‘BSG for SDG’ Sustainable Newsletter | Issue 24 | July 2025

Growing up, I struggled with academics. I didn’t have strong grades, nor a clear vision for my future. Surrounded by intellectuals, I often felt invisible, unworthy, and small. But in 2004, my life began to shift when I became a voluntary member of Bharat Soka Gakkai (BSG).

Through BSG, I encountered my mentor, Dr. Daisaku Ikeda, whose writings completely changed my view of life and leadership. I was especially moved by his words: “The most important requisite for the educated is to know the thoughts and feelings of the marginalized.” His guidance sparked a new way of thinking in me – education wasn’t just about degrees. It was about becoming a person who uplifts others.

Motivated by this philosophy, I moved from a simple B.A. in Programming to a postgraduate degree in Conflict Transformation and Peacebuilding at Lady Shri Ram College, Delhi University. While studying inter-religious conflicts in rural India, I came across something that wasn’t in any textbook – the silent crisis of sanitation. I saw the absence of toilets, the lack of menstrual health infrastructure, and how hygiene was treated as taboo, not policy. I realized that these “conflicts of avoidance” – the ones no one talks about – were just as urgent.

During my internship with UNICEF, I saw it all up close – people with disabilities crawling to toilets, women hiding in shame, communities abandoned by policy. In meetings filled with jargon, I still felt small – but I held on to the voice of my mentor and the training I had received through my Gakkai activities.

That quiet determination led me to the WASH sector – Water, Sanitation, and Hygiene – a field that in 2011 had little visibility, funding, or respect. When I told people I wanted to work on menstrual hygiene, I was met with puzzled looks. But I couldn’t unsee what I had seen.

Despite rejections, I kept writing proposals. Eventually, I designed successful programs to educate girls in states like Bihar and Uttar Pradesh, conducted workshops, and trained adolescent boys and girls. I led open defecation-free campaigns and created spaces for voices that had long been silenced.

I often go back to the famous anecdote of the three men laying bricks. When asked what they were doing, one said, “I’m laying bricks,” the other said, “I’m building a wall.” But the third said, “I’m building a cathedral.” Though all three seemed to be doing the same task, the third worked with grand and inspiring vision, to which I relate the most. I wasn’t just working on sanitation – I was building dignity.

In 2014, sanitation became a national mission. The issue that no one wanted to talk about suddenly received funding and focus. It felt like the silent work we had been doing in the background was finally being acknowledged. Then, in 2016, WASH was formally recognized as a global priority when it was included as a key target under the United Nations’ Sustainable Development Goals – especially under SDG 6: Clean Water and Sanitation. What was once overlooked had now found its rightful place on both national and global agendas.

Inspired by my mentor, I also wrote down a 50-year vision. One of my goals was to see an open defecation-free India. We’re not there yet, but change has begun. I’ve seen rural children use toilets for the first time. I’ve seen women reclaim space and dignity. I’ve worked with central government programs, helping shape policy at a national level.

Today, I work at the intersection of policy and practice. I know the sector is full of contradictions – tight budgets, shifting priorities, and high risks. But I’ve also seen how deeply people care. I’ve met young professionals from Ivy League colleges choosing to work in public health and sanitation. That, to me, is real success.

I’ve never won an award or made headlines. But I exist. And that matters. I’m one part of a vast, collective effort to create a healthier, more equitable India.

Dr. Ikeda once said, “For what purpose should one cultivate wisdom? May you always ask yourself this question!” That’s my anchor. No matter where life takes me next, I will keep returning to my “why.” I will continue to serve, uplift, and build. One brick, one person, one act of courage at a time.

I’m an architect by profession and was introduced to the world of Soka Gakkai right from birth, with both my parents being practicing BSG members since before.

Growing up surrounded by the writings and guidance of Dr. Daisaku Ikeda, I took him on as my lifelong mentor. His peace proposals, especially those on human rights and sustainability, left a deep impact on me. I often asked myself: How can I contribute to society as an architect? I didn’t have the answers back then, but one thing was clear – I wanted to live true to my mentor’s vision.

As I pursued my studies, my desire to build a safer, more inclusive India grew stronger – especially for women and children. I learned that something as basic as the lack of toilets had far-reaching consequences. Women in rural areas are more vulnerable to sexual assault due to open defecation. They also face severe health risks due to poor sanitation. This drew me to SDG 6 – Clean Water and Sanitation – and made me determined to contribute meaningfully to the WASH (Water, Sanitation, and Hygiene) sector.

Wanting to gain hands-on grassroots exposure, I applied to a prestigious fellowship program that allowed me to work on a real-world project with an NGO. That’s how I landed in a small village near Madurai, Tamil Nadu, called Silaiman. My project spans across three nearby villages – Keeladi, Konthagai, and Panayur – where I’ve spent the past six months designing and constructing sustainable, inclusive, cost-effective toilets for under-resourced households.

Working at the grassroots completely changed my perspective. I learned that every community has its own rhythms, reasons, and logic. You can’t just enter with solutions crafted in an air-conditioned office and expect change. The community must be part of the solution for it to truly last.

I realized that the core issue wasn’t just the lack of toilets – it was the mindset. Many villagers see toilets as something the government or an NGO should build, not something they can or should take ownership of.

To shift this, we introduced a revolving fund system. We provide interest-free loans to households, with part of the cost contributed by the family. This creates ownership and pride in the process. Families co-design the toilet with us, so they understand the construction process and can replicate it independently in the future – even if a professional isn’t around.

Once the loan is repaid, that amount is passed on to the next family – allowing the same funds to benefit more households over time. This simple model reduces dependency on external funding and empowers the community to build sustainably from within. If successful, the NGO plans to scale this model to other regions too.

This work is a small but significant step toward the promise I’ve made to my mentor. More than just a fellowship project, this has been a turning point in my life. I now clearly see why I chose architecture – not just to build structures, but to build dignity, health, and opportunity.

This journey has taught me that true design isn’t just aesthetic – it’s empathetic. And change doesn’t begin with grand plans – it begins with people.

With this renewed determination, I am committed to continuing my work in the WASH sector even after the fellowship ends. I’m more confident than ever in my mission: to use architecture as a tool for human transformation. And with my mentor’s guidance in my heart, I will keep building – not just toilets, but hope, one household at a time.