Blinded as a Baby, This Man Helped 35000 Disabled Indians Build Careers & Lead Independent Lives

In September of 1970, in a small village in Belgaum, Karnataka, a baby boy arrived as the first child of a new generation. His birth was met with celebration. Neighbours gathered, sweets were shared, and the household brimmed with joy.

But six months later, a sudden illness struck.

Typhoid came on strong. Though he recovered, the damage to his optic nerves was irreversible. From that point on, Mahantesh G Kivadasannavar would live without sight.

The news brought heartbreak. His family didn’t mourn his existence. They mourned the world he would now have to navigate. In a town with no accessible schools, no trained teachers, and no one to guide them, they had little to fall back on.

But they made a firm decision. Mahantesh would not be treated differently. His life would be full of participation, affection, and belonging. He would learn to live in his own way.

Years later, that same boy would go on to transform thousands of lives across India. As the founder of ‘Samarthanam Trust for the Disabled’ and the man who shaped India’s blind cricket revolution, Mahantesh built systems that gave others what he had to fight for on his own — opportunity, education, and respect.

Inclusion began on the playground

Mahantesh’s family never saw his blindness as a limitation. He grew up playing with cousins who altered games so he could take part. He joined every conversation, every festival, every evening gathering under the stars. At home, inclusion wasn’t a philosophy. It was simply a way of life.

“My parents never overprotected me, and they never neglected me,” he says. “They treated me like they treated everyone else.”

Outside the home, it was a different story. The local school refused to admit him. Teachers said they lacked the resources. So his parents did the only thing they could — they asked if he could at least sit in the classroom.

“I was never officially enrolled. They never called my name during attendance. I just followed whichever class my neighbours were in and sat quietly at the back,” he recalls.

Despite the isolation, his curiosity thrived. What captured his imagination wasn’t textbooks, but something else entirely — cricket. Specifically, the booming voices of radio commentators calling live matches.

“I didn’t understand the language, but the rhythm fascinated me,” Mahantesh says. “I started imitating them at home, and that helped me pick up English.”

This early love for sport, sound, and rhythm would later shape not just his future, but that of thousands of others too.

The teacher who changed everything

In 1981, an unexpected visitor set his life on a new path.

A school inspector happened to visit the classroom where Mahantesh was sitting and noticed him solving a maths problem with ease. When he learnt that he wasn’t officially enrolled, he was stunned. That day, he went straight to Mahantesh’s home. His message was clear: this child needed more than goodwill. He needed a school that could truly support him.

Soon after, Mahantesh was enrolled at the Ramana Maharshi Academy for the Blind in Bengaluru. It was the first time he saw an environment built for children like him. “There, blindness was never treated as a problem,” he says. “Everything was made accessible — from books to sports to music.”

Mahantesh poured himself into learning. He finished ten years of schooling in just six, encouraged by his father’s unwavering belief that he would only get the “first rank”.

He explored drama, music, and cricket. He excelled academically. And in 1986, he got the chance to travel to the United Kingdom as part of an educational exchange programme.

That trip changed his understanding of what life could look like for someone like him. “For the first time, I saw blind people working as lawyers, professors, and IT professionals,” he says. “That experience changed something in me. I wanted to bring those possibilities back home.”

Learning to belong, again and again

When Mahantesh transitioned to a mainstream college, the shift wasn’t easy.

He joined National College in Bengaluru — a space far removed from the accessible environment he had known. There were no ramps, no assistive tools, no one who had been taught how to support a blind student. His Braille notes made noise in silent classrooms. His peers hesitated to speak to him. He often felt like he didn’t belong.

But he stayed.

With time and effort, Mahantesh began to find his footing. A few teachers noticed his persistence and stepped in to help. Some classmates learnt how to walk alongside him, offer help without pity, and simply treat him as an equal. Slowly, the unfamiliar started to feel manageable.

His determination didn’t go unnoticed. He went on to complete a master’s and an MPhil in English from Bangalore University — milestones that carried both academic and personal weight. Later, he was invited to teach at the University of North Carolina, where he spent five years as a faculty member.

“We had no technology back then. I had to work 100 miles harder than my sighted peers,” he says, laughing. “But I never complained. I accepted what I had and believed in what I could do.”

Turning barriers into blueprints

By 1997, Mahantesh had a clear goal. He wanted to close the wide gaps in education and employment for people with disabilities. Waiting for the system to evolve wasn’t an option. He decided to create something from scratch.

That year, he co-founded the Samarthanam Trust for the Disabled.

What began as a modest effort has since become one of India’s largest inclusion-focused organisations. “We always believed education was the key,” he says. “Higher education brings opportunity. And opportunity brings dignity.”

Samarthanam now supports over 22,000 students through inclusive and special schools. It has trained more than 55,000 individuals with disabilities, and placed over 35,000 people in jobs through its Livelihood Resource Centre, which offers free accommodation, training, and placement services.

Sustaining work at this scale takes more than commitment. Samarthanam relies on a mix of donations, institutional grants, and corporate partnerships. The organisation is affiliated with national and global networks such as United Way, Give India, Give2Asia, and has received CSR support from corporates to build accessible infrastructure.

Samarthanam also runs schools for children with intellectual challenges, based on the understanding that true inclusion means adapting to different needs, not fitting everyone into one mould. “We don’t ask companies to hire people because they’re disabled,” Mahantesh explains. “We ask them to hire them because they’re capable.”

The organisation has partnered with 900 colleges and 100 universities across India. Through these networks, Samarthanam provides assistive tools like screen readers, laptops, and smartphones — helping students gain access to tech, skills, and opportunities once out of reach.

Mahantesh places special focus on women from marginalised backgrounds. “Imagine the life of a disabled girl from a remote village. Her barriers aren’t doubled — they’re multiplied,” he says. Many such women have gone on to become the first income-earners in their families.

The trust also runs ‘Sunadha’, a performing arts group that showcases the talents of persons with disabilities through music and dance.

Today, Mahantesh and his team are working to build something even bigger — an inclusive global university and an accessible sports city in Bengaluru, both designed to support people with disabilities in building independent, meaningful lives.

Scoring for a future in blind cricket

The love for cricket that began with a radio broadcast never left Mahantesh.

In 1990, he began playing competitive blind cricket. By 1994, he was captaining his team. As the years went on, he moved from player to organiser — but his vision for the sport only grew clearer.

In 2010, when the organisation managing blind cricket in India was on the verge of shutting down, Mahantesh and a friend stepped in. They rebuilt it from the ground up.

Since then, India’s blind cricket movement has rewritten sports history.

Under his leadership, the Indian blind cricket team has won three T20 World Cups, two ODI World Cups, and an Asia Cup. Today, over 30,000 players, including women, compete through state-level associations across the country.

“Cricket isn’t just a sport for us,” Mahantesh says. “It’s a medium of self-expression, a source of pride, and a path to empowerment.”

Many players have gone on to earn government jobs, cash awards, and national honours — including the Arjuna Award, and invitations to meet the President and Prime Minister.

One of them is Deepika, a college student who lost her sight when she was five months old.

“I still remember my first match clearly. I was nervous and unsure of how I would perform,” she says. “But as soon as the game began, something clicked inside me. The sound of the ball, the coordination with my teammates, and the energy on the field made me feel alive and confident. That day, I realised cricket was going to be a big part of my life.”

For Deepika, the sport changed everything. “It gave me the chance to travel, represent Karnataka and India, and meet people who inspired me. It taught me teamwork, discipline, and leadership — all of which help me in my studies and my life.”

Thanks to cricket, she also secured a job — and a stronger sense of who she is.

For many others, a World Cup win meant being able to build a home for their family or repay loans. “They went from being ignored to being honoured guests in their villages,” Mahantesh says. “That’s what sports can do.”

Leading from lived experience

Ask Mahantesh what kept him going through the decades, and his answer is simple: “I always believed people would walk with me. I never felt alone.”

His approach was grounded in action, not demands. “We didn’t fight policy. We showed success. And then, the policymakers followed.”

This clarity of purpose has led to national and global recognition — from receiving the NDTV Spirit of Sports Award in 2012, to earning consultative status with the United Nations ECOSOC in 2015. But for Mahantesh, the work is far from done.

With a team of 700 people across India, Samarthanam is now working to build an inclusive global university and an accessible sports city in Bengaluru — spaces where people with disabilities can thrive, learn, and lead.

To those navigating similar challenges, Mahantesh shares what life taught him: “Believe in your abilities. Don’t think about your disability. Stay positive. Ask for what you need. Take one step forward, and someone will take you 10 steps further.”

Deepika echoes his words. “Believe in your dreams, whether it’s becoming a cricketer, a singer, or even an IAS officer like I dream of. You have the strength within you.”

Now a father of two, Mahantesh leads with quiet contentment. “Life has been good. It wasn’t easy, but I’ve been lucky. And I’ve had the joy of seeing others rise with me.”

Life didn’t go the way anyone expected. But Mahantesh never waited for the world to change. He built his own — and then kept the door open for everyone else.

All images courtesy Samarthanam Trust for the Disabled