TRUE GRIT A farmer's daughter, Sapkal was kicked out of her marital home at age 24, nine months pregnant. In a few months, she had found her mission: offering love, shelter and succour to orphans of all ages. She now runs four homes and was the subject of a recent award-winning documentary My family are those I adopt and those who support me. I think I will have to adopt the government next... they are yet to support me.
S I N D H U TA I S A P K A L , 6 2
In a hall lit by a glittering chandeier and carpeted with hand-woven rugs, Sindhutai Sapkal, 62, stands in her crumpled cotton sari. out in her crumpled cotton sari.She wears no jewellery, only a large black bindi and a warm smile.
Small, self-effacing, with a weathered face, she has travelled from Pune to the Indian Merchants' Chamber headquarters at Churchgate to accept the award for woman of the year from the IMC Ladies' Wing.
“Life is its own reward," she says, in colloquial Marathi, thanking the panel as she is handed the trophy and citation.
A farmer's daughter from Wardha, Sapkal was abandoned by her husband at age 24, when she was nine months pregnant. Over the intervening years, she went from beggar to fund-raiser to manager of four orphanages and beloved Mai to more than 1,000 orphans.
Along the way, Sapkal gave up her daughter so as to remain impartial to her other children, forgave and nursed her husband on his deathbed, then reconciled with her child after 20 years.
It is this remarkable journey that draws people to her everywhere she goes. At the IMC, the glittering socialites and industrialists' wives in the audience hurry forward to touch her feet and pose for photographs with her.
The following morning, as Sapkal steps out of her taxi in the middle-class Maharashtrian area of Shivaji Park, Dadar, for lunch, passersby stop to greet her and touch her feet; restaurant managers escort her through waiting crowds.
Some congratulate her on the success of Mee Sindhutai Sapkal, a film based on her life that won four National Awards this year. Others want to know how her children are doing.
To anyone who offers to help, her response is the same: Give what you can so I can continue my work.
Sapkal's orphanages all run on private donations -her one smiling complaint about her life is that the government has not stepped forward to help.
The journey to that decision began in 1958, when Sapkal was married at age nine to a man 20 years older.
“At age 12, I was sent to my in-laws' home, where I was beaten, mistreated and overworked," Sapkal says, speaking with a calm, smiling simplicity.
“Then, at age 24, after a domestic dispute, I was thrown out of their home."
Sapkal, nine months pregnant, delivered her daughter in a cowshed soon after, cutting the umbilical chord with a sharpened stone. “To support us, I sang and begged on trains," she says. “I tried to commit suicide thrice, but now I know there was a reason why I survived."
Sapkal's adoption efforts began when she was still destitute and her baby still an infant. “I would see urchins living on railway platforms and try to take care of them," she says. “We would share what food and shelter I could find."
Then, six months after her daughter was born, she made her toughest -and some say most brutal -decision. “I left my daughter at a social welfare trust in Pune," she says, her brow furrowing. “I wanted to be sure I would never discriminate against another child because I loved my own more."
For the next 13 years, Sapkal cared for street children and urchins with what funds she could raise from her singing and begging and with donations she solicited through powerful speeches -Sapkal is a Class 5 dropout but loves poetry and has a natural oratorical skill.
In 1986, she finally registered her first orphanage, in Amravati.
As her movement grew, word spread and donations began coming from temples, trusts and well wishers.
Then, nearly two decades after her first orphanage was opened, Sapkal got word that her husband, then 75, was ailing and alone. “He was an old man and an orphan. I had to help him," she says. “I told him, I cannot be your wife but I can look after you as my child."
Ask about forgiveness and Sapkal says she actually attributes her success to her husband. “By deserting me, he gave me a chance to do noble deeds," she says.
But through the years of noble deeds, Sapkal worried constantly that her daughter would grow to hate her. “I worried that she would never understand why I had left her," says Sapkal, her brow furrowed again. “But now she is with me again and I believe I did the right thing."
Last year, Sapkal was invited to speak at a Marathi literary event in San Francisco. It was news coverage of this trip that brought her to the attention of filmmaker Anant Mahadevan.
“I read a headline that said `I have 157 sons-in-law' and it made me sit up,"Mahadevan. “We were destined to meet. She feels that the film has done her good and I feel the same. It made me a better filmmaker."
The film travelled to several international film festivals this year. “It has helped spread the word about my mission," says Sapkal, with a bright smile.
“People now come to me, offering to help. It has made my movement famous."
NAMED WOMAN OF THE YEAR THIS MONTH BY THE IMC LADIES' WING Sindhutai Sapkal at a meet-the-press event held in a conference room at the IMC building in Churchgate earlier this month. Sapkal was in Mumbai to receive the IMC Ladies' Wing Woman of the Year award.
Source: Hindustan Times
S I N D H U TA I S A P K A L , 6 2
In a hall lit by a glittering chandeier and carpeted with hand-woven rugs, Sindhutai Sapkal, 62, stands in her crumpled cotton sari. out in her crumpled cotton sari.She wears no jewellery, only a large black bindi and a warm smile.
Small, self-effacing, with a weathered face, she has travelled from Pune to the Indian Merchants' Chamber headquarters at Churchgate to accept the award for woman of the year from the IMC Ladies' Wing.
“Life is its own reward," she says, in colloquial Marathi, thanking the panel as she is handed the trophy and citation.
A farmer's daughter from Wardha, Sapkal was abandoned by her husband at age 24, when she was nine months pregnant. Over the intervening years, she went from beggar to fund-raiser to manager of four orphanages and beloved Mai to more than 1,000 orphans.
Along the way, Sapkal gave up her daughter so as to remain impartial to her other children, forgave and nursed her husband on his deathbed, then reconciled with her child after 20 years.
It is this remarkable journey that draws people to her everywhere she goes. At the IMC, the glittering socialites and industrialists' wives in the audience hurry forward to touch her feet and pose for photographs with her.
The following morning, as Sapkal steps out of her taxi in the middle-class Maharashtrian area of Shivaji Park, Dadar, for lunch, passersby stop to greet her and touch her feet; restaurant managers escort her through waiting crowds.
Some congratulate her on the success of Mee Sindhutai Sapkal, a film based on her life that won four National Awards this year. Others want to know how her children are doing.
To anyone who offers to help, her response is the same: Give what you can so I can continue my work.
Sapkal's orphanages all run on private donations -her one smiling complaint about her life is that the government has not stepped forward to help.
“Whenever I am invited to speak, I end my address with a plea for donations," she says, smiling. “Bhashan nahin toh ration nahin (Without speeches, there will be no groceries)."
And no groceries is not an option. “I decided early on that I would be a mother to any orphan," says Sapkal, “whether a child of a few days, a destitute woman or an old person."The journey to that decision began in 1958, when Sapkal was married at age nine to a man 20 years older.
“At age 12, I was sent to my in-laws' home, where I was beaten, mistreated and overworked," Sapkal says, speaking with a calm, smiling simplicity.
“Then, at age 24, after a domestic dispute, I was thrown out of their home."
Sapkal, nine months pregnant, delivered her daughter in a cowshed soon after, cutting the umbilical chord with a sharpened stone. “To support us, I sang and begged on trains," she says. “I tried to commit suicide thrice, but now I know there was a reason why I survived."
Sapkal's adoption efforts began when she was still destitute and her baby still an infant. “I would see urchins living on railway platforms and try to take care of them," she says. “We would share what food and shelter I could find."
Then, six months after her daughter was born, she made her toughest -and some say most brutal -decision. “I left my daughter at a social welfare trust in Pune," she says, her brow furrowing. “I wanted to be sure I would never discriminate against another child because I loved my own more."
For the next 13 years, Sapkal cared for street children and urchins with what funds she could raise from her singing and begging and with donations she solicited through powerful speeches -Sapkal is a Class 5 dropout but loves poetry and has a natural oratorical skill.
In 1986, she finally registered her first orphanage, in Amravati.
As her movement grew, word spread and donations began coming from temples, trusts and well wishers.
Then, nearly two decades after her first orphanage was opened, Sapkal got word that her husband, then 75, was ailing and alone. “He was an old man and an orphan. I had to help him," she says. “I told him, I cannot be your wife but I can look after you as my child."
Ask about forgiveness and Sapkal says she actually attributes her success to her husband. “By deserting me, he gave me a chance to do noble deeds," she says.
But through the years of noble deeds, Sapkal worried constantly that her daughter would grow to hate her. “I worried that she would never understand why I had left her," says Sapkal, her brow furrowed again. “But now she is with me again and I believe I did the right thing."
Last year, Sapkal was invited to speak at a Marathi literary event in San Francisco. It was news coverage of this trip that brought her to the attention of filmmaker Anant Mahadevan.
“I read a headline that said `I have 157 sons-in-law' and it made me sit up,"Mahadevan. “We were destined to meet. She feels that the film has done her good and I feel the same. It made me a better filmmaker."
The film travelled to several international film festivals this year. “It has helped spread the word about my mission," says Sapkal, with a bright smile.
“People now come to me, offering to help. It has made my movement famous."
NAMED WOMAN OF THE YEAR THIS MONTH BY THE IMC LADIES' WING Sindhutai Sapkal at a meet-the-press event held in a conference room at the IMC building in Churchgate earlier this month. Sapkal was in Mumbai to receive the IMC Ladies' Wing Woman of the Year award.
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