When he was six years old he scribbled the rhymes:
“My home is my school I sit on a stool With no teachers to rule I keep myself too cool
“My home is my school Myself my teacher So I’ll become no scholar I’ll become no fool”
Perhaps his efforts to clothe his thoughts and sentiments with words have their beginning in these humble lines. When he was around 10 years of age he sent a poem to the children’s magazine “Twinkle”. In return, he received a post card from its editor the well known “Uncle Pai” stating his inability to accept the poem as “Twinkle” had then no space for poetry. But he had further added that “Poets are not made overnight. But you seem to be a budding poet. Keep writing. Best wishes.” That served him as a motivation and he kept the flame burning. Years later when he was 20 years old a poem of his appeared in print for the first time – in the “Youthfully Yours” page of the newspaper “Indian Express”. That served as an inspiration for his family members, especially his sisters, and his eldest sister started salvaging the poems he would sometimes scribble on paper and carelessly throw away. By then he had grown up enough not to have any interest in things such as saving his writings, publishing etc. He was more concerned with exploring the different facets of Life that now posed before him great adversities and innumerable challenges.
Having been disabled by paralysis of both lower limbs (since when he was one and a half years old) li..
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