Journeys often take us to new places and offer fresh perspectives on life, helping us see the things we often overlook. For Sreehari C S, a nurse from Kottayam, one such journey has sparked a radical shift in perspective. It led him to a mission most hesitate to touch: a dream of a nation with zero waste.
In an era when most social influencers chase fame through food, fashion, and lifestyle trends, Sreehari — known as the.nurse.boy — is of a different kind. While others come in front of the camera for likes, Sreehari has become a masked man with a different aim: to follow the Swachh Bharat Mission in its truest sense. After cleaning various locations across many states in India, he brought his mission home to Kerala, where he has now completed a cleaning drive in every district. Unbothered by the number of followers, he prefers becoming a real influence on society, using digital reach for actual civic transformation.
Sreehari’s mission began with a budget-friendly all-India trip. Travelling with just `7,000 in hand, he and his friends slept in railway stations, temples, and churches, witnessing the raw life of the country.
“During that trip, I saw a child with pneumonia lying in a waste pit near a railway station in Mumbai,” Sreehari recalls. “We started this mission by cleaning up that very spot. And then we went on to clean many other places during that trip.”
Upon returning, people began suggesting similar ideas in Kerala. Inspired by them, Sreehari and his friend Gopish M K began similar initiatives locally. Initially, they viewed it purely as a social service and didn’t even record their work. However, they soon realised the power of social media to influence others. “We hoped to make civic sense a trend when we started, and it actually happened. After we started, many such small and large pages emerged.”
Despite their massive social media reach, Sreehari and Gopish maintain a strict sense of anonymity. Sreehari is always seen wearing a surgical mask — a nod to his nursing profession and a symbol of his focus on the work rather than his face. His friend Gopish remains entirely behind the camera, never appearing in the frame. For them, the mission is far more important than fame.
“As a nurse, I understand that it is better to prevent the cause of the disease before it occurs,” he explains. This philosophy provides the will to continue his gruelling work. While many of his peers are choosing to study or work abroad, Sreehari stayed back with his mission. His journey has been supported by his friend Albin Mathew, who works in Italy and helps to manage the financial demands.
Waste management is as difficult as waste collection. Sreehari often coordinates with local authorities, though he admits they sometimes hesitate to collect what he gathers. In those cases, he relies on plastic booths or organisations like the Haritha Karma Sena.
He is firm about the importance of individual contributions over government reliance. “I alone cannot make a place clean. But if ten people watch me and decide not to throw away their waste, then they’ve got my message,” he says. He points out the irony of Indian behaviour abroad: “When we visit foreign countries, we follow their systems and won’t throw away a bottle. We can do the same for our own country. We just need to be conscious.”
Sreehari emphasises that we cannot simply blame the government for every pile of trash. He points out that the massive funds initiated for these missions — nearly `900 crore for the Swachh Bharat Mission — are drawn directly from public taxes.
“While we litter, we aren’t just dirtying the road; we are wasting our own hard-earned money that could have been used for public infrastructure development. The system cannot control 140 crore people if they lack consciousness. If we don’t litter, the need for collecting the waste disappears.”
Having worked in every district in Kerala, Sreehari identifies Kollam beach as the biggest challenge. “It was so dirty that I couldn’t even complete the cleaning. People were throwing waste as we were working, and authorities were not even willing to take the waste we had collected,” he recalls. He has also seen cleaned spots in Bengaluru and Ettumanoor bus stand turn back into dumpsters within a day. “It is quite saddening.”
Yet, there is hope. He is joined by a silent army of volunteers: a boy with a fractured hand who travelled 19km by bus to help in Alappuzha Beach; a doctor in Malappuram who joined for an hour before his shift, refusing to be filmed because he wasn’t there for publicity; and an army man who travelled 60km by bike just to help the day before being posted to Kashmir.
Sreehari’s dream is to adopt small panchayats and help them achieve zero-waste status within five years. He hopes to see waste management become a respected profession rather than something that is looked down upon.
“I wish to continue this as a professional job. One can’t depend on social media forever,” he says. “I will continue to do this as long as I can. If I am unable to continue, I will return to my profession as a nurse. But for now, the mission comes first.”
For Sreehari, this is far more than a demonstration for Environment Day or a one-time social media trend. It is a persistent vision of a zero-waste nation that keeps him moving. Despite the systemic hurdles and the weight of public indifference, he continues to take small, deliberate steps toward this massive goal. He is not just cleaning streets; he is inviting an entire nation to wake up and heal itself, one piece of plastic at a time.