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.

After finishing her Masters in LD, Mankad set up a remedial unit for students at SNDT where Patpatia met her. She saw in her the rare qualities of throwing herself unequivocally into her work and the instant connection she could establish with children. "I persuaded her to join REACH, which I had already started but which, today, I can say I couldn't have run without her support, enthusiasm and fervour," says Patpatia indulgently. They bridge their 20-year-old age gap with an ease that has come with respect, a shared passion and the odds they have faced to give a direction to so many young lives.

Mankad says, "Every day is a different day. Apart from a rough sketch of the curriculum and a timetable, nothing else is planned. The kids go through different emotions and often, we see a new side to each child and find new ways of handling them." Thirty-year-old Mankad easily subjects an errant student to a pride and passion for her brood. She treats the kids as her own, with firmness and love, with understanding and admonishing. In fact, importantly, both Patpatia and Mankad treat them as 'normal'.

"We have to be available to these children 24/7," says Patpatia, without any regrets. "The adolescents, mainly, not only have academic problems but also emotional ones. Due to hormonal changes, societal pressures and parental expectations, they face conflicts at home. Quite often, we get calls even at odd hours asking for intervention."

Though Patpatia addresses emotional problems 'purely playing it by the ear', Mankad is doing her counselling course. "A lot of people also feel that these children don't require attention at that very moment - it can wait - but actually there have been anger outbursts where students wanted to throw TV sets out of the window! If there is no timely intervention then the consequences can be harmful," says Mankad.

Across a broad spectrum of LD, REACH addresses students suffering from dyslexia (problem in learning to read or interpret words), dysgraphia (difficulty in expressing oneself in writing), dyscalculia (disorder relating to reading and interpreting numbers) and slow learning (borderline IQs). Though special education is expensive, the heart still rules over a commercial head and Patpatia charges a minimum amount from the students as they come from lower socio-economic backgrounds. "I always ask their parents as to how much they can afford every month. I believe that education shouldn't be given free. Firstly, because then it is not valued and secondly, to enable them to commit to it."

Patpatia and Mankad have it neatly divided between them: while Patpatia handles the administration and accounts, Mankad, the more outgoing of the two, looks after their links to the world, getting in students from SNDT and organising workshops. But ultimately, "you have to work from the heart," says Patpatia, "to get the pulse of the child." Mankad adds, "A lot of insight is required, loads of patience. You should have the ability to leave your problems outside the door when you walk in."

Just watching the two in action with kids who can get boisterous, cranky, attention-seeking and hyperactive, cajoling them, trying to understand their fears and doing it all with a smile on their faces, can be both tiring as well as inspiring to watch. "You need to have a lot of energy. But I guess it comes naturally to us - because if you are really into the cause and you want to teach these children, come what may, then you find the energy just flowing within you. In fact even when we are on leave, our minds are always here. Somewhere, the children are very dependent on us," says Mankad. "We need to wean them off! But then the thought occurs - if not us, then who else will offer them unconditional love and acceptance?"

They have changed. Along with the students, the women have undergone a marked and permanent catharsis. It is in many ways, a symbiotic relationship: just as the children can't do without their love and support, they can't do without the kids' whole-hearted embracement. For Mankad, her vocation has defined her philosophical leanings. "It has brought home the fact that you can't get everything you want. So be happy with what you have. It's also made me realise the importance of living in the present. If you look at it from the children's point of view, their futures are bleak compared to ours. At least we had a future waiting for us; they still have to look for theirs. So if they can enjoy the present fully so should we."

Patpatia says, "Working with these kids has made me much softer. I was a little brash and blunt. It has made me more accepting of situations and people. I don't jump to conclusions or make judgments anymore." It has also enabled her to view her family differently. "I have changed my attitude towards my own children. I now give them the freedom to do what they're good at, what their hearts want.

Success stories, there are plenty at REACH. Whether it is a dyslexic girl who came to Patpatia when she was 10 years old and recently completed her ICSE with 72 per cent or a slow learner who reached the doors of REACH when he was 11 years old, and completed his std X through the NIOS (National Open University) and is today employed by Patpatia as a data entry operator; the women have taken it up as their mission to ensure that not only do these students reach a standard of acceptance in their education but are also employed gainfully, thereby ensuring financial independence for life.

Hope. That's what shines through stronger than the afternoon sun that hits you as you step out of their little world. A haven, a place where kids can rest and recuperate their souls and learn to face the world outside again. This time with confidence, trust and, yes, plenty of hope.