People of Value

Abdul Samad

Hockey player Abdul Samad was born with a disability — he can neither speak nor hear. Any other parent would have given in to despair.

Abdul Farooq was different. A State player himself, Farooq took his son Samad, then 11 years old, along to the BHEL Sports Complex in Bhopal so that he could learn the basics of the game. Samad was a good learner and now is the second choice goalkeeper for the senior Bhopal team.

Splendid show: In the St. Joseph’ -TNHA junior National men’s championship being held here, Bhopal failed to qualify for the second stage but Samad made a definite impression with some splendid saves against Services and SAI under the bar.

Says A.K. Bansal, a selector, “He is good at this level. He has the capacity to grow.” Bhopal coach Ovez Sher Khan says he concentrates hard and is quite quick in his movements.

Samad’s rise has proved that disability cannot deny talent its due. His enterprise and enthusiasm were rewarded. In a major turnaround in his career, Samad played for Bhopal in the sub-junior National championship in Bangalore in 2001-02. Two years ago, SAI recognised his talent and took him into its fold.

“I just concentrate on the ball,” Samad says through sign language interpreted by team captain Nadeem Baig.

There are indications that he might be among the India Youth under-18 probables. For Samad, an Ashish Balal fan, representing India is not a dream, it is just a progression.

Source: K. Keerthivasan, Abdul Samad, a dream story, The Hindu, 29th June 2007.

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The team of six

Frantic with worry, the man is scanning the thousands milling around him on the railway platform when he relaxes as the overhead loudspeakers blare: “Your attention please, Shamik Nandy, coming from Naihati, your father is waiting for you near the RPF booth”. Elsewhere, a harassed family is worrying about their train, when the next announcement brings hope: “New Jalpaiguri bound 5657 Kanchanjangha Express will leave from platform number 9 (A) at 6.45 pm.”

As passengers marshal all their senses in the chaotic bustle that is Sealdah or Howrah, very few bother to think about the faceless voices that come to their aid without fail, nearly a thousand announcements a day on an average.

At Sealdah, keeping track of train movement, separated travelers or even simple alerts are six visually-challenged persons. This team used to make all announcements before the introduction of digitized software for suburban train arrivals and departures four or five years ago. Today, they are still in charge of long-distance trains. “Passengers identify better with the tenderness in a human voice,” said Arup Chakraborty, a member of the team.

Arup Chakraborty, Ranjit Choudhury, Dilip Bala, Pradip Dey, Polly Bhattacharya and Manju Basak are the members of this announcement team at Sealdah, which functions from the control room of the divisional railway manager. Middle-aged, some married and with grown up children, these Eastern Railway employees work together with their colleagues, doing the same hours, and refuse special treatment. None of them were visually challenged by birth. They went blind over the years and had to enter the job market with their handicap.

Arup Chakraborty was the first announcer in the Sealdah section of Eastern Railways (South Eastern Railway pioneered the employment of visually challenged people in this cell when it took in Ranavir Dutta, a friend of Chakraborty, way back in 1978. Mahavir Prasad Chetia, a visually challenged industrialist and secretary of the West Bengal chapter of the National Association for the Blind, had recommended Dutta — by then an accomplished elocutionist — to the General Manager of South Eastern Railways.)

Dutta’s success led Chetia to request the GM of Eastern Railways to recruit Arup Chakraborty in the announcement section of Sealdah in the same year.

Most of Chakraborty’s team members were recruited in 1981, which was the International year for the Disabled. Since then, there has been no addition to their ranks.

The six were students of either the Calcutta Blind School in Behala or the School for Blind at Narendrapur. These schools stressed voice training for the students, giving them a professional, customer-centric quality. This training, in turn, helped them get their coveted jobs. “The schools impart voice training because that is one of our most important assets,” said Chakraborty.

Bala and Dey are still in touch with Calcutta Blind School at Behala, where they teach elocution. Bhattacharya and Basak are excellent Rabindra Sangeet singers. The team rejoices in music sessions and recitation, in which Subrata Biswas and Sajal Kumar Mukherjee of the commercial control team often join them. “Our inability to see has not alienated us from our colleagues,” said Chakraborty. They do not want any privileges because of their blindness. “We are one big team. It is great to share the same working space with them,” said Subrata Biswas.

Chakraborty, a noted bird-sound recordist, is associated with the West Bengal chapter of National Association for the Blind where he teaches JAWS or Job Access with Speech, a software for the visually challenged people. “It is a great software. I can read a text from the Internet or can send an email. With its aid, we can have access to the contemporary development. With its assistance Shah Alam has joined the computerised section of Ballygunge station,” said an enthusiastic Chakraborty.

Source: Poushali Mitra, Lightless, yet shedding light on the Lost... Indian Express, Kolkata, 12 August 2007.

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Renu Duggal

A single mom from Timperley, Altrincham who battled depression after suffering a stroke has been given the royal seal of approval for helping the local community. Renu Duggal’s already difficult life become almost unbearable when, eight years ago, she had a stroke and lost the use of the left side of her body.

Renu, 42, who is originally from India, found her friends gradually abandoning her and slowly succumbed to depression after she was confined to a wheelchair. Although her two sons, now aged 21 and 14, and her 19-year-old daughter were able to look after her, she felt her life slipping away.

So she formed a community group aimed at helping lonely disabled people make new friends. Renu has now been rewarded for her efforts by being picked to receive the Queen’s Award for Voluntary Service.

She says the group has made a massive difference to the lives of others and makes her “feel happy” after years of isolation. Renu said: “It was very, very difficult. I lost all of my friends - they thought my disability was catchable. “It was really, really, hard being stuck in the house. I couldn't get out and I couldn't even look after my children,” she said.

But the turning point came in 2001 when a Trafford social worker - described by Renu as her angel - suggested meeting other disabled people for support and social activities.

She took the advice - and her life was completely turned around.

Renu said: “She told me 'why don't you just get out and do something?'

“She introduced me to disabled people, and I realised that there are people like me out there, people who have disabilities and who are lonely.”

In 2001, Renu, with the help of her social worker, was inspired to set up her a group, called Our Independence, in a nursery in Powell Street, Old Trafford.

The club attracted disabled people from all over the borough and, encouraged by its success, Renu applied for a grant of £5,000 to accommodate all the new members. She was successful.

Renu used the cash to rent the Salvation Army Hall in Brunswick Street, Stretford, and now the group, which has about 20 to 30 members, meet every Wednesday for three hours.

They enjoy arts and crafts, trips to the cinema and the gym and even boating expeditions - all for free. Our Independence is funded out of Renu’s own pocket - she puts in about £50 a week and costs must stay as low as possible.

She said: “Why should we put a bar on disabled people meeting each other? We don’t want to be under social services. We want it to be free.

“It is open for everybody, of any age or any disability. We don’t ask any questions and we don't ask what people are suffering. Everyone is welcome.”

“When people first join they can be scared and shy of being outside and being in public situations, but the group gets them out.

“It lifts me up. I don’t feel as though I have anything wrong with me, I forget all my own problems. It is my life, my spirit.”

Barbara Beeker, Trafford Council’s chief officer for Voluntary Service, said: “People tend to put each other in little boxes, but with this group there is a real mixture of all different disabilities.

“It is very, very, unusual. People really enjoy this group.”

Source: Renu offers ray of hope, www.theasiannews.co.uk/news/s/231/231691_renu_offers_ray_of_hope.html.

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