UTTARAKHAND : In the rugged altitudes of Uttarakhand where every dawn presents a new negotiation with the elements, life demands fortitude. Yet, for Satpal, born in the remote village of Kansili in Rudraprayag district, the challenge arrived not merely from geography, but also from the crushing weight of economic despair. At a tender age, he shouldered the responsibility for his family.
Despite adversity, Satpal held onto his singular ambition. The scars of his early life run so deep that he chooses to remain opaque about his origins—he neither speaks of his estranged father, nor wishes to acknowledge the caste markers that once defined his social space.
Born on July 2, 1995, Satpal possessed a sensitive nature. Witnessing his mother toil amidst deprivation, a fierce vow took root in the young boy: he would never allow the void of father’s absence to be felt. By the age of 10, he had begun supplementing their meagre existence by taking on manual labour, ensuring he could manage the school fees for himself and his siblings. His days became a disciplined cycle: household duties at dawn, studies under the sun, and hard labour as dusk fell.
While children of his age chased cricket balls, Satpal’s hands gripped the shovel and pickaxe. He carved out moments to transform his observations into poetry. The harsh realities of his environment moulded a maturity in him beyond his years. These circumstances propelled him towards poetry.
No one witnessing Satpal hauling sacks of earth for building sites could ever have imagined his literary ambition. Yet, at just 15, with help from teachers, he published his first collection of verses, ‘Mayaaru Prayaas, Protsaan Aapu’ (My Effort, Your Encouragement), a work woven into the social fabric around him.
“I kept working as a labourer while studying and writing poetry. One day, after finishing my board exams, I rushed to a construction site because I had a shift to work. By chance, my mathematics teacher, Mr Rawat, saw me lifting a heavy load of sand and gravel. He was shocked,” Satpal said. “Once they understood my reality, they asked for all the poems I had written. They stood as a shield of support,” Satpal added.
“Seeing the cooperation of my teachers, an idea struck me: Just as a magician collects money by performing a trick, why not get support by reciting poetry, whatever people could spare? The grace of Maa Saraswati was upon me, and my fortune began to turn,” he said.
His teachers arranged his first public reading at the Government Inter College, Bhiri. After the recital, teachers appealed to the assembly to contribute whatever they could to support Satpal. The response was immediate — `145 was collected. When the final sum arrived, Satpal could scarcely believe it. He was called back and presented with `1,245. The boy who once carried cement sacks was now known as Satpal the poet. People began inviting him to recite his poetry.
From that moment, he never looked back. Through the income from his published books, Satpal financed the weddings of his two younger sisters and established his brother in a business venture. Lakhpat Rana, the chairperson of the Jeevan Nirman Education Society, awarded him a scholarship for three years.