Nothing is impossible

Who said India is lacking behind. Here is the example.

Govind Jaiswal IAS!


Govind Jaiswal, 24, the son of an uneducated
rickshaw puller 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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...

Hatsoff to both

Lead with an example for change you want to see.

Long Live India