Saturday, 31 May 2025
Wednesday, 28 May 2025
50 Countries under 50 - Kavita Kumble - solo traveller, blogger and lover of life
If we take the exact same scenario and add just a couple of things in there, like seeking relief by getting out of her routine, wanting to travel and enjoying travel the most in her own company, having a husband and family supportive enough to understand and allow her the liberty and space to do so, we get our very adventurous and happy solo woman traveller.
I think the world is generally a good place but when this solo woman traveller tells me that in the last 11 years of her travelling the world, she hasn't experienced any kind of harassment, I think we're really seeing a global shift of mindsets. This really makes me happy and I am curious to hear Kavita's story.
Kavita Kumble is a blogger, travel enthusiast , mother and a banking professional. Her travels have taken her all over the world and the uniqueness of her trips is that she enjoys them on her own. How does she do them and how did she have the courage to start these adventures in her life I ask her? She says that it may have started from watching her mother who travelled within India to all the temples and pilgrimage sites. Kavita found herself often forced to cook at home because her mother used to take off on her trips. These trips brought her mother joy which was easy to see. Despite having to work in the kitchen during those times in her mother's absence, Kavita credits the joy she saw her mother experience through these travels, as the initial push to discover the world herself.
Yet it was only after her marriage that Kavita actually started travelling seriously. Her husband, it turned out was also married to his work and preferred letting Kavita enjoy her passion on her own. He indicated that he would be happy to listen to her stories second hand. The first couple of times, Kavita travelled with other women who were similar to her in wanting to discover new horizons and experience new things. She took a trip to Scandinavia in 2014 to Norway, Denmark and Sweden with 25 women. This trip allowed her to take note of the incredible modernity of the Scandinavian countries with their amazing infrastructure. Luckily for Kavita, she loves both continental cuisine and cold weather so the trip there was not difficult for her. She made so many memories and friends and in general it boosted her idea of travel being accessible to her.
After that first trip and its success, Kavita travelled with another group of women to Jordan. Another trip, another good experience and more confidence gained, Kavita felt that maybe it was time to take the step of stepping out totally on her own. This of course, raised some eyebrows in the family but nobody actually stopped her. In 2016, she excitedly planned every detail of her first solo trip. She backpacked Eastern Europe - from Berlin to Prague to Austria to Budapest on her own. That trip gave her all the confidence and lessons and excitement and highs that she needed to get hooked. The liberty to do what she wanted, when she wanted without having to negotiate, consult or follow someone else became really something that she was no longer willing to give up.
She has since then covered 50 countries and all the continents. A woman who works hard so that she can spend her money on her priorities in life is an inspiration to so many girls and youngsters. It would be hard for me to get all her travels covered in one article but the most interesting travel she had must take first seat on the post. In December 2017, Kavita travelled solo to Antartica! The idea first came when a friend told her about a group trip to Antartica but the cost was so astronomical that she decided to find a cheaper alternative on her own. Kavita did so much in those 3 weeks when she travelled first from Mumbai to Brazil. Then she missed a flight connection to Argentina and found herself exploring the streets of São Paulo and being forced to really let go of several fears as she spent unplanned time in Brazil. Another challenge was that she had to make it by a specific date to Argentina to board the cruise to Antartica. Several problems later she was able to board that ship. This was her first ever cruise and she travelled onboard with around 200 passengers, mostly French citizens and about 70 Indians. The challenge of this cruise was getting through the Drake Passage where the Ocean is reputed to be very rough, with waves that are 30-40 feet in height. The funny thing is that while going there the sea was completely calm and they didn't feel anything at all but on their way back, they experienced the scenario from hell that we mostly associate with the Titanic type of movies. Cutlery flying everywhere, people being seasick and the ship getting whipped by crazy amounts of water. With the wind wrecking havoc at 150mph, Kavita found herself mostly in her cabin, abstaining from eating or drinking. She remembers having survived on two apples over the two days. Kavita talks of how just before this crazy ocean passage, she had participated with other passengers in a formal Captain Closing Ceremony. Everyone was dressed to the nines and Kavita wore a white sari with golden glimmer to go with the theme of the evening. From Glamour to Gloom would capture that voyage well I think, imagining this pretty lady dressed in all her finery and then finding herself truly in the heart of a storm.
Kavita claims it was worth every hardship. She had just had a trip that was like going to the moon and back, so surreal, so pristine and so raw. She got to see amazing sea life like hunter whales, penguins, seals all in their natural environment. She remembers witnessing glaciers falling. She talks of how she visited the only bar on a Ukrainian base where there were only men. They were all very happy to see so many new faces and especially so many women. In the bar, to their utter astonishment there was a large display of the most colorful bras. These were of women visitors who are offered 3 vodka shots if they were willing to add their bras to this unique collection of inner wear, for all & sundry to admire.
Kavita fondly remembers this voyage as she met some amazing people on the cruise. She mentions that her neighbour aboard the cruise liner was a French writer. She is in touch with him and many of the people she met on this travel and several others even today. There was yet another surprise in store for them after having to weather the storm and getting back to Argentina. A flash strike welcomed them at the Buenos Aires airport and hence the ship housed its passengers for one more day after which they had to find hotels and make new flight bookings at the last minute. A painful and poignant twist to the trip that made her journey back to India more memorable. Something that can only be truly appreciated in retrospect I think.
When I ask Kavita differences that she finds in herself from when she started travelling on her own more than a decade ago and more recently, she mentions that she has slowed down her pace. Earlier, she was eager to do a lot in little time and now she does little things that matter to her with enough time to savour and enjoy the moment. Whether it be lying down and reading a book in a cemetery in Copenhagen or walking the parks in Paris, or meeting locals on her travels and sharing a meal with them. She also travels lighter than before, rarely with more than a small suitcase. She does carry some Indian food essentials and cooks her own breakfast and dinners in the AirBnBs that she books. Her lunches are local restaurants with local flavours to be discovered.
She fondly remembers Dec 2022 when she spent time in Paris and then travelled to Belgium and stayed in a 12th century castle all alone on a night just after Xmas. She was the only guest in the castle and used some liquid courage and chocolates to get her to sleep. She then returned to Paris and brought in the New Year enjoying the crowded Champs Elysees.
Another of her recent cool experiences was booking herself a spot in the Coldplay concert while travelling to New Zealand in Nov 2024.
Kavita has done just too many travels for me to do justice to each of her stories but since she is a blogger you can enjoy her travels on her site and her Instagram. I will leave a list with her details and some of her special travels under.
Along with her mother's travels being a big influence, Kavita has another reason she links to her spirit of adventure. The turning point for her when she started really to make time for herself and what she loves was when she survived a trekking accident back in 2011 where she fell and had a head injury. The 21 staples on her skull and concussion resulted in her making herself a priority. She wants to live life to the fullest ever since she has come back from near death. She even ran a 21kms marathon a year after this accident, against her doctor's advice. Life had given her another chance and she was going to grab it with open arms.
Her message for women is " Never underestimate the force you have within you. Your voice is your power. Speak up, stand tall and change the world. Be financially independent and create a legacy to inspire all, in which ever way you can." Her daughter is happy to see her mother thriving on her travels and Kavita does take one trip with her family every year. She still has several places on her bucket list and her thirst for travel has not lessened.
Why I find Kavita unique is that she is an Indian woman who has an otherwise normal life with a job and a family. Still she sets aside time and money for herself and invests in her own well being. She does what she thinks is correct for her and doesn't need other people along to experience and feel that her travels are worthy. The journey and the route and her own company are what bring her joy. Her story is surely an inspiration to many people who want to travel but don't either for want of a partner or for one of several other reasons.
Kavita says she is busy making money to save up for her next trip and we're eager to know the destination she will hone in on.
Some photos from Kavita's recent travels
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Kavita's blog's home page https://www.kavity.in/
Antartica article https://www.kavity.in/2019/03/the-only-existing-bar-in-antartica/
Skydiving article https://www.kavity.in/2018/09/sky-diving-kill-the-fear/
Tuesday, 27 May 2025
Monday, 26 May 2025
The Little Red Wallet
Life is a wild ride, with its highs and lows, some gains, some losses, some ebbs, some flows. Some things we expect to happen and some things wildly unexpected just happen to us. The way to enjoy this roller coaster ride I have learnt is to sit back, relax and most importantly listen to your gut. The little voice inside us that guides us, nudges us in the right direction and often saves the day.
This is a story about a time when I was totally tuned into that voice inside me. One Sunday morning, I was about to go and spend time with a couple of friends at a Market near the Gare du Midi. This market has several stalls selling vegetables and fruits, plants, cheap household items and also clothes. It was to be a regular morning where we three women could spend some time together and also maybe manage to pick up some good deals.
On my way to the market, the red wallet in my handbag, unusually for me, had 45 euros in cash. Two notes of 20 euros and one of 5 euros. I had to stop on the way to give the 40 euros to someone for tickets I'd purchased for an upcoming event. Initially I was thinking of making the drop on the way back but for some reason, I forced myself to go and run the errand before reaching the market. Then I took the tram and reached the market. I knew it was the little voice at play.
Everything was fine and we were having a good time moving from stall to stall, examining articles, laughing and trying our haggling skills as all true Indians do. However, after about an hour into the shopping spree, I realised that the zip of my handbag was open. When I put my hand into the small handbag, the red wallet was no longer there. I naively continued to move my hand in the small space, hoping the wallet would magically make its way into my hands. No such luck! I told my friends about it. I guess having lived from Mumbai for so many years and not having to travel regularly by public transport had weakened my defense instincts.
Unfortunately, the stall where we were at was crowded and we looked around but couldn't see anything. Despite my general unease, I somehow knew that the red wallet wasn't going anywhere. The stall owner said that unfortunately pickpocketing was very common and I could wait till the end of the market. That would happen in a couple of hours and I would surely find the wallet. Only the cash would have been taken. I decided to do just that. I calmly called my husband and asked him to block my bank cards. There was nothing else I could do at that moment and so I consciously relaxed. I tagged along with my friends who treated me to a lovely sandwich in the market and then they headed back to their homes. After saying our goodbyes, I refocused on the red wallet. I laughed at my good fortune that the cash lost was only 5 euros and remembered being compelled by an inner feeling to complete my morning errand before coming here to the market.
I trained my eyes on the ground while people were starting to pack up the stalls. Some small trucks were in the premises to take away unsold items. There was a lot of paper and carton trash everywhere. I kept feeling that the story with the red wallet was not finished. I turned a corner and right in the middle of the pathway, standing between the heaps of paper and organic debris on either side of her was a smartly dressed police woman in a blue uniform. She was standing with her side facing towards me, so I was looking at her profile. One of her hands was on her waist and clenched in it was my red wallet, bright and shiny. I knew it. I had felt it. This one was not lost. I walked up to her with a satisfied smile on my lips and told her that the wallet was mine. After opening it up and checking the photo on my identity card which was still inside, the red wallet, albeit without the 5 euros, made its way back into my handbag.
My gut instinct had served me well today, first to pay off the cash I had and avoid losing money. Then to get my little red wallet back. On all counts it had been a successful, fun-filled day indeed.
Saturday, 24 May 2025
Friday, 23 May 2025
Ragini in Chennai- Finale - Rohan and his intelligence - Part 7
Now that she'd met Kishore a couple of times, Ragini found herself not really looking forward to him that much anymore. At the house, she enjoyed spending time with Asha and the boys and Rohan had such amazing vocabulary and knowledge despite being a young kid. Ragini found herself happy to immerse herself for the rest of her summer in family activities. Unfortunately Rama hadn't been able to meet her in the last few weeks either. Maybe Rama's family found Ragini a bit too modern. It was ok, Ragini was her own favourite person and she accepted the situation. She found herself in situations with the little Rohan that quite amazed her.
On one of the days in the week, following the day Ragini had been with Kishore to the amusement park, she was sitting and reading her novel. Rohan started talking to her while she was reading, seated at the living room dining table. He started talking about things that she couldn't really decipher, citing situations that involved other people and places. Perplexed, she asked Rohan what he was talking about. He continued to develop the story without giving her a straight answer. After having to really concentrate and shift her focus completely to what Rohan was saying, she realised that the young child was telling her the story from the book she was reading. She hadn't read the whole book and looked at the book and looked at the spectacles in front of the shiny eyes looking straight into hers. How can it be that this little boy had read this book? And understood the story? She knew that Rohan was very bright, but this was on another level. She asked him if he had read the book and when he looked away, told him that the book was not suitable for a not even six year old. That he should have asked her before picking it up to read. Ragini then remembered all the crazy questions he was capable of asking and she hugged him tight. What a gift to be so clever, she thought. They both got absorbed in some mundane chit chat after that and let the matter rest.
A day or so after this incident, Ragini came out into the front room in the evening and noticed that Rohan was talking on the landline to someone. In normal circumstances, one would think this was odd as no adult was around him. But because she knew that Rohan was so smart and in so many ways passed like a grown up on so many levels, she just settled on the couch. She was preoccupied in her thoughts about her impending travel back to Mumbai in another week and how she was going to miss this whole experience and the whole family so much. She had never stayed so long without her parents around in a relative's home and the experience had definitely made her grow up. While she was contemplating all this, suddenly Rohan said "Chitta, it's for you". She looked over at Rohan and he was pointing the receiver of the landline phone towards her, looking at her. She didn't understand. She hadn't heard the phone ring. She had heard Rohan talking, then was caught up in her thoughts and now she was looking at him pointing the receiver to her. She asked him, "Eh, for me?". He nodded, so Ragini got up and walked to the phone, still uneasy at what had happened, took the phone in her hand and nervously said "Hello" into the receiver. He heard a giggle and Kishore said, "If you wanted to talk to me, you could've just called. No need to use the kid."
Ragini was now sweating with embarrassment and felt her ears and cheeks heat up. She had a feeling that her mouth was full of saliva and dry at the same moment. She fumbled and somehow managed to say, "I will call you later" and hang up. She looked at Rohan, incredulous, eyes blinking trying to understand what had just happened. "Did he call?", "No, I called him", answered Rohan. "How did you get the phone number"? , Ragini asked, knowing perfectly well that it wasn't written anywhere. "I saw you call him once and I remembered the number", came the reply. " You can't do that Rohan", said Ragini, the second time in the week to her little cousin.
Sighing, Ragini noticed a fleeting thought of wanting to be back home pass in her head and somewhere deep inside her, she was happier than she had been fifteen minutes earlier.
Did you like this read? You can read all the earlier parts of this series here
Thursday, 22 May 2025
Life as a foreigner in Belgium - language - Well said!
Learning French early on definitely made my life easier in Brussels. I started making more local friends and being more confident using public transport and doing grocery shopping on my own. It's easier when you don't have to search for words in a language when you have a huge queue at a checkout counter behind you. You can dare ask why something was not discounted as indicated on the packaging. You can communicate faster and without drawing attention to the fact that you aren't completely fluent. Of course there is that awkward period when you can't get someone to understand you over the phone. And you hear the frustration in the voice on the other side of the line hitting you even more because you absolutely want to be understood.
I however remember this one incident that stood out to me and has remained in my memory from all those years ago. Maybe nowadays in Brussels one can get by easily in English, but back in 2003-2004, it definitely wasn't the case. Many people struggled speaking back in English to me. And luckily, I'd really worked on my French as I attended school for more than a year.
During that period, once I was coming back with my family on the tram back home. My husband was at work but I was accompanied by my dad, my elder sister and my baby. We entered the tram at the first stop and it being the morning of a weekday, the tram was absolutely empty. As my baby was quite small, I had a big pram which consisted of the baby seat and the carriage all in one. Since the seated section was far from the allotted section to park the pram, we had taken her out of the baby seat and were carrying her in our arms.
The tram hadn't started and I headed to the driver to buy tickets for all of us. Those days, one could still buy the tickets on board using cash. After buying the tickets, I don't know what provoked the aggressive tone of the tram driver. He said very rudely in French that if the baby wasn't in the pram, then we needed to fold the whole thing. I was taken aback as I'd travelled hundreds of times in Brussels by tram and not once had I seen anyone fold their pram. Also the fact that we were in an empty tram made the 'order' that he had given even more suspicious. I'd seen enough of the world to understand that this was someone trying to throw his power over someone whom he thought wouldn't stand up for herself. Maybe he thought we were all tourists, maybe he heard hesitation when I'd spoken to him in French while buying the tickets. I felt very irritated, but I kept my cool and replied in my best French possible. " I'll put the baby back in the pram as soon as there is a reason to do so or if it starts getting crowded. If someone asks for the area where the pram is parked, I'll move the pram then. There's no need now. Also, please kindly communicate with politeness".
And I went and sat down with my family who were looking at me with questioning eyes about what had just happened. As the tram moved forward, I felt relieved that there would be no follow up to the conversation, but completely justified with the way I'd reacted.
Liked what you read? You can read another one from early days in Belgium...here
Poem for my mother - written in 2014 on Mother's day
Thank you Amma,
For being mine,
Living and loving,
And giving me time.
Thank you Amma,
Even if in the past
You gave me a treasure
That's here to last.
Thank you for teaching me
How life keeps rolling,
A grounded happy childhood
With it's results still unfolding.
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Monday, 19 May 2025
Learning to be a Woman - Part 3 - Standing up for a woman double my age - trigger warning
Most women have had experiences in our lives that make us cringe or remember a moment where a man or men tried to touch or molest us. Unfortunately, even today this reality has not left our societies. Whether in rural or urban India or modern Europe, some sort of machoism exists still, either mild where it's words that try to objectify a woman or actions that horrify everyone that hear about it.
But, let me tell you, sometimes molestation happens in broad daylight and the society as a whole doesn't do much to stop it, sometimes not even the victim. I was a first-hand witness to this. I was travelling with my father and older sister by train from Pune to Mumbai. It must have been around 8am and we were all seated together on a seat that allows for four people. There was someone at the window seat, my sister was sitting next to this person, then I was sitting near her and my father was at the fourth position on the seat. There was a seat which held four people right across us. In fact the whole wagon of the train had a similar set up. The train was not very crowded and there were hardly any people standing. I remember being surprised to see that as in Mumbai trains were usually packed and it was rare to be able to see across the compartment. I'm guessing because it was a long distance train where many of the people were travelling to Mumbai for their jobs, the frequency of trains was probably high.
Anyway, there was this man who was standing across the aisle from us leaning against the seat where a middle-aged woman was seated in fourth place. Her body was positioned closest to the man. He was standing with his back towards her. His bottom at her shoulder level. This lady was at least in her forties and wearing a sari, the most traditional outfit that exists in India. She had silver strands in her hair and was what I would have considered someone's aunt or mother. I was around 20 years old, if I remember correctly.
I don't know when I noticed it, but suddenly I saw a hand on her breast. The man was casually fondling her while looking in the other direction as if the person doing the act and the one looking elsewhere were two different people. She was looking at the floor in front of her, highly embarrassed and scared as she was alone on the train. I looked around to see if anyone else had seen the same thing I'd just witnessed. Nobody seemed to have seen it. Even my father and my sister were absorbed in their own worlds. I wanted her to look at me and ask for help. I wanted to scream and create a scene with the man but I'd be taking on someone else's fight. Maybe I was too young to have the guts or the society I lived in had taught me to not get involved without the other asking for help. Worse, I was worried whether she would support me if I fought on her behalf. I didn't want to end up looking like a fool.
I decided I would have to tell my father. While I intended to turn to him, I kept looking at the lady, pleading with her through my thoughts to look at me, to ask for help, to make any sign. But she just didn't look up. Finally, I couldn't bear it anymore as the touching had not stopped and I spoke up, addressing my request to her. She realised someone was talking to her and looked up searching for my voice.
I said looking at her, "do you want to come and sit next to me?" She nodded yes and my father, realizing that something was wrong but not still quite sure what the issue was, went and took her seat next to the standing man. I gave her the seat on which I was and took the fourth seat next to her. The creep looked at me angrily and I stared blankly back at him with the silent message. "Don't you dare!". Needless to say he slipped away before we had built up a collective wrath.
As I look back at the situation some twenty years later, I can't believe that no one else in the compartment noticed what was happening. Why was I the only one who dared speak up and find some solution, any solution to help her. I'm not proud that I didn't directly react and have the guts to speak up against the man. I should immediately have brought attention to what was happening. But I could also feel from the woman's own behaviour a stance that seemed more like I just want to not be noticed. Maybe that's what made me be reflection-based rather than reaction-based. All I hope is that more people speak up about these situations and more victims feel safe to not hide due to any reason.
For a post on a similar topic read here
Learning to be a Woman Incidents 2- #metoo
Sunday, 18 May 2025
Life doesn't wait for anyone or anything
My parents were quite old when I was born. My dad was 48 and my Amma was 43. I'm pretty convinced that I was the 'impossibility' that was destined to come into this world. My mother was already quite sickly as she had suffered from asthma most of her life. She looked older than the mothers of my friends and schoolmates. But, I never lacked for attention and love from her.
She and I were a funny pair. She had a limited level of English and I had a limited level of my mother tongue, Malayalam. So, as I grew into a teenager there were several occasions where the communication was strained, especially when we didn't agree on a point. She of course saw her daughter getting more and more influenced by the modern world and I saw her warnings as severe restrictions to my freedom and fun. When we reached that level, I once declared that we suffered from a 'generation gap'. I have no idea where I found such a term but I know it made my father laugh loudly the first time I used it.
Unfortunately, when I was just 19, my mother's condition was getting worse. She did go to a doctor but she didn't like hospitals and checkups. She had convinced herself after her own mother's death in a hospital that those places were no good. So, other than the four times that she went to the hospital to give birth to her four children, she refused to set foot in there. Naturally, her difficult childhood of working in a weaving mill for sometime and surely experiencing some level of hunger may have made her system overall weaker. All I could see was that she was getting slightly less active.
But, did I really see and notice anything is what I ask? I was young. I had myself to look at in the mirror, dress up like every teenage girl, I had my preoccupations and my crazy schedules of going out every evening to boot. During this time when I was 19, my cousin who was a nurse, dropped in without warning and gave her a general check up. I'm guessing she saw some paperwork that the doctor had given my father. The only thing I remember is that she took me aside and told me that I had one more year with my mother. That she was sure that my mother would not survive the year. I remember crying listening to what she said, not too loud to not let my mother hear me crying, feeling angry because she was telling me that and feeling with fear the conviction in her voice and then looking at my mother.
My Amma didn't look any older or different from the day before or the months and years in my eyes. She had always looked tired, always slept the whole night in her lazy chair (due to having difficulty lying down) and always suffered the climb up the stairs of the three floors of the building. But, she was still ready at 5pm having changed into a sari, waiting for my father to take her out every single day. My dad also worked a side hustle and was happy for her to just tag along from house to house as he dropped in to meet his clients. She didn't mind that he was working as it gave her time out of the house. All my life she would do that and this evening too she sat there in her pink sari probably annoyed at my cousin for eating into her outside-going-time.
Shortly after my cousin left home, I stood there thinking that maybe I shouldn't go out that evening. Maybe I should talk to my father. Maybe my Amma needed me to help her with something. But before I could think much longer, my parents announced that they were leaving and would be back by 9pm as usual. I looked at the nice red and black dungarees I had worn, looked at my puffy eyes in the mirror and brushed my hair. I went out as usual to roam around in the colony with my friends.
The moment had passed and life moved on.
Liked this story, read one more on my childhood here
Thursday, 15 May 2025
Dr. Ashok Kembhavi, an unsung Hero and Senior Half Marathoner
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| Dr. Ashok Kembhavi TATA Mumbai Marathon |
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Life often brings us in touch with amazing people. People who defy what life throws at them, endure hardships and emerge victorious! Their hardships, their tough routes and their climb to achievement fill us with pride and admiration. Their stories teach us lessons, have us reflect on our privileges and maybe even question our own altruism. Can I as an individual see myself selflessly giving to others? What is it that drives this person to make their self-appointed mission a thing to do forever?
One such individual, Dr. Ashok Kembhavi, is the Hero of this blogpost. And, as you will learn, a real Hero to many, many more who are unheard and unseen. Let me tell you his story. To start with, let's try and imagine where Dr. Ashok Kembhavi was born and brought up. We close our eyes and take a bird's flight above the city of Mumbai. Nestled between the posh, up market localities of the Bandra-Kurla Complex, Mahim and Sion lies its complete antithesis. Large areas of impoverished, broken-down hutments. We have reached Dharavi - the world's largest slum settlement. For those of you who don't know Mumbai well enough to have accompanied me on our imaginary flight, do you remember the slums shown in the movie 'Slumdog Millionaire'? This is where Ashok grew up.
We can well imagine young Ashok living with his parents and siblings in a tiny home which didn't have enough room for everyone in the family to sleep indoors. Then there is the noise, the squalor, the pollution, the general cacophony of a densely populated area where residences are a thin wall across shops, auto repair garages, small scale industries. Where everything from security, health, availability of water and electricity would and could be compromised daily. Due to this space crunch, Dr. Ashok had to opt to sleep on the streets and study under the streetlights. He studied in a Kannada medium Municipal school until his 11th grade and then worked his way into one of the most prestigious Science colleges of Mumbai, Ruparel college to do his 12th grade. In India the 10th and 12th grades are very important to determine a student's trajectory in their careers. After becoming a merit lister (the crème de la crème) of the thousands of students who give this exam, he then joined the Grant Medical College, JJ Hospital and did his M.B.B.S. and D.V.D (Diploma in Dermatology and Venereology).
His education followed with a government job as a medical officer which he undertook for 20 years till 1991. But from 1978, since Dharavi and its people mattered the most to him, he also worked part time in his own clinic there. The government job meant that he was living a good life, making a decent salary and his capabilities and hard work had helped him reach what one would consider that he had bridged the large divide of classes. He had made his way into a new social, cultural and financial level of existence. Most people would have been happy there but Dr. Ashok knew that he had more to do. He figured that the government job was standing in the way of his real dream, to serve the people of Dharavi completely. So, in 1991, he gave up his job and security and started working full-time at the Clinic. The people's living conditions, the health issues and financial hardships they faced, was now not in his rear-view mirror while driving elsewhere but right there in front of him. That was a poignant moment, a coming home of sorts.
From then onwards, Dr. Ashok Kembhavi sees 150-200 patients every day. Most of his patients can't afford to pay him the minimum fee. This used to be as low are Rs.10 earlier and these days it's Rs.20- Rs.50. They get treated nevertheless. He has a full day practice where he gets to work at 9am and doesn't get back to his home in Powai earlier than 10pm. His generosity doesn't end here. As he has grown up in Dharavi and knows firsthand that education is the way to opportunities that lead out of poverty, he has plunged himself in taking up educating the children of Dharavi when he can. These selected kids are usually children of his patients. His help could mean paying part or all of their fees, helping with buying college books, school uniforms etc. Dr Ashok also sometimes goes to the colleges around Dharavi and Bandra and requests the principals to reduce the fees for these students. Today, there are some Doctors, Nurses, Engineers, Graduates and a Lawyer amongst those he helped. He is happily doing all this on his own.
By now, as you can imagine, I'm gobsmacked by this person who is talking to me on a WhatsApp call. I nearly forget that I heard about him because he is a runner. That was supposed to be the focus of this piece, so I start to probe in that direction. That fitness journey began because he was starting to feel breathless around the age of 52. He noticed some rise in his blood pressure and decided to increase his physical activities to be able to go on without any medicines. It was just about the end of 2002 and he decided to do the Standard Chartered Mumbai Marathon in January 2003. He started practicing for that race and ran the 7kms 'Fun Run'. That felt more like a 'Fun Walk' for Dr. Kembhavi. He decided to do the 21kms the following year. Which he then completed every year from 2004 to 2020. His other runs include the Delhi Marathon (21kms) which he did for 3 years, the Powai Hiranandani 21kms and the Thane Hiranandani 21kms. From 2008 till date, Ashok also participates in the Bengaluru T.C.S 10kms every year. It was only from 2020 that he decided to stick to 10kms runs. He still walks, runs regularly and cycles, waking up at 5am to keep himself fit for the long days ahead. Some photos of Dr. Ashok participating in different marathons over the years and support coming in from friends and family. 
      When I further discussed with him about his projects and if he is out there on social media, the answer is no. He admits that he isn't a tech-savvy person and only recently he switched from the press-button Nokia mobile phone to a smartphone. You get by that the man isn't someone doing anything to be seen or for fame. He doesn't consider what he is doing as charity. It's his mission, his duty. His future project is founded on the sturdy base of love and security that his parents gave him in his childhood. Driven to the city of Mumbai due to drought and hoping for a better life, Mr. Ramchandra and Mrs. Basamma, his parents, travelled from Bijapur like several thousands of migrants do even today. Mr. Ramchandra managed to find a menial job in the Indian Railways, as a welder. He welded engine wheels for 33 years and thus managed to educate and tend to the needs of his family. While this gave him some pocket money, very little of his father's salary went into his own education. Thanks to his great scores throughout his studies, Dr. Ashok obtained several fee waivers. Since money was tight, his father used to bring him homemade meals made with love by his mother during lunch breaks. So, funds were few but love was aplenty. Inspired by these memories, Dr. Ashok would like to use his ancestral home in Dharavi as a 'Reading Room'. Even if very small, this will be a space that will serve as a haven of peace for aspiring students. A room where any child can walk in and study in a quiet environment. This 'Kembhavi Reading Room' would be dedicated to his parents. This 74-year-old humble, generous and discreet man deserves so much respect. I nudge him and his supportive wife Mrs. Malathi Kembhavi to share their email at least because it is only fair that anyone who desires to assist in the cause, should have a means to reach them. They've done well and so much on their own over the years and ask that they be contacted if the intention is to help educate the children of Dharavi or to contribute to the betterment of its people. There's always a need for educating students in a place like Dharavi, because the percentage of drop outs due to non-payment of fees or the challenges of being one of the first generation of learners in a family is huge. Dr. Ashok and Mrs. Malathi can be contacted on malathikembhavi@gmail.com
I trust that this beautiful story will have disconnected you, my lovely readers, from your daily lives for long enough to take it all in and inspire you in some way. From Dharavi to Dharavi, from living there, to giving there.... Liked what you read Similar posts here https://lekhawrites.blogspot.com/2025/04/retirement-reset-reinvent-rebirth.html and here https://lekhawrites.blogspot.com/2025/04/inspirational-senior-mr-surendra.html and here https://lekhawrites.blogspot.com/2025/05/the-go-getter-mr-ramachandran.html |
Ragini and Kishore in an amusement park in Chennai - Part 6
Kishore had been trying over the next few days to ask Ragini to go out with him again. It wasn't easy as he wasn't very confident over the phone and Ragini didn't find it comfortable to talk to him for long standing in the front room of her cousin's house. He finally suggested something that seemed like fun - going to an amusement park. Now, Ragini was interested. He said he had a motorbike and would take her and get her back safely. Ragini told him to meet her cousin the morning of their outing when he came to pick her up. He agreed.
On the day they had chosen, Kishore reached Asha's home and he rang the doorbell. Asha joined Ragini who had opened the door. They exchanged a few polite sentences and Kishore reassured Asha that he would get Ragini home by 4pm. He gave Asha his landline number and address just in case. Asha asked him if he would like to have some breakfast to wish Kishore refused.
During those exchanges, Ragini watched a sleepy Rohan watching the scene from the bedroom door. He was a timid boy, so he didn't come and stand next to them. Ragini smiled at Rohan and waved a goodbye to him as she left the house. She felt that she should have taken him too to the Amusement park, but knew that Asha would probably not allow that. Feeling a bit sad Ragini climbed on Kishore's bike and they rode towards the main road.
Once at the amusement park, Kishore and Ragini got a chance to talk a bit while walking from the parking lot to the park's ticket counter. Kishore smiled at Ragini and told her that he was very excited to spend the day out with her. He asked her if she had eaten a breakfast. Ragini acknowledged that she had indeed eaten a breakfast and that in fact, she had eaten a very heavy breakfast of 4 idlis (steamed rice cakes) and spicy coconut chutney. To this Kishore laughed at her and said that he was sure that had been a colossal mistake. According to Kishore, getting onto any amusement park ride on a full stomach was a sure shot way to throw up. Amused at the thought, Kishore giggled as he and Ragini made their way to the first ride.
Ragini on the other hand had no pre-conceived notions about sitting on an amusement park ride. She found it really exciting and since they were lucky to be at the park when it was relatively empty, she chose the first seat on the roller coaster. As she made her way to the seat, she saw Kishore's eyes darting nervously. He quickly hid his fear and followed her and they both sat next to each other. Kishore on one side, hungry and sweaty and Ragini on the other, well fed and sweaty too. The ride was quite a crazy one, with sharp turns, ups and downs which felt very scary and like one would fly out at any instant. This ride was the most popular among all the others in the park and it looked like the creators of the ride had really pulled out all the stops to impress. At the end of the ride, Ragini was on a huge high. She looked over to Kishore with a huge wide grin. However, Kishore looked really squirmish and not as confident as at the start.
Soon after, Ragini was riding most of the rides alone and Kishore was waiting for her to start feeling sick like he had predicted. Ragini rode each ride laughing at the irony of the situation as she felt great.
Read all previous episodes of this story here
Part 5 https://lekhawrites.blogspot.com/2025/04/ragini-in-chennai-part-5-meeting-kishore.html
Part 4 https://lekhawrites.blogspot.com/2025/04/ragini-in-chennai-part-4.html
Part 3 https://lekhawrites.blogspot.com/2025/04/ragini-meets-rama-in-chennai-part-3-of.html