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........

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