A Gandhian turns old clothes into dignity for the needy through ‘Gandhiji Bank'
Every Sunday, his residence hums with the energy of a tribal market, but instead of goods for sale, it's compassion on display. Donors stream in from Madhira and neighbouring areas, carrying bundles of used clothes. Some drop them off; others simply call, and Kondayya, along with volunteers, collects them.
These clothes are then distributed to the poor, the sick, and beggars who arrive at his doorstep. For the elderly, widows and the disabled, he personally delivers the clothes to their homes. Kondayya, a government health supervisor by profession, devotes his holidays and free time to this cause.
Speaking to TNIE, Kondayya, popularly known as Asha Mitra, says, 'I once came across a child who didn't have any clothes. I felt terrible and immediately offered to bring him some from my home. But what he said stayed with me: 'You will help me, but what about the others? How will they manage?' After that, I started noticing patterns. During my work-related travels, I saw thousands of people without food or clothing. I couldn't unsee it. That's when I decided to do something. I tried to inculcate the values and teachings of a great man like Mahatma Gandhi in my mission.'
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New Indian Express
9 hours ago
- New Indian Express
A Gandhian turns old clothes into dignity for the needy through ‘Gandhiji Bank'
KHAMMAM: What happens to clothes that no longer spark joy or fit into our lives? While some trade them for steel utensils, in Madhira, they become sacred offerings. Guided by the belief that serving humanity is serving God, Lanka Kondayya, a Gandhian in action, has transformed his home on Azad Road into the soul of the Mahatma Gandhi Free Old Clothes Centre, also known as the 'Gandhiji Bank'. Every Sunday, his residence hums with the energy of a tribal market, but instead of goods for sale, it's compassion on display. Donors stream in from Madhira and neighbouring areas, carrying bundles of used clothes. Some drop them off; others simply call, and Kondayya, along with volunteers, collects them. These clothes are then distributed to the poor, the sick, and beggars who arrive at his doorstep. For the elderly, widows and the disabled, he personally delivers the clothes to their homes. Kondayya, a government health supervisor by profession, devotes his holidays and free time to this cause. Speaking to TNIE, Kondayya, popularly known as Asha Mitra, says, 'I once came across a child who didn't have any clothes. I felt terrible and immediately offered to bring him some from my home. But what he said stayed with me: 'You will help me, but what about the others? How will they manage?' After that, I started noticing patterns. During my work-related travels, I saw thousands of people without food or clothing. I couldn't unsee it. That's when I decided to do something. I tried to inculcate the values and teachings of a great man like Mahatma Gandhi in my mission.'
The Print
12 hours ago
- The Print
Why do women reject men so brutally? It's kinder than breadcrumbing
Nobody approaches anyone at clubs or parties. Gen Z prefers being ghosted on dating apps to the sting of a real-life 'no'. Some of us share the crests and troughs of our lives with strangers on not less than two to three apps, only to be unmatched mid-trauma dump—because they found someone hotter in the queue. Then there are the masochists who get into situationships. They get rejected by the same person every day. Now, that is commitment. Just ask anyone who's hit their daily 'like' limit on Hinge, only to be met with silence—five swipes, zero matches, and a bruised ego. For instant healing, you aggressively swipe left on everyone who liked you. But don't quote me on that, I will deny everything. Romantic rejection is a rite of passage, and everyone's either a victim or a villain. Online dating was designed to dodge it at all costs. But—surprise, surprise—it only gave rejection a software update. The new-age dating scene thrives on polite confusion. The painful clarity of 'I don't like you' is replaced with the more gutting 'I don't like you… enough'. There's always one person in a casual relationship burning the midnight oil for a boyfriend or girlfriend title, only to be slapped with a friend-with-benefits role, or a weekend hookup appointment. It's rejection in layers, or you can call it death by a thousand paper cuts. Grieving online Cultural critics blame the dating apps for the growing fear of rejection among Gen Z and for relationships that feel like an elaborate humiliation ritual. Content creators and dating experts on Instagram post carousels on how to rise above rejection. It's not you, it's them—that's the basic TED talk. Daters are advised to take it as a blessing, a redirection to better things. Because there are now a million ways someone can reject you, the online good Samaritans are also helping people read hidden signs in vague text messages and silent body language. Psychologists, on the other hand, are diagnosing people with rejection sensitivity dysphoria—a condition where rejections feel catastrophic. In simple therapy speak, the only treatment is 'healing your inner child'. The Jesus fanbase is spreading its own propaganda: 'So what he doesn't want you? God loves you.' To fact-check this claim, you must reach out to the press office in heaven. On the unhinged side—aka the interesting one—the discourse takes a juicier turn. The advice you get there sounds petty, but it works like a charm. Reject them before they reject you. Switch off the blue tick on WhatsApp, so you never know at what point you were ghosted. Always go for people uglier than you, so there's less risk of disappointment. 'People who are both job hunting and swiping on dating apps are burning the stick of dynamite at both ends,' read one tweet. Someone replied: 'I've been thinking about and then deciding not to even try to redownload a dating app every few days while I've been job hunting because I can only handle so much rejection at once.' Trust us to not suffer quietly through the pangs of unrequited love. We grieve online—via cryptic captions, sad girl playlists, and 20-minute voicenotes to our besties. Some of us even descend into the digital underworld of subtweets and AITA threads to roast our former flings. 'I gave the ugly guy a chance and he had the gall to block me,' one post read. It's still healthier than how some people handle rejection. Also read: Romance has the urgency of breaking news now. Dating apps are editorial fodder Danger: Rejections ahead While nobody takes rejection well, newspaper headlines reveal that it turns men into murderers, stalkers, and rapists. A 27-year-old chartered accountant said she blames her 'strict landlord' every time she wants to tell a man she can't bring him home after a lousy first date. This is not to rob women of their own predatory, pushy streak. Convinced of their fairy-like qualities, some of them can't digest that a man can reject them. Raanjhanaa's Kundan looks like a noob chaser compared to them. A Delhi-based man snubbed his one-night stand at least 20 times, and yet she wouldn't give up hounding him online and offline. She'd crash every party thrown by their mutual friends, just to grill him about why he won't return her calls. Worried about being bad-mouthed, the man caved and went on one more date with her. She didn't have fun that day, so she told him to never text her again. Love may be dead, but audacity lives on. Men also frequently call out women for being brutal in the way they reject them. The memes start with 'Worst she can say is no' and end with a punchline that would scar a person for life. In a viral text exchange doing rounds on social media, a guy asks a girl to clarify if he's her lover, sidepiece, friend, etc. She replies, 'Etc.' Who would survive this? In our defence, women say it's better to destroy someone in one blow than keep them hanging for months. 'I refuse to act like men who give breadcrumbs of affection for months till the other person takes the hint,' said a serial rejecter working in finance. The delivery is savage, but the intention is often mercy. Rejection has wrecked some people to the point that they've taken the involuntary celibacy route. Thanks to desi matrimony, not everyone will die single. Our parents are more than happy to take over the burden—and get rejected on our behalf. You can't pay me enough to take that route. I've spent enough on therapy to know I'm not everyone's cup of tea—and that's fine. This article is part of a series of columns on modern dating in India—the good, the bad and the cuddly. Views are personal. The author tweets @ratanpriya4. (Edited by Prasanna Bachchhav)
Hans India
14 hours ago
- Hans India
My home is empty, no one left to play: Mother
Jhalawar: Justdays ago, the cheerful laughter of two siblings echoed through the courtyard of a modest house in Rajasthan's Jhalawar. Today, a deafening silence prevails as the children were among the seven who died in the school building collapse on Friday. Weeping inconsolably, the mother of the duo -- a boy and a girl -- wished God had taken her instead and spared her children. 'I've lost everything... I had only two children, a boy and a girl, and both are gone. My home is empty... There's no one left to play in the courtyard. I wish God had taken me instead and spared my children,' she said. Among the many stories of sorrow, perhaps hers stands out as especially heart-rending, even as the tragedy has plunged several families into mourning. On Saturday morning, wails of grieving mothers pierced the air outside the mortuary of the SRG Hospital here as the bodies of the seven children were handed over to their families. Some of them clung tightly to the wrapped bodies of their children, refusing to let go, while others sat in stunned silence, struggling to come to terms with the sudden and shattering loss. Shortly afterwards, five of the children were cremated together on the same funeral pyre while the other two were consigned to flames separately. Another woman, who lost her child in the incident, raised questions on the role of the teachers present in the school at the time of the incident. 'The teachers went outside, leaving the children behind. What were they doing outside?' she charged. The tragic collapse has raised serious questions about the condition of rural school infrastructure in Rajasthan and the systemic neglect that turned a place of learning into a site of mourning. The youngest of those who died was only six years old. Those killed were identified as Payal (12), Harish (8), Priyanka (12), Kundan (12), Kartik, as well as a brother and sister -- Meena (12) and her brother Kanha (6). Five of the school staffers were suspended, and a high-level inquiry into the matter was ordered. The School Education Minister has announced compensation of Rs 10 lakh to those families who lost their children. Jhalawar District Collector Ajay Singh met the grieving families on Saturday to console them. Later, talking to reporters, he said appropriate action will be taken against those guilty. 'Five school staffers have been suspended, and a probe committee has been constituted. If needed, an FIR will be registered. If suspension has to turn to expulsion, that will be done,' Singh told reporters. He said all possible help and support is being given to the aggrieved families, and the school education minister has announced that a new building will be constructed in the village. He said maximum financial assistance will be given to each family in the next 10 days. Reacting to a video of road patch work being done outside a hospital in Jhalawar ahead of the school education minister's visit to meet the injured, the district collector said, 'I am unaware of it... I will take an update'. On the repair work of the school building, Singh said, 'There are clear-cut directions for it. The district administration is making efforts to ensure that the incident does not occur again. District education officials have been directed to not let students enter schools if the condition of the building is not good.' He said it was unfortunate that no input was received from the school staff regarding the condition of the building. 'If we had received any complaint, we would have got the building repaired and the incident could have been averted,' he said. On Friday morning, the children, all students of Classes 6 and 7 at Piplod Government School, had barely assembled for the morning prayer when a portion of the building collapsed, burying over 35 children under debris. 28 were injured. Slabs of concrete, bricks and stones were piled up high, and scores of people, including frantic parents and teachers, helped in the rescue effort, searching through the mounds of debris to pull out the children. After the incident, anger and sorrow spilt onto the streets as locals blocked roads at Guradi Circle and outside SRG Hospital, demanding accountability. The protest, joined briefly by Congress leader Naresh Meena, led to his detention by police. Protesters at Guradi Circle turned aggressive when police reached the spot to clear the roadblock and started pelting stones at the police, injuring a policeman. The police used mild force to disperse the agitators
