India has a rich legacy of folk art that has been passed down through generations. And many of them are still alive thanks to these pioneering #artists who've toiled tirelessly for their preservation >>>
“Writing was in me since the beginning. I knew I wanted to write something meaningful, something lasting,” said Pintu Pohan to The Telegraph.
In a bustling corner of Behala, Kolkata, sits a modest paan shop. Behind the counter stands a man who has written 12 Bengali books, over 200 poems and stories, and been published in Desh, Anandamela, Sananda and more.
Meet Pintu Pohan. Paan seller by trade. Writer by heart.
He grew up in poverty and dropped out after Class 10.
To survive, he did it all.
“I have sold fish and flowers, worked as a mason and electrician. Some days, I earned just ₹30. But I never let go of my pen.” he shared.
In the 1960s, Dr. Pramod Sethi, an Indian surgeon, saw a gap that Western prosthetics didn’t work for people who walked barefoot or sat cross-legged.
So he joined hands with Ram Chandra Sharma, a sculptor, and together they created the Jaipur Foot, an innovation born from empathy, not profit.
Decades later, that same invention would cross borders into war-torn Afghanistan…Where thousands of amputees, injured by landmines, would walk again, thanks to India’s ongoing prosthetic camps.
Swipe to discover how a humble Indian invention is rewriting destinies across the world →
When Dr. Ratan Chandra Kar arrived on an Andaman shore in 1998, he wasn’t just entering a forest—he was stepping into 150 years of silence, mistrust, and pain.
The Jarawas had resisted every outsider for generations.
But instead of fear, Dr. Kar met them with food, respect, and quiet persistence.
He didn’t just save lives. He proved that true change begins not with authority, but with humility.
How do you rebuild trust where none existed?
On Doctors' Day, scroll down to see how one man did it—with no weapons, just empathy.
“Dekh rahe ho, Binod?”The line that made us laugh. The face we instantly recognised. But Bhushan ji from Panchayat played by Durgesh Kumar, has lived a story far deeper than that dialogue.
Born in Darbhanga, Bihar, Durgesh moved to Delhi in 2001 with dreams of becoming an engineer.
When entrance exams didn’t go his way, he didn’t give up. He shifted paths, not purpose.
He studied at IGNOU, joined theatre, and later earned a diploma from the National School of Drama. From street plays to the screen, every step was built on determination.
Today, he’s known for his memorable roles in Panchayat and Laapataa Ladies. But behind that success is over a decade of quiet, consistent hustle.
“People only see the success of Panchayat, but the truth is, I’ve struggled for 12 years to reach here,” he told TOI.
From borrowed gear to breaking barriers, India’s women ice hockey players have carved their legacy on frozen ponds.
In the biting cold of Ladakh, where the ice was cracked and the support even thinner, they laid down their own rink, one midnight layer at a time. They were mocked, sidelined, and told to quit, but they didn’t just stay. They scored.
Now, with a bronze at the IIHF Asia Cup, their skates have etched a new chapter in Indian sport—one built on grit, defiance, and generations of quiet revolution.
Not another tuition-fueled test. Not another foreign board with a one-size-fits-all promise.
As 100 Indian schools prepare to bring in the Western Australian curriculum, a quiet shift in education is underway—one where students learn by doing, questioning, building. This move signals a deeper alignment with what learning could really be.
Swipe through to explore how this new board could change the future of Indian classrooms—project by project, question by question >>