Showing posts with label Success Stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Success Stories. Show all posts

Success story of K.Nandkumar CSE-2006


The 2006 competitive examinations for India's civil services is notable for the number of young people from non privileged backgrounds who feature in the merit list. Again, for the first time, none from India's elite metros appeared in the top ten.Topping the Union Public Services Commission examination is Revu Muthyala Raju, a farmer's son and a member of the so-called Other Backward Classes, whose amazing story we will chronicle later in this special series. No less incredible are the stories of the other toppers. Like K Nandakumar, a lorry driver's son, whose success story we chronicle today.There is, prima facie, something condescending about such headlines; an unstated presumption, almost, that a lorry driver's son topping a competitive exam is a freak show of sorts.K Nandakumar's parents don't think so; they see their son not as some freak of nature, but as a young man who knew what he wanted, and went after it, surmounting obstacles as chance, and circumstance, threw them in his path."He was always a serious student," mother K Lakshmi says. "During school days he never used to go out to play. He used to go for tuitions from six to eight in the morning and again from five to eight in the evening. During exams, he studied till midnight and beyond. And in between, he was in school -- so there really was no time to play."Amusement, as we know it, was limited to a weekend game of cricket, of the limited variety -- limited, in this case, not by the number of overs, but the amount of time Nandakumar could spare for such frivolity: exactly an hour a week.Nandakumar's academic curve is typical of the no-pain, no-gain formulation that increasingly defines the Indian student. Up until the 12th standard, he studied in the Namakkal Government South School, an institution where the medium of instruction was Tamil.With 1,018 marks out of a possible 1,200 in his Higher Secondary exams, he went to the Pollachi Mahalingam College for an engineering degree.Economic constraints, and the feeling that he needed to pitch in to help his father run the household, led to a six-month stint with a private company in Coimbatore. During this period, he attempted to work days, then study nights -- but when work, and the resultant fatigue, began impacting on his studies, he quit to focus on the Indian Administrative Service exams.

The first time he sat for the UPSC exams, he failed. On his second go-round, he ranked 350th -- a result that parlayed into a job with the Indian Railways.Though his sights were set on the IAS, it wasn't easy spurning the job that had come his way -- his background just did not give him such luxuries.Father M Karuppannan, of Mamarthapetti village in Tamil Nadu's Namakkal district, had stopped his own education at the SSC level, and went to work in the paddy fields of his native village.That proved a dead end, so Karuppannan had joined a local lorry service, as a 'cleaner'. During that stint, which lasted two years, he learnt to drive and got his license; he then parlayed that into a job as a driver, and with a relatively steady job in hand, married Lakshmi. The couple had two children: Nandakumar, now 26 and Aravindkumar, now 20.The household ran on Karuppannan's income; as the two boys moved up the academic rungs, expenses escalated and the family finances were stretched impossibly thin.Given this, Nandakumar could not ignore the bird in hand that was the Railways job, while dreaming of the IAS job he hoped to land some day.So he joined the Railways, and began the required training. Nights, he shrugged off the fatigue, and studied for yet another attempt at the big one.This year marked his third -- and, to his mind, final, attempt. When the results came in, his first reaction was relief; that of his parents, pride.He had ranked 30th all India; in his native Tamil Nadu, where he had taken the exam in his mother tongue, he topped the charts.Lakshmi, seated in her home in Tiruchirappalli, where the family moved from Namakkal three years ago, now anticipates her son's homecoming. He has not, she says, managed to get leave for a trip home, after the results were announced; hopefully he will come sometime in June, and the family will celebrate.

She is used to Nandakumar being away from home. When he was studying for his engineering degree, she says, he stayed in the hostel and only came home during holidays.The mother paints a picture of a son focused, to the exclusion of all else, on studies, on the relentless march to his self-appointed goal of becoming an IAS officer. Even when he was in hostel, she says, all he did was study. He didn't like movies; he only had a small circle of friends.Lakshmi is most happy for her husband. "He grew up facing great difficulties and I too come from a poor background. Thus we know the value of money and have always saved. We never waste money. All our life, we have saved to educate our sons."Even now, the grind that she has been witness to, part of, for 27 years is far from ending: Karuppannan continues to drive his lorry, going wherever the load takes him, returning whenever he is done with his deliveries. There is, Lakshmi points out, the younger son still to worry about.Aravindkumar is currently in his second year, working towards his own engineering degree. One year's worth of education costs Rs one lakh (Rs 100,000), she says -- and that is about all her husband can earn.To put food on the table, Lakshmi invested in a sewing machine, and works from home. "I make about one hundred rupees a day, and that takes care of the household expenses," she says, with the smile of a woman who is proud of pulling her freight in the partnership she has with her husband.They have a small two-room house -- but, she points out, it is their own. "My husband will continue to drive his lorry till our second son finishes college," she says.

The mother meanwhile is busy planning how to "settle down" her elder son. "We will find a good girl for him; we don't want dowry or anything, just that she must be a good girl, a good wife for my son."He will agree to an arranged marriage," she says, almost as an afterthought. For her, it is inconceivable that her son, who in all his 26 years has shown no thought for anything other than his academic goal, would have a mind of his own on this subject.She still cannot get over the day she heard the news. "He always used to say he would become famous -- but when he called me (on May 14) and told me the news, my first reaction was to tell him he was lying."Once she realised that her son had found the pot of gold at the end of his particular rainbow, she and her husband rushed to share the news with their relatives, friends.The first real intimation of what Nandakumar had achieved came when Ashish Vachchani, Tiruchi's District Collector, visited their home to felicitate the couple on their son's success.Close on his heels came Murthy, an IAS officer who had previously served in Tiruchi and who was now in neighbouring Karur district.To Karuppannan and Lakshmi, for whom a 'Collector' is only a remove or two from celestial beings and just as unapproachable, to have two such persons visit their humble home was exhilarating; those visits brought home to them, in graphical fashion, the fact that her son was now the equal of these exalted beings.Aravindkumar, happy though he is for his elder brother, has no intention of following in those footsteps; his ambition is to graduate, then find work as an engineer.

His elder sibling, Aravind says, is a "jolly fellow" who would help with studies, who taught him chess and yoga. Nandakumar's success has, he says, given him cachet with his own friends in college, some of whom plan to write the UPSC exam."I have given them my brother's number, so they can ask him for tips," Aravind says, with more than a hint of pride.For both Aravind and Nandakumar, their parents are "our gods". "We are proud of our father," Aravind says. "He is very hardworking and very thrifty."At the centre of all the attention, Nandakumar is a bit bewildered by it all -- especially his sudden, unlooked for fame.There is no secret to success, he says, seemingly puzzled that someone would even ask. "It was hard work and nothing else," he says. "It was a group effort. We are five friends who studied together."The friends went together to trawl through the market, looking for books relating to the civil services; they then pored over their finds. Newspapers were devoured cover to back page, with meticulous care."For current affairs, they usually ask questions about the last one year, so you have to read a lot of newspapers," Nandakumar points out.Like his younger brother, Nandakumar too believes that if there is a "secret" to his "success", it is his father."I am lucky to have a very friendly father," Nandakumar says. "He is very understanding. I can discuss anything with him. More than a father, he is a friend.""He always allowed me to express my thoughts freely. Because of his job, he has had exposure to people and places all over India; maybe that is why he has given me so much freedom to express myself."Down time with his father is a rare commodity since he is always behind the wheel of his lorry, travelling to wherever work takes him."My father doesn't even have a mobile; when he gets somewhere, he calls, and that is how we stay in touch." Nandakumar recalls how, when he passed the UPSC and got a job with the Railways, it was over a month before he could share the news with his father.


Courtesy: Rediff.com

Success Story Of a Small Town Boy-Son of a Rickshaw vendor



The 2006 competitive examinations for India's civil services is notable for the number of young people from non privileged backgrounds who feature in the merit list. For the first time, none from India's elite metros feature in the top ten.
We will bring you some amazing success stories in this special series. Today, meet a rickshaw vendor's son from Varanasi who is one of the IAS toppers this year.
Tears ran down Govind Jaiswal's face and refused to stop. Staring him in the face was the only thing he had ever wanted, and now that he had achieved it, he couldn't even reach out for the keys on his cellphone.
He waited till the tears dried up, till the news sunk in and made that one phone call on which depended the hopes of his entire family.
Govind, 24, the son of an uneducated rickshaw vendor in Varanasi, had grown up with cruel taunts like 'However much you study, you will still be a rickshawpuller.' He had studied with cotton stuffed in his ears to drown the noise of printing machines and generators below his window in a poor neighbourhood where small workshops existed cheek by jowl with tiny residential quarters.
He had given Math tuitions to supplement the paltry sum his father could afford to send him each month. His ailing father had sold a small plot of land to give Govind about Rs 40,000 so that he could move to Delhi which would provide him a better place to study.
Throughout his life, he had lived with only one dream -- to become an officer of the Indian Administrative Service. For him that was the only way. And when he broke the news to his family, that he was ranked 48 among 474 successful candidates in his first attempt at the exam -- it was the turn of his three sisters and father to weep with unbridled joy.
'Besides the Civil Services, I had no option'
Icould not afford to have any other career goal. My life would have been absolutely futile had I not made it into the civil services," says Govind, just back from his medicals in New Delhi, mandatory for the IAS.
"You must understand that my circumstances were such that besides the Civil Services, I had no option. I didn't have much of a chance with lower government jobs because they are mostly fixed, neither could I start a business because I had no money. The only thing I could do was work hard at my studies."
It was almost impossible for him to study in the one room he shared with his family. To add to his woes was the power cut that extended between 10 and 14 hours every day. The moment the lights went out, he had to shut the window to block out the deafening noise of generators in the many workshops around his home.
So in search for a quiet place to study, he briefly shared a friend's room at the Banaras Hindu University. Since that did not help him much, he did what many civil services aspirants in northern India do -- he moved to New Delhi.

His father sold his last plot of land for his son's dream
F or his son to make a fresh start in a city Govind had never visited before, Narayan Jaiswal, Govind's father, sold the only remaining plot of land he had saved after getting his three daughters married.
Working for ten years at the government ration shop, Narayan earned a living by weighing goods at the store. One day when the shop shut down, he bought one rickshaw and hired it out. He added three more and at one time was prosperous enough to own about 36 rickshaws.
That was a period of financial security and Narayan was prudent enough to buy three small plots of land. With three daughters to marry off, he knew he would need it in times to come. But bad times soon befell the family. His wife passed away when Govind was in school. For 10 years there was acute hardship. The rickshaws dwindled.
On his meager earnings, the uneducated rickshaw vendor with a hearing disability continued the education of his children. The girls were married after their graduation -- Narayan sold two pieces of land for the weddings, the last plot was sold to achieve his Govinda's dream.
Narayan gave his son Rs 40,000 to prepare for his Civil Services exam in New Delhi and pursue his childhood dream of becoming an IAS officer. For the next three years, he sent his son between Rs 2,500 and Rs 3,000 every month, sometimes foregoing the expense of treating the septic wound in his foot that continues to nag him till today.

Courier boys found his house with difficulty; now the fruitwallah will tell you where the 'IAS' house is'
Outside his narrow lane, opposite the Varanasi City railway station, where Narayan Jaiswal parks his rickshaws and spends most of his waking hours, he still walks barefooted with a bandage, one end hanging loose and scraping the dirty road.
"Beyond this year, my father could not have afforded to send Govind any more money. It was getting very tough for him. Govind was earning Rs 1,500 from tuitions, I don't know what he would have done if he didn't make it to the IAS this year. My father could not sleep for 10 days before the results came," says Govind's eldest sister Nirmala, whose son is almost the same age as her brother.
Now that he will earn Rs 8,000 as his starting salary during his two-year training period in Mussoorie, Govind says his first priority is getting good treatment for his father's wound.
"I want to look after him, I don't know if he will leave Varanasi but I will definitely move him out of this rented room that we have lived for 35 years."
If his son's new job dramatically changes things for the better, Narayan Jaiswal is quite unaffected by it. He is surprised by the scores of journalists and well wishers flocking to his house.
Until now, courier delivery boys found his house with great difficulty but now even the fruit cart-wallah, one-and-a-half kilometres away, will tell you where the 'IAS' house is.
"I like my work. I haven't decided about the future -- what could be a better place than Kashi? As long as my son looks after me, what else can one want?" he says, visibly uncomfortable with the media spotlight.
'My character will be put to the test, then I want to see what a real man I am'
Having lived his life in Varanasi, the holy city on the banks of the Ganga, Govind has given his home state Uttar Pradesh as his preferred region of posting. If he doesn't get UP, he is open to being sent to any state in India.
"Varanasi needs a tight administration. As for me, I want to be a good officer. We are the agents of change and I as an administrator would like to inform common people about their right to know, their right to information. The benefit should finally go to the people."
His hero is President A P J Abdul Kalam. Govind is reading the Hindi translation of the President's best-selling book On Wings of Fire and takes out a nicely thumbed copy from a plastic bag.
"After Gandhiji, President Kalam has given us a dream and the power to dream. His dream is of a developed India and he is a symbol of many common people's dreams."
In a time when the Indian bureaucracy has its drawbacks like a lack of accountability, corruption and perpetuating a system that was handed down by the British to rule a subordinate population Govind's thoughts are fired by the idealism of youth. He insists his idealism will not be watered down in future years, that he will not allow himself to be influenced.
"I am a product of my circumstances that has been wrought with hardships. When I go out as an officer my character will be put to the test, and then I want to see what a real man I am."
Courtesy: Rediff.com