Jul 28, 2024 10:59 PM IST
Sam may be gone, but he will be remembered by the thousands of families whose lives his efforts changed. Do people like Sam ever really die?
Educationist and activist Virendra Singh, more popular as Virendra Sam or Uncle Sam, passed away last Tuesday at his daughter’s house in the United States (US). His mortal remains were brought back to his village in Bulandshahr, and his last rites were performed there in keeping with his wishes. Sam adored his birthplace and had left everything in the US to return to his village, Bichola. His tale is interesting and inspirational. I had the pleasure of spending a delightful evening and a rejuvenating morning with him almost ten years ago.
That evening, Sam shared his love of hockey, which he had played since childhood, and which had transformed his life. His team was once playing against the Aligarh Muslim University team, when the vice-chancellor of Punjab University noticed Sam, then known by his given name Virendra Singh. The vice-chancellor told Sam he could get him admission into the engineering college at Bhiwani if he played for Punjab University. Sam accepted the offer. He soon got an opportunity to play a hockey match in Manchester.
The professional approach of the West he noticed during that match, left an indelible impression on Sam. After finishing his engineering degree, he worked for a period at DCM, after which he got admission to the University of Minnesota in the US, where he earned a master’s degree in textile engineering. This set off the transformation of Virendra Singh, the rustic youth from Bulandshahr, into “Sam”.
The transformational era of the 1960s needed spirited youths like Sam to take it forward. Sam eventually started working at Du Pont. Married by then, his wife and he welcomed two daughters into their lives. By this time, the family had blended in with the American society. Sam was always full of energy and vigour, instilled in him by hockey. In no time, he rose through the ranks to head operations for all of Asia and eventually to the company’s chairmanship. Few Indians in the corporate sector attained such prominence in the Cold War era. It was amid such success in the US, in 2000, that Sam decided to return to his village. The decision took his family, coworkers, and even people in his village by surprise. The question all had was: Why?
Sam had succeeded in life, but a worry nagged him. Often during company board meetings, the CEO would draw attention to tragedies in India, such as a boat capsize somewhere, a train derailment, or a stampede, and everyone at the meetings would observe silence as a mark of respect to the victims. The frequency of such instances disturbed Sam and he increasingly yearned to see change. One day he decided if someone had to take the initiative, it was I. Sam quit his job, moved to his village, and started the Pardada-Pardadi Educational Society.
There is an old saying, “Havan karte haath jale”, which roughly translates as facing ill consequences for trying to do good. His initiative had teething troubles in getting students to his institution. A common response he got from parents when he tried to get girl children in particular to be educated was, “Babuji, I need to marry off my daughter. I will not teach her so much that she becomes a collector.” But his hockey experience had taught Sam patience, which he used to great advantage. In the first year, his school got only 45 girls to enrol. Today, about 4,000 girls study there. Each girl gets free uniform, three meals a day, books and transportation. Additionally, ₹10 is transferred into their accounts every day. These girls are promised employment and get training according to their interests.
This organisation has helped thousands of girls in Anupshahr and nearby areas to become self-reliant over the past 24 years. The organisation includes more than 7,000 women who are learning how to produce incense sticks, pickles, and sanitary pads. Earnings from the sale of these products go into their accounts. That evening, Sam led us to Anupshahr, where his society runs a drinking water ATM on the banks of the Ganga.
Dozens were getting water for twenty-five paise per litre. When I asked why he charged for drinking water, Sam explained, “Freebies are not respected anywhere in the world. I offer water worth ten rupees for twenty-five paise, not to make a profit, but to guarantee that people value and conserve it.” This practical approach to conservation seemed novel to me. Sam may be gone, but he will be remembered by the thousands of families whose lives his efforts changed. Do people like Sam ever really die?
Shashi Shekhar is editor-in-chief, Hindustan. The views expressed are personal
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