At a local school function in Karjat, an adivasi boy takes to the stage and performs his improvisation of the tribal haldi dance with the agility of Michael Jackson. ‘How did you learn to move like this?’ A few members of the audience ask him when he steps off the stage but the lad shrugs his act off as no great a feat. He is but one of the many children whom Villy Doctor and her Light of Life Trust have given a platform to.

It’s a warm and sultry Sunday morning. I wait patiently out on the green front lawn; Villy Doctor emerges from her quaint house in Karjat dressed in a crisp cotton saree. Highly competitive during her college days, a time when coming even second in class was not an option, Doctor is now quite a study in contrast.

She tells me about her father, a compassionate man who immersed himself in books on meditation and her mother, a gentle woman who could never turn away a person in need. It was through them that she began to take interest in the workings of the human psyche and the influence of meditation. She narrates, how at a young age, she began analysing people and having her own little conversations with God, asking him why he had put her on earth, while her mother was working in the next room. “We were a happy family,” she reminisces.

She was the apple of her father’s eye, “completely spoilt”, she jokes. But in a bizarre turn of events, when Doctor was just beginning her eighth standard in school, her father laid down a new rule. “You have to learn to take care of yourself now, Villy. Anything you want, you have to pay for it,” he said, sealing the topic with finality. Determined to do anything to support her education, the 14-year-old girl began giving French tuitions to a family friend at Rs 60 a month. The experience taught her the value of money and the benefits of hard work for which she is eternally grateful to her father. Working her way through an MA in Psychology, she went on to set up a counselling centre, Psyche, while teaching in some of the best institutes in Mumbai, like Nirmala Niketan, St Xavier’s College and Sophia College. These days, although the subject matter is no longer French or psychology, Doctor is still teaching meditation and some of her most eager students are the children of Anando.

“I honestly never thought I would be doing social work,” says Doctor who left her husband, Vispi, in charge of Ormax, a market research company that they founded together, to establish The Light of Life Trust in 2002. In the months that followed, Doctor kept herself busy tending to all the formalities that came with setting up a project of this scale – making presentations, getting grants and scouting for property to establish a base. She laughs as she confessed, “One day, all I knew about Karjat was that you got the most delicious vada pavs there and the next day, I was a land owner.”

So far, it has been a smooth journey, where there is no ego, there are no problems, she explains. Word spread and soon donations began pouring in. Trained social workers and volunteers went scouring from school to school, building up profiles of the most underprivileged children in the Karjat district and finally, in 2005, Anando was ready to be put to the test. Doctor remembers how she felt when, on the opening day, the first 25 specially selected students came in. “My heart bled when I first saw them,” she says. The children were shy and communication was marred by her inability to speak fluent Marathi and they did not know English or Hindi. As these weak and malnourished children devoured the glucose biscuits and bananas that were provided to them, Doctor realised that the torn clothes on their backs were the least of their problems. Along with their regular curriculum, these kids were exposed to personality development exercises, counselling, vocational guidance and of course, meditation. The transformation was slow but sure, as the children grew more confident and aware of their surroundings.

After a 30-minute car ride we arrive at the Anando office, a small flat in a building adjacent to the station whose tiny rooms double as class rooms. Art work has been neatly pasted up all over the walls, some depicting children herding cattle, working and looking after their younger siblings, giving you a peek into some of the children’s daily lives. Doctor often worries about insignificant things, “but when I see these kids and how motivated they are I think, I should be like them and forget about everything else.” This philosophy has worked well for her, as today, Anando has grown to include 800 students of all ages. With over 1,500 children on the waiting list, there is still a lot of work to be done. About the future, “I would like Anando to help the underprivileged all over the world.” She shrugs, “If it’s in my destiny, it will happen.” As for the community in Karjat that has helped so generously, Doctor has big plans – a spiritual rejuvenation centre, a hospice, an orphanage and an old people’s home.

Finally, it’s time to meet the children. We head out to a local school and although it is vacation time, a good number of kids have turned up for the supplementary classes currently being conducted. As I look around, I realise that though they have nothing, they have been touched in a special way by Doctor. I ask the children what they love about this programme. Roshan, a 15-year-old sitting to my right, says, “Anando has taught me how to recognise an opportunity and how to be a better person.” To my left, sits 15-year-old Ganesh, who passionately adds in, “this organisation is the door to God.”