impact of education on individuals ht

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th i nk! FOCUS | 15 SUNDAY HINDUSTAN TIMES, NEW DELHI JULY 17, 2011 IN THE LIMELIGHT MARENAHALLI BUNDE (KARNATAKA): There are three things Karthika Annamalai misses at home — a bed, a toilet and English. Home for the slim, articulate 19-year- old is the village of Marenahalli Bunde, an untidy collection of unpaved lanes, rudimentary open sewers and one water source on the windswept east- ern edge of India’s technology heart- land, Bangalore. There are two “rooms”, each smaller than a ping-pong table; the flooring is cowdung; the roof, dried coconut fronds; the walls, four granite slabs slammed into the ground. The toilet is the great, smoky outdoors, its Dickensian gloom rising from fires and stone dust in the vast quarry (Bunde is Kannada for quarry), seven-storeys deep. Once a forest, the quarry feeds Bangalore’s unending building boom and sustains the village of about 500 migrants from Tamil Nadu, one invisible drop in the ocean of 300 million internal migrants seeking better lives. At night, six of the extended family squeeze together and sleep on the cool floor. They speak Tamil and a smattering of Kannada. “At school I had my own bed, Ihad a toilet and I spoke English,” says Karthika, who last week moved to the sprawling National Law Institute University in Bhopal from her boarding school for poor but gifted children in rural Tamil Nadu. “It was tough when I went home. I was often homesick for school.” As Karthika prepares for her new life as a law student, she is acutely conscious of the poverty and people she left behind. “I think power is very important to do anything in India,” she says. So is money. “Before politics I need to make some money. Corporate law should allow me to do that.” Her real ambition is to join politics before her 40s and — she says this with great seriousness — to be Prime Minister. Back at the quarry, she is a ful- crum of inspiration. Every child is in school, and mothers gather around me to say they dream of their daughters (there is no mention of sons) being like her. Her ascent from family shack to nation- al prominence — television crew came visiting when she cleared the nationally held common law-admission test — reveals the role that parental sacrifice, individual determination and, often, chance plays in the climb out of poverty. Karthika’s chance came when she was four years old. On the advice of nuns from a local nunnery, her mother Palaniamma, took Karthika to Shanti Bhavan, a boarding school started by Abraham George, a former army captain, author, and philanthropist. “It hurt me a lot, to leave her,” says Palaniamma, a sun-baked, silent woman (Karthika says her mother “closed up” when her father was murdered 15 years ago) who utters her first sentence an hour after our visit. “Shanti Bhavan is the best thing that happened to me,” says Karthika. “Otherwise I would be married like my (elder) sister or breaking stones like my mother.” Palaniamma earns R40 on a good day, working 6 am to 5 pm at the quarry. For two years, 1st standard to 3rd, Karthika was the only child at Shanti Bhavan who never went home. Her moth- er could not afford it. Later, they met twice every year. “My mom and I, we don’t talk much,” says Karthika, who also has two broth- ers, the elder dropped out of school to help his mother at the quarry; the younger studies at a local school. While at school, Karthika met Palaniamma twice a year. “I really care about her, her sacrifices, but I do not know her that well. When I was younger she used to cuddle me. Now, when I call she only asks if I am eating properly, stuff like that.” She pauses. “But I know she loves me.” — Samar Halarnkar NEW DELHI: The sisters studied under the toilet light so that other family members could sleep undisturbed in their one-room quarters. Now their parents can’t stop raving about their “bright” daughters. There is a flurry of activity at Professor HN Gupta’s residence at the Indian Institute of Technology (IIT) Delhi cam- pus. His domestic help Lakshmi’s neigh- bours are over, drinking tea with them, to celebrate her daughters’ achieve- ments. While Sunita, 17, has got admis- sion to History Honours at the presti- gious Sri Venkateswara College, Lakshmi’s younger daughter Anita, 15, has topped her school in the class ten board exams with an A1 grade. Even as Lakshmi appears overjoyed, her husband Ram Bahadur oscillates between happiness and bewilderment. Initially the sisters faced stiff oppo- sition from their dad — a Delhi Jal Board employee — who believes education is a waste of time and money since the girls have to be married off anyway. “He used to create a fuss during their exams. He doesn’t want Anita to take up com- puter science in eleventh saying he can’t afford to get her a computer or pay for coaching classes,” says Sneh, Professor Gupta’s wife. “Every student knows the basics, it’s tough to study computers without one. It was disappointing when papa didn’t support us,” says Anita. “She used to get upset and cry in one corner, thinking she would flunk!” says the elder sister. Their mother says she’s ready to sell off whatever jewels she has to pay for a second-hand system and coach- ing classes. Apart from the disturbing familial bickering, the girls have not had it easy otherwise too. “Since bhai and parents had to sleep early, we would try and study as much in the day-time and in the nights, switch on the toilet light and sit there. Also, we are both used to walk- ing back and forth while reading and learning, and there isn’t much space to do that, it was quite crazy,” says Sunita. “Despite the hardships, the girls have managed what children from more priv- ileged families don’t,” adds Mrs Gupta. Apart from academics, expressive Sunita is a trained Bharatanatyam dancer, loves theatre and has won dozens of certificates at school level apart from the best student award in class 12. She wants to be an archaeolo- gist when she grows up. “I want to make documentaries,” she says. Meanwhile, studious Anita wants to become a soft- ware engineer and is focused on mak- ing the IIT entrance. “We have always lived in IIT since our parents have worked here. I want to crack the exam so we stay on,” she smiles. Apart from their parents, the girls’ achievement has made the family they stay with proud too. As Sneh Gupta goes in to get apple juice for everyone, the girls shyly swing their feet sitting on the Guptas’ living room sofa. The sisters enjoy trolling the “shiny shops” in Delhi’s malls. “We can’t buy anything since it’s all so expensive, but it is fun to roam around since it’s all air-conditioned.” — Shalini Singh Sunita is a trained Bharatanatyam dancer; Anita (left) wants to clear the IIT exam and become an engineer Neighbours in Mumbai’s Jai Hind chawl have already begun calling Tiwari “doctor sahib” PRASAD GORI/HT Last week Annamalai moved from her boarding school for poor but gifted children to the sprawling, shiny National Law Institute University in Bhopal. Her mother Palaniamma (right) earns R40 a day, working 6 am to 5 pm at a stone quarry PRAVEEN BAJPAI/ HT PHOTO MUMBAI: As Smita Mahadik, 21, walks in to her brightly lit, plush IBM office in Pune, she often fondly remembers the nights she spent studying on the wooden loft of her shanty. Every monsoon when water flooded their home she would quietly climb up to the wooden plank straddling on one side of the room to keep her books safe. “I would either be in school or study- ing on the loft,” she said. “Studying was my life.” Life was difficult then. Her father Vijay, then 40, was earning R1,800 a month as a peon in a private firm. Her mother Laxmi, a housewife, spent her time cooking and cleaning after her dozen-strong family members that included various cousins, all of who shared a 100-square-feet room in a Prabhadevi slum. In 2004, Smita topped the state board exam in the Mumbai municipal school category by scoring 89.6%. "It was the best day of our lives," she smiles, "My parents were proud. So many relatives and politicians came to visit me. My photograph was printed in the papers." But college only added to her prob- lems. The family had no money to sup- port further education. “Let alone edu- cation, I had barely enough to feed my children,” said Vijay, who now earns R6,000 as a peon. After her board result, Smita received R50,000 in prize money from government and charitable sources, which went towards her junior college fees at Ruparel College in Matunga and for the first year of engineering college. “But I had enough to pay just the first year’s fees,” she said. “I knew I might have to drop out any time.” So Smita started teaching young children in her first year, earning R2,000 in all. At the start of her second year, Smita was R20,000 short of the R50,000 annual fee. But a government scheme for scheduled castes and tribes came to her rescue, allowing her to pay one- tenth of the fee until the final year. Money wasn’t the only challenge; she suddenly had to function in an English- speaking world. “I would stare at the board all day, trying to make sense of what was written there,” she said. Katalyst, a non-profit programme that works towards empowerment of women helped Mahadik with financial assistance and trained her to face inter- views. By the time this scholarship student at the Sardar Patel Institute of Technology in Andheri finished her computer engineering she had offers to join Infosys Technologies and IBM as a software programmer – each offer- ing her a six-figure annual package that is three times her father’s salary. Last month she took up a job at IBM, Pune. “My daughter is half my age but earns much more than me,” her father says proudly, “It is all her hard work. I only studied till class VII. I could never guide her.” Now, a few cousins from her village near Ratnagiri have moved in to their one-room-kitchen flat in Prabhadevi that was developed under the govern- ment slum rehabilitation scheme last year. All inspired by Smita’s success, they plan to follow her example. But this isn’t the end of Smita’s jour- ney. While she has been paid a nomi- nal amount for the first 15 days at work, Smita hasn’t spent a penny. Most of it will reach Mumbai to support her fam- ily. “I have a family to support. I still have to finish my higher studies,” she smiles, “There is still a long way to go.” — Radhika Raj MUMBAI: He practised physics theorems and chemical equations with the TV playing on full volume. Even the constant presence of nosy neigh- bours and relatives into his one-room house in a Mumbai chawl didn’t distract Vivek Tiwari. “I was so accustomed to the noise and activity in the room that I couldn’t study in a quiet place,” said Tiwari, 19, who topped the Maharashtra Common Entrance Test, which determines entry into medical colleges in the state, in his second attempt this year, scoring 195 out of 200 marks. “Considering my preparation, I knew I would be among the top 10. But getting right at the top was still a huge surprise.” Ten years ago, his father, Premshankar, 43, lost his well-paying job at Standard Mills, and took to driving an auto rickshaw. “It was a dif- ficult phase because my mother had a major accident during the same peri- od, so we exhausted all our savings footing the hospital bill,” he said. “It was back then that I decided I want- ed to become a doctor, and cure my friends and family for free.” Driven by the dream to buy a big- ger house for his family and to be referred to as the “world’s topmost neurosurgeon”, Tiwari began prepar- ing for his exams in October 2009. Hoping to do well in both his Class 12 board exam and the medical entrance he spent six months studying more than 15 hours a day. At the end, he scored 90.33% in his Class 12 exams, and secured the 799th rank in the entrance test — his first attempt. “With my rank, I would have had to move out of home and live in a hostel in the interiors of Maharashtra,” he explained. “My father would have had to incur a lot of additional expenses, which he said would be very difficult to fund. Knowing that I had the potential, my mother convinced me to take the entrance exam for the second time this year. Local tutors gave me private class- es for free and ensured that I stayed calm throughout the preparatory year.” When the results were declared on June 14, he went wild, his neighbours taking his screams for a family fight. “Because I don’t have a computer at home, my tuition teacher checked my results. When he said I had topped, my friends and family began to squeal, alert- ing my neighbours, who came running to our rescue,” he said, grinning. People in the chawl have already begun call- ing him “doctor sahib.” “Earlier, it used to take a lot of effort to convince my mother to make aloo parathas,” he said. “Nowadays, I don’t even need to ask.” — Reetika Subramanian SUNITA 17, History student at Sri Venkateswara College ANITA 15, Class 10 school topper FATHER: JAL BOARD WORKER MOTHER: DOMESTIC HELP VIVEK TIWARI 19, Medical entrance topper, Maharashtra FATHER: AUTORICKSHAW DRIVER MOTHER: HOUSEWIFE SMITA MAHADIK, 21 Employee, IBM, Pune FATHER: PEON MOTHER: HOUSEWIFE After her board results, Smita received R50,000 in prize money, which went towards her junior college fees at Ruparel College in Matunga JASJEET PLAHA/HT PHOTO GIREESH GV/ HT PHOTO KALPAK PATHAK/ HT PHOTO KARTHIKA ANNAMALAI, 19 Has cleared the national Common Law Admission Test FATHER: MURDERED MOTHER: QUARRY WORKER BEATING THE ODDS Stone quarry to law school, shanty to IBM, chawl to medical school — the latest stories of young people climbing out of poverty show us how the old India can become the new WHY KARTHIKA ANNAMALAIWANTS TO BE PRIME MINISTER

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Page 1: Impact of education on individuals   ht

think! FOCUS| 15SUNDAY HINDUSTAN T IMES, NEW DELHI

JULY 17 , 201 1

IN THE LIMELIGHT

MARENAHALLI BUNDE(KARNATAKA): There arethree things KarthikaAnnamalaimissesathome— a bed, a toilet andEnglish.Home for the slim, articulate 19-year-

old is the village ofMarenahalli Bunde,an untidy collection of unpaved lanes,rudimentary open sewers and onewater source on the windswept east-ern edge of India’s technology heart-land,Bangalore.Thereare two“rooms”,each smaller than a ping-pong table;the flooring is cowdung; the roof, driedcoconut fronds; the walls, four graniteslabs slammed into the ground.Thetoilet isthegreat,smokyoutdoors,

its Dickensian gloom rising from firesandstonedust in thevastquarry (Bundeis Kannada for quarry), seven-storeysdeep. Once a forest, the quarry feedsBangalore’sunendingbuildingboomandsustainsthevillageofabout500migrantsfrom Tamil Nadu, one invisible drop intheoceanof300millioninternalmigrantsseeking better lives. At night, six of theextended family squeeze together andsleeponthecool floor.TheyspeakTamiland a smattering of Kannada.“At school I had my own bed, I had a

toiletandIspokeEnglish,”saysKarthika,who last week moved to the sprawlingNational Law Institute University inBhopal fromherboardingschool forpoorbut gifted children in rural Tamil Nadu.“It was tough when I went home. I wasoften homesick for school.”

AsKarthika prepares for her new lifeasa lawstudent, she isacutelyconsciousof thepovertyandpeopleshe leftbehind.“I think power is very important to doanything in India,” shesays.So ismoney.“Before politics I need to make somemoney. Corporate law should allow meto do that.” Her real ambition is to joinpolitics before her 40s and — she saysthiswithgreatseriousness—tobePrimeMinister. Back at the quarry, she is a ful-crum of inspiration. Every child is inschool, and mothers gather around metosaytheydreamoftheirdaughters(thereis nomention of sons) being like her.Herascentfromfamilyshacktonation-

al prominence — television crew camevisiting when she cleared the nationallyheld common law-admission test —reveals the role that parental sacrifice,individual determination and, often,chance plays in the climb out of poverty.Karthika’schancecamewhenshewas

fouryearsold.Ontheadviceofnunsfromalocalnunnery,hermotherPalaniamma,took Karthika to Shanti Bhavan, aboarding school started by AbrahamGeorge, a former army captain, author,and philanthropist.“It hurt me a lot, to leave her,” says

Palaniamma,asun-baked, silentwoman(Karthika says her mother “closed up”whenher fatherwasmurdered 15 yearsago) who utters her first sentence anhour after our visit.“Shanti Bhavan is the best thing that

happened to me,” says Karthika.“Otherwise I would be married like my(elder) sister or breaking stones likemymother.” Palaniamma earns R40 on agood day, working 6 am to 5 pm at thequarry. For two years, 1st standard to3rd,KarthikawastheonlychildatShantiBhavanwhoneverwenthome.Hermoth-er could not afford it. Later, they mettwice every year.“Mymomand I,wedon’t talkmuch,”

says Karthika, who also has two broth-ers, the elder dropped out of school tohelp his mother at the quarry; theyounger studies at a local school.Whileat school, Karthika met Palaniammatwiceayear. “I really careabouther, hersacrifices,butIdonotknowherthatwell.When Iwas younger sheused to cuddleme. Now, when I call she only asks if Iam eating properly, stuff like that.” Shepauses. “But I know she lovesme.”

—Samar Halarnkar

NEW DELHI: The sistersstudied under the toiletlight so that other familymembers could sleepundisturbed in theirone-room quarters. Nowtheir parents can’t stopravingabout their “bright”daughters.There is a flurry of activity atProfessorHN Gupta’s residence at the IndianInstitute ofTechnology (IIT)Delhi cam-pus.HisdomestichelpLakshmi’s neigh-bours are over, drinking teawith them,to celebrate her daughters’ achieve-ments.While Sunita, 17, has got admis-sion to History Honours at the presti-gious Sri Venkateswara College,Lakshmi’s younger daughterAnita, 15,has topped her school in the class tenboard exams with an A1 grade.EvenasLakshmi appears overjoyed,

her husband Ram Bahadur oscillatesbetweenhappiness andbewilderment.Initially the sisters faced stiff oppo-

sition fromtheirdad—aDelhiJalBoardemployee—who believes education isa waste of time and money since thegirls have tobemarriedoff anyway. “Heused tocreatea fussduring theirexams.He doesn’t want Anita to take up com-puter science ineleventhsayinghecan’tafford to get her a computer or pay forcoachingclasses,” saysSneh,ProfessorGupta’swife. “Every student knows thebasics, it’s tough to study computerswithout one. Itwasdisappointingwhenpapadidn’t supportus,” saysAnita. “She

used to get upset and cry in one corner,thinkingshewould flunk!” says theeldersister. Theirmother says she’s ready tosell off whatever jewels she has to payfor a second-hand system and coach-ing classes.Apart from the disturbing familial

bickering, the girls have not had it easyotherwise too. “Since bhai andparentshad to sleep early, we would try andstudy as much in the day-time and inthenights, switch on the toilet light andsit there.Also,wearebothused towalk-ing back and forth while reading andlearning, and there isn’tmuch space todo that, itwas quite crazy,” saysSunita.“Despite thehardships, thegirls have

managedwhat children frommorepriv-ileged families don’t,” addsMrsGupta.Apart from academics, expressive

Sunita is a trained Bharatanatyamdancer, loves theatre and has wondozens of certificates at school levelapart from the best student award inclass 12. She wants to be an archaeolo-gistwhenshegrowsup. “Iwant tomakedocumentaries,” she says. Meanwhile,studiousAnitawants to becomea soft-ware engineer and is focused on mak-ing the IIT entrance. “We have alwayslived in IIT since our parents haveworked here. I want to crack the examso we stay on,” she smiles.Apart from their parents, the girls’achievement hasmade the family theystay with proud too. As Sneh Guptagoes in to get apple juice for everyone,the girls shyly swing their feet sittingon the Guptas’ living room sofa.The sisters enjoy trolling the “shinyshops” in Delhi’s malls. “We can’t buyanything since it’s all so expensive, butit is fun to roam around since it’s allair-conditioned.”

—Shalini Singh

■ Sunita is a trained Bharatanatyamdancer; Anita (left) wants to clear theIIT exam and become an engineer

■ Neighbours in Mumbai’s Jai Hindchawl have already begun callingTiwari “doctor sahib” PRASAD GORI/HT

■ Last week Annamalai moved from her boarding school for poor but gifted children to the sprawling, shiny National Law Institute University inBhopal. Her mother Palaniamma (right) earns R40 a day, working 6 am to 5 pm at a stone quarry PRAVEEN BAJPAI/ HT PHOTO

MUMBAI: As SmitaMahadik, 21, walks in toher brightly lit, plush IBMoffice in Pune, she oftenfondly remembers thenights she spent studyingon the wooden loft of hershanty.Every monsoon when water floodedtheir home shewould quietly climb upto thewooden plank straddling on oneside of the roomtokeepher books safe.“I would either be in school or study-ing on the loft,” she said. “Studyingwasmy life.”Life was difficult then. Her father

Vijay, then 40, was earning R1,800 amonth as a peon in a private firm. Hermother Laxmi, a housewife, spent hertime cooking and cleaning after herdozen-strong family members thatincluded various cousins, all of whoshared a 100-square-feet room in aPrabhadevi slum. In 2004, Smitatopped the state board exam in theMumbaimunicipal school category byscoring 89.6%."Itwas the best day of our lives," she

smiles, "My parents were proud. Somany relatives and politicians came tovisit me. My photograph was printedin the papers."But college only added to her prob-

lems. The family had nomoney to sup-

port further education. “Let alone edu-cation, I had barely enough to feedmychildren,” said Vijay, who now earnsR6,000 as a peon.After her board result, Smita

received R50,000 in prize money fromgovernment and charitable sources,whichwent towards her junior collegefees atRuparelCollege inMatunga andfor the first year of engineering college.“But I had enough to pay just the

first year’s fees,” she said. “I knew Imight have to drop out any time.” SoSmita started teaching young childrenin her first year, earning R2,000 in all.At the start of her second year, Smitawas R20,000 short of the R50,000annual fee. But a government schemefor scheduled castes and tribes cameto her rescue, allowing her to pay one-tenth of the fee until the final year.Moneywasn’t the only challenge; she

suddenly had to function in anEnglish-speaking world. “I would stare at theboard all day, trying to make sense ofwhat was written there,” she said.Katalyst, a non-profit programme

that works towards empowerment ofwomen helpedMahadikwith financialassistance and trainedher to face inter-views.By the time this scholarship student

at the Sardar Patel Institute ofTechnology in Andheri finished hercomputer engineering she had offersto join Infosys Technologies and IBMasa softwareprogrammer– eachoffer-ingher a six-figure annual package that

is three times her father’s salary. Lastmonth she took up a job at IBM, Pune.“My daughter is half my age but

earnsmuchmore thanme,” her fathersays proudly, “It is all her hard work. Ionly studied till classVII. I could neverguide her.”Now, a few cousins from her village

near Ratnagiri have moved in to theirone-room-kitchen flat in Prabhadevithat was developed under the govern-ment slum rehabilitation scheme last

year. All inspired by Smita’s success,they plan to follow her example.But this isn’t the end of Smita’s jour-

ney. While she has been paid a nomi-nal amount for the first 15 days atwork,Smita hasn’t spent a penny. Most of itwill reachMumbai to support her fam-ily. “I have a family to support. I stillhave to finish my higher studies,” shesmiles, “There is still a longway to go.”

—Radhika Raj

MUMBAI: He practisedphysics theorems andchemical equations withthe TV playing on fullvolume.Even theconstantpresence of nosy neigh-bours and relatives intohis one-room house in aMumbai chawl didn’tdistract Vivek Tiwari.“Iwas so accustomed to the noise andactivity in the room that I couldn’tstudy in a quiet place,” saidTiwari, 19,who topped theMaharashtraCommonEntranceTest,whichdeterminesentryinto medical colleges in the state, inhis second attempt this year, scoring

195 out of 200 marks. “Consideringmy preparation, I knew I would beamong the top 10. But getting right atthe top was still a huge surprise.”Ten years ago, his father,

Premshankar, 43, lost his well-payingjob at Standard Mills, and took todriving anauto rickshaw. “Itwas adif-ficult phase because my mother hadamajor accidentduring the sameperi-od, so we exhausted all our savingsfooting the hospital bill,” he said. “Itwas back then that I decided I want-ed to become a doctor, and cure myfriends and family for free.”Driven by the dream to buy a big-

ger house for his family and to bereferred to as the “world’s topmostneurosurgeon”, Tiwari began prepar-ing for his exams in October 2009.Hoping to do well in both his Class 12board examand themedical entrancehe spent six months studying morethan 15 hours a day. At the end, hescored 90.33% in his Class 12 exams,and secured the 799th rank in theentrance test — his first attempt.

“Withmy rank, I would have had tomove out of home and live in a hostelin the interiors of Maharashtra,” heexplained. “My father would have hadto incur a lot of additional expenses,whichhesaidwouldbeverydifficult tofund.Knowing that Ihad thepotential,my mother convinced me to take theentranceexamfor thesecond timethisyear.Local tutorsgavemeprivateclass-es for free and ensured that I stayedcalmthroughout thepreparatoryyear.”When the results were declared on

June 14, he went wild, his neighbourstaking his screams for a family fight.“Because I don’t have a computer athome, my tuition teacher checked myresults.Whenhesaid Ihad topped,myfriendsandfamilybegantosqueal,alert-ingmyneighbours,whocamerunningtoourrescue,”hesaid, grinning.Peoplein the chawl have already begun call-inghim“doctor sahib.” “Earlier, it usedto take a lot of effort to convince mymother tomakealooparathas,”hesaid.“Nowadays, I don’t even need to ask.”

—Reetika Subramanian

SUNITA 17, History student atSri Venkateswara CollegeANITA 15, Class 10 school topperFATHER: JAL BOARDWORKERMOTHER: DOMESTIC HELP

VIVEK TIWARI 19,Medical entrance topper, MaharashtraFATHER: AUTORICKSHAWDRIVERMOTHER: HOUSEWIFE

SMITA MAHADIK, 21Employee, IBM, PuneFATHER: PEONMOTHER: HOUSEWIFE

■ After her board results, Smita received R50,000in prize money, which went towards her juniorcollege fees at Ruparel College in Matunga

JASJEET PLAHA/HT PHOTO

GIREESH GV/ HT PHOTOKALPAK PATHAK/ HT PHOTO

KARTHIKA ANNAMALAI, 19Has cleared the national Common Law Admission Test

FATHER: MURDERED MOTHER: QUARRYWORKER

BEATING THE ODDS Stone quarry to law school, shanty to IBM, chawlto medical school — the latest stories of young people climbing out ofpoverty show us how the old India can become the new

WHYKARTHIKAANNAMALAIWANTSTO BE PRIMEMINISTER