A narrow dusty road winds its way sweeping the outskirts of a maidan. Children squeal as they kick a football up in the air and enthusiastically chart its progress till it drops on the dry mud, leaving in its wake a brown dust that scatters and settles on their clothes. Close by is a row house, its white walls still untouched by paint - its interiors are enhanced by the laughter and camaraderie of several children, a mix of ages, socio-economic backgrounds and educational ranks. All have one thing in common - they all suffer from Learning Disabilities (LD).

"In India, precious little is being done for those with LD," says Anuradha Patpatia, 50, the serene, mellow force behind REACH, an NGO that works towards educating children suffering from LD. It was in Hyderabad, where her husband was transferred and she had only her two daughters for company, that she met a 94-year-old lady, Kira Banasinska, who was to have a profound influence on her and change the direction of her life.

Banasinska, the Polish ambassador's wife, had a life story that few could rival. At the age of 60 she lost everything she had: a factory, her husband and she started life all over again in Hyderabad with toys specifically structured to Montessori teaching standards. "At 90 plus, Banasinska was still running her business. I was her companion for two hours daily, sorting out her correspondence, talking with her. She told me that age isn't a barrier for anything. If she could start all over again at 60, so could anyone else," says Patpatia.

She also volunteered her services part time, twice a week to Mother Teresa's orphanage, helping the nuns with their paperwork, admissions and organising prosthesis for the children and helping with their admissions. "I had to get a mentally challenged girl enrolled in a special school. Due to lack of funds, I was required to present her case to the trustees. I spent a lot of time waiting for people at this school and slowly learnt that there is indeed a special method of teaching these kids."

Back in Mumbai, a city where Patpatia was at home, she armed herself with a B.Ed in special education from SNDT. "I had a strong need to help children with learning disabilities and set up REACH in 2002, dipping into my pocket to finance this place where kids feel accepted and understood."

It is hard for an outsider to make out that these children indeed lack anything in their set of skills. The classes are divided by makeshift partitions which allow the laughter from one class to trickle into another. Assorted drawings, timetables and craft projects adorn the walls of REACH. The children are grouped on the basis of their level of learning skills and not chronological age. Plastic chairs serve as communication seats and the desks are slightly unhinged but sturdy enough for the students to feel a different kind of support, something that has been withheld from them at home, in the schools from where they were shown the door and from seemingly 'normal' peers who ridiculed them.

"The world has not accepted them. In fact, when they have vacations, they don't like it at all. These children can't adjust to change. They need to go to the same place and interact with the same people over a period of time," says Hiral Mankad, Patpatia's friend and partner at REACH.