Hello folks, here’s a beautiful story of Vineeta, a child of great poverty. I couldn’t hold back my tears when I read it. I am planning to send her to Australia for her Masters. I’m certain it will happen some day soon.
My name is Vineeta, and I’m 20 years old. I live in the Pilli Kothi slum community in the western part of Delhi. But my story begins in a forgotten village in South Uttar Pradesh — a place where opportunities were almost nonexistent, where dreams died young, and poverty ruled every corner of life. My father, the eldest of four brothers, grew up with barely enough to eat and no land worth farming. Though he managed to finish school, a job never came his way. My mother was born in a village so remote; it didn’t even have a school. She never got the chance to learn how to read or write.
When I was just three and a half — with my elder brother barely five and my younger brother still a toddler — my parents made a decision that would shape our lives forever. They left behind everything they knew and migrated to Delhi, hoping their children could live a life that they never could — a life where education wasn’t a privilege but a right. In Pilli Kothi, my father found a small patch of land and built a tiny shanty with an asbestos roof. That one 8x8 feet room became our entire universe. It became our kitchen, our bedroom, our world. We sleep shoulder to shoulder, clear the utensils each night just to make space to lie down. There are no windows. No proper toilet. No water supply.
We line up for water at the community tap, often facing abuse and pushing. Life is not just hard — it is crushing. But in that darkness, my father lit a spark. He carried bricks and cement at construction sites all day, returning home covered in dust and pain — but he never let go of one dream: our education. My elder brother, being the firstborn, was prioritized. I had to compromise again and again. But I never backed down.
But life wasn’t done testing me.
In Class 9, my mother fell seriously ill. Her hands and legs became infected, and she struggled to breathe — years of physical labor had destroyed her health. She could no longer work or even cook. My father and I took on everything — from her treatment to daily chores. My elder brother began working part-time. We all pulled together to survive. Despite the chaos, I scored 78% in my Class 10 exams. With no desk or study space, I would go up to the rooftop and study late at night under a weak bulb after everyone fell asleep. My family would cover their eyes so the light wouldn’t disturb them. Those nights, under the stars, I learned to dream.
In Class 12, something life-changing happened.
An ambassador from Asha came to our slum for a survey. They spoke with me, heard my story, and invited me to the Asha center in Mayapuri — a 20-minute walk that would rewrite my destiny.
That walk changed my life.
The Asha center became my second home. Their belief in me gave me the strength I had never felt before. With their unwavering support, I passed my Class 12 board exams with 86.7%. When it came time to choose a college, my family urged me to take the safer, cheaper route: Open Learning. It seemed practical, even sensible. But Asha believed in me even when I couldn’t believe in myself. They walked with me through the entire admissions process and paid my full Delhi University fees for a Political Science Honours degree, ensuring finances would never block my future. On the first day of college, I felt like an outsider. Everyone seemed smarter, richer, more confident. I wore simple clothes. I didn’t speak fluent English. I carried the weight of where I came from. Some students were kind, others indifferent. But I didn’t let it break me. That very day, I entered a quiz competition — and won.
That moment changed something inside me. I realized that confidence doesn’t come from background, but from belief. From that day forward, I stopped hiding. I started rising. Today, I am in my fourth year, with a 7.86 CGPA — every point earned with grit, sacrifice, and relentless effort. I’ve become a mentor to children in my community. I guide them, just like Asha guided me. We walk through narrow lanes, knock on doors, and let families know that they are not invisible, and they are not alone.
Thanks to Asha, I got the incredible chance to speak at a debate at the residence of the Irish Ambassador. I also recently completed an internship with F1F9, a UK-based Financial Modelling firm — something I had never even dreamed of. Now, I stand at the edge of a new chapter. I want to pursue post-graduation. I want to continue learning, continue growing, continue giving. From eating brinjal for days because that’s all we could afford… to standing tall in the corridors of one of India’s top universities, my journey has been one of pain and purpose. Of dust and dignity. Of struggles, scars, and strength. Asha didn’t just support my education — they opened the world to me. They awakened the fire inside me.
And now, I carry that fire forward — into every home, every child’s heart that still dares to dream from the darkness.
Because if I can rise, so can they.
