GUJARAT: In the quiet haunt of Monpar village, in Gir Somnath district of coastal Gujarat, lives a woman whose name is now etched in quiet glory. Mamtaben was not handed an easy life. But when the world shut doors, she strived to build her own way in.
Born in 1979 in Bhavnagar, her life took a tragic turn even before she learned to speak. Barely 10 months old, and only learning to walk – Mamtaben came down with a sudden high fever. Then an injection snatched it all away, forever. She was diagnosed with polio. The world shifted beneath her feet — because her feet would no longer be able to carry her.
While other children stumbled and stood, Mamtaben learned to crawl through pain. Her family, grappling with poverty, moved to Surat in hope of a better life. After two years of struggling in the city, they returned to Monpar, and to farming. In a household of four children, Mamtaben’s condition stood out — not with shame, but in silent dignity, she endured.
A hand-pedaled tricycle became her chariot, carrying her not just from her home to Bagdana village for school — a 2-km journey toward dreams many thought she had no right to hold. Rain, sun, stones, nothing stopped her wheels. She completed her education till Class 10 and earned a place at Sardar Patel Hostel in Bhavnagar — a new world of independence and quiet struggles.
For nearly seven years, she wheeled herself to and from college, refusing to let her disability script her future. She completed her Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees in Arts, proving that where society draws limits, will writes fresh beginnings. But life, again, reminded her that degrees don’t always feed dreams.
Back in her village, no jobs waited. There was no one to guide her toward opportunities in cities, and with no funds for vocational courses, self-employment seemed distant.
And as if the struggle wasn’t enough, Mamtaben bore the barbed words of her community: taunts that labelled her a “burden like a snake’s weight.”
A glimmer of hope showed itsel through marriage, not as an escape, but as a promise of companionship and dignity. In 2010, she married Arvindbhai, a Divyang man from Devdiya village near Ahmedabad. He, too, bore the scars of fate — impaired speech, mobility issues, and fragile hands. Yet together, they became each other’s strength.
Mamtaben, ever resourceful, began doing intricate mirror work on dresses and sarees from home. It brought in Rs 800-1,500 a month — not riches, but enough to hold onto dignity. Their lives were measured not by money, but by meaning. In the eyes of the world, they had little. In each other, they had everything.
Mamtaben’s story isn’t one of extraordinary miracles. It’s about the quiet power of showing up, every single day, no matter how heavy the burden. In a world that often overlooks those without privilege or power, she carved a space for herself with nothing but courage and love.
She teaches us that even when life takes away your ability to walk, you can still move mountains with will. Even when society tells you to stay down, you rise not by rebellion—but by resilience.