome India's enormous geographical and economic inequalities.

Telemedicine and digital healthcare could connect specialists with patients far away from major cities.

The idea was simple:

A person's location should not determine the quality of medical advice available to them.

Beyond the hospital

Narayana Health grew from a cardiac hospital into a large healthcare network providing a wide range of medical services.

The organisation also developed programmes aimed at making treatment accessible to economically weaker patients.

This is where Dr. Shetty's story becomes especially relevant to our theme of philanthropy.

He did not see philanthropy merely as giving away money.

He tried to create an institution whose business model itself could serve a social purpose.

A different definition of charity

Baba Amte gave people dignity by building a community around them.

Dr. Devi Shetty tried to give ordinary families something equally precious:

a chance to receive life-saving medical treatment without being financially destroyed by it.

Neither approach was simply about charity.

Both were about changing the circumstances that made charity necessary.

The lesson

Dr. Shetty's life offers an important lesson for the next generation.

You do not always have to choose between success and service.

Sometimes the most powerful form of service is to use one's professional knowledge, imagination and enterprise to solve a problem affecting millions.

A doctor can save one life.

But a doctor who builds a better system can potentially change the lives of millions.

That is the remarkable legacy of Dr. Devi Shetty.

One man's compassion became a legacy.

Baba Amte — Part 1

The Man Who Chose the Forgotten

Murlidhar Devidas Amte (1914–2008), affectionately known as Baba Amte, was born into a prosperous family in Maharashtra. He studied law and could have lived a comfortable professional life.

But something happened that changed the direction of his life completely.

One day, he encountered a man suffering from advanced leprosy, lying helpless by the roadside.

His first reaction was fear.

And that frightened him—not the disease itself, but his own fear of another human being.

He later deliberately confronted that fear. He learned about leprosy, worked with patients and discovered something society had forgotten:

A person suffering from disease had not ceased to be a person.

That became the foundation of his life's work.

From charity to dignity

Baba Amte did not want to create an institution where people merely received charity.

He wanted them to work, create and live with dignity.

In 1949, he founded Anandwan (“Forest of Joy”) near Warora in Maharashtra.

What began as a small community for people affected by leprosy gradually became something extraordinary—a self-sufficient settlement with agriculture, workshops, schools, healthcare and rehabilitation.

People who had been rejected by society were given something far more valuable than money:

a place where they belonged.

They farmed.

They made handicrafts.

They learned skills.

They worked.

They educated their children.

And they became contributors rather than objects of pity.

That was Baba Amte's revolutionary idea.

His greatest contribution

Perhaps his greatest lesson was this:

Philanthropy should not merely give people something.

It should help restore their ability to stand on their own feet.

Baba Amte himself described his philosophy through action rather than wealth.

He did not simply donate money to the poor.

He gave his life to them.

And that is why his story deserves to be remembered.

 extraordinary community Baba Amte built 

Out of what society had discarded.

 Baba Amte — Part 2

Anandwan: Where the Rejected Found a Home

In Part 1, we saw how a young lawyer overcame his fear of leprosy and decided to dedicate his life to people whom society had pushed aside.

But Baba Amte's real achievement began when he created Anandwan.

A forest became a community

In 1949, Baba Amte and his family began their work in a barren area near Warora in Maharashtra.

There were few facilities and little money.

But Baba Amte had a different vision.

He did not want to establish an institution where patients would simply be looked after.

He wanted to create a community.

People affected by leprosy would work, earn, learn and live together with dignity.

Slowly, the wilderness began to change.

Fields appeared.

Workshops were established.

Homes and schools came up.

Healthcare facilities developed.

What had once been a neglected piece of land became Anandwan—the Forest of Joy.

Not charity—but opportunity

This was perhaps the most important difference in Baba Amte's approach.

A conventional charitable institution might say:

"We will take care of you."

Baba Amte's message was:

"Come. Let us build something together."

Those affected by leprosy became farmers, craftsmen, teachers, workers and entrepreneurs.

They produced agricultural goods and handicrafts. They learned skills and supported the community.

Their disability did not become their identity.

Their ability did.

Anandwan's deeper lesson

Baba Amte understood something profound:

The greatest poverty is not always lack of money.

Sometimes it is the loss of dignity and belonging.

Anandwan attempted to restore both.

It gave people who had been feared and rejected something that money alone could never provide—

a home, meaningful work and respect.

And perhaps that is why Anandwan became much more than a leprosy rehabilitation centre.

It became an experiment in human dignity.

A family joined the mission

Baba Amte's wife, Sadhanatai, stood beside him throughout this journey. Their sons, Dr. Vikas Amte and Dr. Prakash Amte, also eventually devoted themselves to social service.

Thus Anandwan became not merely one man's project.

It became a family's lifelong commitment to service.

And the story was about to become even larger.

Baba Amte would eventually take his concern beyond leprosy—to tribal communities, the environment, national integration and the rights of people living on the margins.

The man who had once been afraid to touch a leprosy patient had gradually built a community where thousands of people could live without fear.

Part 3: The Children of the Forest — Baba Amte's extraordinary work among India's tribal communities and the story of Hemalkasa.

Baba Amte — Part 3

Hemalkasa: Beyond the Boundaries of Anandwan

Anandwan had shown what could happen when rejected people were given dignity instead of pity.

But the Amte family's service did not stop there.

In the forests of eastern Maharashtra lived the Madia Gond tribal community, largely isolated from modern healthcare and education.

In 1973, Baba Amte's son, Dr. Prakash Amte, and his wife Dr. Mandakini Amte, went to Hemalkasa to begin a new experiment in service.

They were young doctors entering an extremely difficult environment.

There were no proper roads.

Medical facilities were almost nonexistent.

Electricity and communication were limited.

The forest itself was their world.

The doctor who came to stay

Dr. Prakash did something crucial.

He did not merely visit the tribal villages as a doctor.

He lived among the people.

The villagers initially viewed the newcomers with understandable suspicion. Gradually, however, the doctor who treated their illnesses, delivered their babies and cared for their children became someone they trusted.

A small medical initiative slowly developed into the Lok Biradari Prakalp—the People's Brotherhood Project.

Its philosophy was simple:

Serve people where they are, rather than expecting them to come to you.

A hospital in the forest

The project eventually developed a hospital that provided medical treatment to people who had previously had almost no access to modern healthcare.

But medicine was only one part of the mission.

A school was established.

Children received education.

The community was introduced to better agricultural and livelihood practices.

The aim was not to uproot the tribal way of life, but to give people choices and opportunities without taking away their dignity.

And then came the animals

There was another extraordinary dimension to Hemalkasa.

Dr. Prakash Amte began rescuing injured and orphaned wild animals brought to him by the tribal people.

The resulting Animal Ark became famous.

The sight of a doctor working in a remote forest surrounded by rescued animals became almost symbolic of the Amte family's philosophy:

Compassion should have no boundaries.

Two generations, one idea

Baba Amte had begun with people whom society had rejected because of disease.

At Hemalkasa, his son continued the same principle among people separated from mainstream society by geography, poverty and neglect.

The methods were different.

The principle was the same:

Do not merely feel sorry for people.

Stand beside them.

That is what makes the Amte story so powerful.

It was not philanthropy from a distance.

It was service from within the lives of the people they chose to serve.

And there was still another chapter in Baba Amte's life—one in which his concern moved beyond individual communities to the environment and the future of India itself.

**Part 4: The Man Who Walked for the Narmada — Baba Amte's final great crusade. **

Baba Amte — Part 4

The Man Who Stood With the Narmada

By the 1980s, Baba Amte was already an institution in himself.

He had built Anandwan. His family was serving tribal communities at Hemalkasa. He could easily have spent his remaining years quietly overseeing the work he had created.

He chose not to.

His attention turned towards the Narmada Valley.

Large dams were being constructed as part of the Narmada Valley Development Project. The projects promised irrigation, electricity and development—but they also meant the displacement of large numbers of people, including many tribal communities.

Baba Amte became deeply concerned about the human and environmental consequences.

"I will stand with them"

He moved to the Narmada Valley and established Narmadaai near the river.

Once again, his approach was characteristic.

He did not simply issue statements from a distant office.

He went and lived among the affected people.

He supported the movement that came to be associated with Narmada Bachao Andolan.

His presence gave the struggle enormous moral visibility.

Development—but for whom?

Baba Amte was not simply opposed to development.

His question was more fundamental:

When a nation develops, who pays the price?

If a dam brings electricity and irrigation to millions, but forces vulnerable communities from their ancestral homes without adequate rehabilitation, can that development be called complete?

For Baba Amte, development had to include justice, dignity and humanity.

An old man who refused to retire

There is something remarkable about this chapter.

Baba Amte was already in his seventies.

Yet age did not persuade him to withdraw from difficult causes.

The same man who had once entered Anandwan to serve people rejected because of disease now stood beside villagers whose homes and livelihoods were threatened by development projects.

His field of service had expanded:

from the individual → to the community → to society → to the environment.

His larger message

Baba Amte's life ultimately challenged a very common understanding of philanthropy.

Philanthropy is often imagined as giving money to those who need it.

His life suggested something much deeper:

Give your time.

Give your courage.

Give your skills.

Give your voice.

And, when necessary, give your life to a cause larger than yourself.

He died in 2008, but Anandwan, Hemalkasa and the institutions created by the Amte family continued his work.

And perhaps that is the finest measure of a philanthropist:

Not how much he gave away,

but how many lives became stronger because he was there.

The Baba Amte story in one line

He did not merely help people whom society had forgotten—he made society remember them.

Part 5  Baba Amte's Legacy — What His Life Teaches.

Baba Amte — Part 5

The Legacy of a Life Given to Others

Baba Amte died in 2008.

But some lives do not end when the person dies.

They continue through the people they inspired, the institutions they created and the values they left behind.

Baba Amte's greatest legacy was not a building, an award or a fortune.

It was Anandwan.

From one man to generations

What began as Baba Amte's determination to help people affected by leprosy became a large community where people could work, learn and live with dignity.

His wife Sadhanatai stood beside him throughout the journey.

His sons, Dr. Vikas Amte and Dr. Prakash Amte, carried the spirit of service forward.

At Hemalkasa, Prakash and Mandakini Amte continued their remarkable work among the tribal population.

The work therefore became something larger than one individual.

It became a tradition of service.

What makes Baba Amte different?

India has produced many generous philanthropists.

But Baba Amte's example was unusual.

He did not merely write cheques.

He entered the lives of the people he served.

He lived with them.

Worked with them.

Shared their difficulties.

And, most importantly, believed in their ability to rebuild their own lives.

That distinction matters.

Charity can provide relief.

Dignity can transform a life.

Five lessons from his life

1. Don't look away.

The suffering we avoid seeing may be precisely where our service is needed.

2. Compassion must become action.

Feeling sympathy is easy. Doing something about it requires courage.

3. Give dignity, not dependence.

The finest service enables people to become self-reliant.

4. One person can begin something extraordinary.

Anandwan began with one man's conviction and grew into a movement.

5. A meaningful life need not be a wealthy life.

Baba Amte demonstrated that the greatest inheritance one can leave is not money, but a better world for those who come after us.

And perhaps this is the most important lesson for our children and grandchildren

We often tell the next generation:

"You must become successful."

Baba Amte's life adds another question:

"Successful—for what?"

A successful life is not measured only by what we acquire.

It can also be measured by what becomes better because we lived.

That is the extraordinary story of Baba Amte.

A young man overcame his fear of a leprosy patient.

That small act of courage became Anandwan.

Anandwan became a movement.

His family carried the movement into the forests of Hemalkasa.

And his voice eventually reached the great environmental and social debates of India.

One man's compassion became a legacy.

And that is why Baba Amte deserves to be remembered—not simply as a philanthropist, but as one of India's great servants of humanity.

Pride falls.

 When Ravana Tried to Lift Mount Kailasa!

Look closely at this incredible Hoysala sculpture. Ravana is shown attempting to lift Mount Kailasa, the sacred abode of God Shiva and Goddess Parvati. This powerful scene is known as Ravananugraha, the grace of God Shiva towards Ravana.

According to the Ramayana tradition, Ravana was travelling towards Lanka when his aerial journey was obstructed at Mount Kailasa. Filled with pride in his immense strength, he attempted to shake and lift the sacred mountain. God Shiva then pressed the mountain down with His toe, trapping Ravana beneath it.

Realising the supreme power of God Shiva, Ravana surrendered his pride and praised Him with deep devotion. The story beautifully represents the transformation of arrogance into surrender and devotion. 

And look at the craftsmanship. The Hoysala sculptors captured this entire dramatic episode in stone, with Ravana struggling below while God Shiva and Goddess Parvati remain above in divine composure.

Nearly 900 years later, the sculpture still tells the same powerful message: no matter how great our strength may be, true greatness lies in surrender before the Supreme.

 Chennakeshava Temple, Belur, Hassan District, Karnataka, 

 

AMOGHAVARSHA I

 

Part 1 — The Emperor Who Preferred the Pen to the Sword 

Some kings are remembered for the kingdoms they conquered.

Some for the monuments they built.

And some for the culture they created.

Amoghavarsha I belongs to the last category.

He was one of the greatest rulers of the Rashtrakuta dynasty, which dominated much of the Deccan in the ninth century.

And his story is unusual.

For a medieval emperor, he showed an extraordinary interest in literature, religion and learning.

A Child on the Throne 

Amoghavarsha was born around 800 CE.

His father was the powerful Rashtrakuta ruler Govinda III.

When Govinda died in 814 CE, Amoghavarsha succeeded him.

He was only about fourteen years old.

Imagine inheriting one of the greatest empires of the Deccan at fourteen.

The kingdom stretched across a vast territory.

Powerful nobles had their own ambitions.

Neighbouring kingdoms were waiting for opportunities.

The young emperor had to learn quickly.

Manyakheta 

One of Amoghavarsha's most important achievements was establishing Manyakheta—modern Malkhed in Karnataka—as the Rashtrakuta imperial capital.

It became a major centre of political power and culture.

From there, Amoghavarsha ruled an empire that extended across large parts of the Deccan and reached into northern and southern India.

A Different Kind of Emperor 

Amoghavarsha did not possess the temperament of the great warrior kings who preceded him.

He was deeply interested in learning and religion.

He patronised scholars.

He supported both Jain and Hindu traditions.

He encouraged literature in Kannada and Sanskrit.

His court became an important centre of intellectual life.

The Pen 

Tradition associates Amoghavarsha with Kavirajamarga, one of the earliest surviving works of Kannada literature.

The work discusses poetry, language and literary style.

Whether or not every portion was personally written by the king, his patronage of Kannada literature was enormously important.

A ruler of a vast empire was helping establish the foundations of a great literary tradition.

The Sword 

But we should not mistake a love of learning for weakness.

Amoghavarsha ruled an enormous and politically complicated empire.

He faced rebellions and rival powers throughout his long reign.

He had to fight when necessary.

Yet his preference appears to have been for stability over endless conquest.

That may be one reason his reign became so long and culturally productive.

Amoghavarsha ruled for approximately six decades.

Few Indian emperors could claim such longevity.

And his greatest achievement may have been this:

He showed that an emperor could build greatness not only through war, but through knowledge.

Part 2 — The Empire of the Rashtrakutas

AMOGHAVARSHA I Part 2 — The Empire of the Rashtrakutas 

Amoghavarsha inherited something enormous.

The Rashtrakuta Empire was one of the great powers of ninth-century India.

Its influence stretched across much of the Deccan and reached into both northern and southern India.

But maintaining such an empire was very different from inheriting it.

An Empire Between Great Powers 

The Rashtrakutas occupied a strategic position in the Deccan.

To the north lay the powerful Gurjara-Pratiharas.

To the east were the Palas of Bengal.

To the south were the Pallavas, Cholas and other powerful kingdoms.

The Deccan was therefore the meeting ground of competing empires.

Amoghavarsha had to defend his position without allowing the empire to become exhausted by constant warfare.

The Struggle for the Deccan 

During the early years of his reign, Amoghavarsha faced rebellions and challenges from powerful feudatories.

His long reign was not peaceful in the modern sense.

There were campaigns, political struggles and changing alliances.

But unlike some rulers who sought glory through continuous conquest, Amoghavarsha appears to have placed great value on consolidating what the Rashtrakutas already possessed.

That decision proved important.

Manyakheta 

Amoghavarsha made Manyakheta the great Rashtrakuta capital.

The city became a centre of administration, commerce, religion and learning.

From here the emperor governed a vast and diverse realm.

The Rashtrakuta empire brought together different languages, traditions and religious communities.

This cultural diversity became one of the strengths of the Deccan.

A Cosmopolitan Court 

Amoghavarsha's court attracted scholars and religious teachers.

Jain scholars enjoyed considerable royal patronage.

Hindu traditions continued to flourish.

Sanskrit remained an important language of scholarship, while Kannada literature began to achieve a new level of prestige.

The emperor's realm was therefore not simply politically powerful.

It was intellectually alive.

The Rashtrakutas and Art 

The Rashtrakutas also left behind some of India's most extraordinary monuments.

The magnificent Kailasa Temple at Ellora, carved out of a single mass of rock, belongs to the Rashtrakuta architectural tradition.

Its scale is astonishing.

An entire temple complex was excavated from the living rock.

It demonstrates the extraordinary artistic confidence of the Rashtrakuta age.

Although the Kailasa temple was begun before Amoghavarsha's reign, it formed part of the cultural inheritance of the empire he ruled.

The Great Achievement 

Amoghavarsha therefore inherited an empire surrounded by rivals.

He preserved it.

He strengthened its institutions.

And he transformed its capital into a centre of culture.

His greatness was not measured by how far he could push his armies.

It was measured by how successfully he could hold together a vast empire while allowing its civilisation to flourish.

And this brings us to the most fascinating aspect of his reign.

The emperor himself became a scholar.

Part 3 — Amoghavarsha the Scholar-King

AMOGHAVARSHA I Part 3 — The Scholar-King 

Amoghavarsha was an emperor.

But he was also something much less common among medieval rulers:

a serious patron and participant in intellectual life.

His court became one of the important centres of learning in ninth-century India.

Kavirajamarga 

The work most closely associated with his reign is Kavirajamarga—literally, The Poet's Guide.

Composed in Kannada, it is generally regarded as the earliest surviving work of Kannada literary criticism and poetics.

It discusses poetry, literary style, language and the proper use of words.

Its importance goes far beyond literature.

It shows that by the ninth century, Kannada had already developed a sophisticated literary culture.

A King Who Valued His Language 

Amoghavarsha's patronage helped Kannada move beyond being merely a language of everyday life.

It became a language capable of expressing:

poetry, philosophy, scholarship and refined literary thought.

This was a remarkable cultural achievement.

The Rashtrakuta court was multilingual, with Sanskrit and Kannada occupying important places in intellectual life.

Jainism and Amoghavarsha 

Amoghavarsha also had a close association with Jainism.

Jain teachers and scholars enjoyed his patronage.

The celebrated Jain philosopher Jinasena was associated with his court.

Jinasena's great work, the Adipurana, belongs to this intellectual world.

Another important scholar, Gunabhadra, continued the literary tradition.

The emperor's court therefore became a meeting place for religion and scholarship.

A Different Idea of Kingship 

Amoghavarsha's personality appears unusual for his age.

He is remembered in tradition as deeply religious and inclined towards peace.

Some accounts even compare his devotion to that of a religious ascetic.

Whether every later story is historically exact or not, the broad picture is clear:

Amoghavarsha valued learning and spiritual life enormously.

He did not measure greatness solely through military conquest.

Yet He Was an Emperor 

It would be wrong, however, to imagine him as a king who simply abandoned politics.

He ruled one of the largest empires of his time.

He dealt with rebellions.

He maintained alliances.

He defended his territories.

He exercised royal authority for an extraordinarily long period.

His achievement was finding a balance between power and restraint.

Six Decades on the Throne 

Amoghavarsha ruled for roughly sixty years.

That alone is remarkable.

But what makes his reign memorable is what happened during those decades.

The Rashtrakuta Empire remained a major Deccan power.

Manyakheta became a centre of culture.

Kannada literature flourished.

Jain and Hindu traditions received patronage.

And the emperor himself became associated with scholarship.

He proved that a ruler could leave behind something more enduring than conquered territory.

He could leave behind a culture.

Part 4 — The Emperor of Many Faiths

AMOGHAVARSHA I Part 4 — The Emperor of Many Faiths 

The ninth-century Deccan was not a land of a single religious tradition.

Shaivism, Vaishnavism and Jainism all flourished.

Amoghavarsha ruled over this diverse world—and his reign became an example of how different traditions could flourish under one crown.

A Devout King 

Amoghavarsha had a strong personal interest in religion.

He was particularly associated with Jainism, and Jain teachers enjoyed his patronage.

Yet the Rashtrakuta Empire was never exclusively Jain.

Hindu temples and traditions continued to receive royal support.

The great religious monuments of the Deccan belong to a cultural world in which different traditions existed side by side.

The Scholars Around Him 

The emperor's court attracted remarkable intellectuals.

The Jain scholar Jinasena was associated with Amoghavarsha and composed important works of philosophy and literature.

Gunabhadra, another eminent Jain scholar, continued this tradition.

Their presence tells us something about the atmosphere of the Rashtrakuta court.

The emperor valued people who could think, write and teach.

Religion and Scholarship 

For Amoghavarsha, religion was not simply ritual.

It was connected with questions of ethics, knowledge and the nature of life.

This intellectual atmosphere encouraged literature and philosophical discussion.

It also helped Manyakheta become an important centre of learning.

A Deccan of Many Traditions 

The Rashtrakuta Empire itself was culturally diverse.

Different regions had different languages and religious traditions.

A successful emperor therefore needed more than military power.

He needed the ability to govern people who did not all share the same customs.

Amoghavarsha's long reign suggests that he understood this.

His kingdom remained a major power while its religious and literary life flourished.

A Different Measure of Greatness 

We often measure ancient rulers by the territory they conquered.

Amoghavarsha invites us to use another measure:

What did the ruler allow his civilisation to become?

Under him, Kannada literature developed.

Scholars were patronised.

Religious traditions flourished.

Manyakheta became a cultural centre.

And the Rashtrakuta Empire remained one of the great powers of the Deccan.

This was greatness of a quieter kind.

Not the roar of conquest, but the creation of an environment in which knowledge could flourish.

And that may be why Amoghavarsha remains one of the most fascinating rulers of medieval India.Q

Part 5 — The Emperor Who Chose Peace

AMOGHAVARSHA I Part 5 — The Emperor Who Chose Peace 

Amoghavarsha inherited a vast empire.

He could have sought glory through endless conquest.

Instead, he appears to have preferred stability.

That choice was unusual for a medieval emperor.

Peace as a Policy 

Amoghavarsha faced rebellions and wars during his long reign.

He could not simply avoid conflict.

But unlike rulers whose reputations were built almost entirely on military conquest, Amoghavarsha's lasting achievement was the consolidation of the Rashtrakuta Empire.

He maintained the empire's position while giving greater attention to administration, religion and culture.

The Emperor and His Subjects 

Later traditions portray Amoghavarsha as a ruler deeply concerned with the welfare of his people.

His long reign itself suggests a remarkable degree of political stability.

He did not need to spend his entire reign proving himself through new conquests.

Instead, he allowed the empire's institutions to mature.

A Court of Learning 

While armies defended the empire, scholars transformed its intellectual life.

Kannada literature flourished.

Sanskrit scholarship continued.

Jain philosophers and Hindu scholars found royal patronage.

Manyakheta became a centre where politics, religion and learning met.

This was a different kind of imperial achievement.

The Measure of a King 

Amoghavarsha reminds us that there is more than one way to be a great ruler.

Rajaraja Chola demonstrated the power of conquest and monumental creation.

Pulakeshin II showed the strength of the Deccan against a northern emperor.

Vishnuvardhana transformed a kingdom through political power and art.

Rudrama Devi proved herself through determined rule and military leadership.

Amoghavarsha represents another path:

The power to preserve.

The wisdom to govern.

The humility to learn.

Six Decades 

Amoghavarsha's reign lasted for roughly sixty years.

That is an extraordinary period for any ruler.

He witnessed the rise and fall of rivals, changing political alliances and generations of nobles.

Yet the Rashtrakuta Empire survived as a major Deccan power.

And when he died around 878 CE, he left behind something more enduring than a list of victories.

He left behind a civilisation that had flourished under his patronage.

A Different Kind of Greatness 

Perhaps that is why Amoghavarsha deserves a place among India's great rulers.

He reminds us that the greatness of a king cannot always be measured by the number of battles won.

Sometimes it is measured by the knowledge created, the culture protected and the peace maintained.

And in that respect, Amoghavarsha was extraordinary.

Part 6 — Amoghavarsha: The Legacy of the Scholar-King

AMOGHAVARSHA I

Part 6 — The Legacy of the Scholar-King

Around 878 CE, after a reign of roughly six decades, Amoghavarsha I passed from the stage of history.

He had inherited an empire.

He left behind something more lasting:

a cultural legacy.

The Emperor Who Enriched Kannada

The work associated with his reign, Kavirajamarga, occupies a special place in the history of Kannada literature.

It demonstrates the maturity that Kannada had already achieved as a literary language.

The Rashtrakuta court had helped create an environment where poets and scholars could flourish.

The foundations of a great literary tradition had been strengthened.

A Home for Learning

At Manyakheta, politics and scholarship existed side by side.

Jain thinkers such as Jinasena and Gunabhadra were associated with the intellectual world of the Rashtrakuta court.

Sanskrit learning continued.

Religious debate and philosophical thought flourished.

The emperor had made his court a place where knowledge was valued as highly as power.

Beyond One Religion

Amoghavarsha's own association with Jainism was strong.

Yet the wider Rashtrakuta world remained religiously diverse.

Hindu traditions continued to flourish, and the remarkable monuments of the Rashtrakuta age bear witness to that cultural richness.

This pluralistic character is one of the most attractive features of the period.

The Empire He Preserved

Amoghavarsha was not the greatest conqueror among Indian emperors.

His achievement was different.

He inherited a vast and complicated empire and kept it together for decades.

He dealt with rebellion, rivalry and war while maintaining the Rashtrakutas as one of the dominant powers of the Deccan.

That required not only courage.

It required judgement.

Why We Remember Him

Amoghavarsha teaches us something important about greatness.

A king need not always be remembered for how many kingdoms he conquered.

He can be remembered for what happened within the kingdom he governed.

Under Amoghavarsha:

Literature flourished.
Scholarship was honoured.
Religious traditions received patronage.
Manyakheta became a centre of culture.
And the Rashtrakuta Empire endured.

His reign reminds us that the strength of a civilisation is not measured only by its armies.

It is also measured by its poets, philosophers, artists and thinkers.

The Scholar-King

Rajaraja left us Brihadisvara.

Pulakeshin left us the memory of a Deccan empire that stood against Harsha.

Vishnuvardhana left us Belur.

Rudrama Devi left us the memory of a woman who ruled with courage.

Amoghavarsha left us something quieter—but equally precious:

the idea that an emperor could make learning itself a form of greatness.

That is why, more than eleven centuries later, Amoghavarsha I remains one of the remarkable rulers of India's past.

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