Unsung Legends: Arun Krishnamurthy — The Boy Who Cleaned a Lake

“ Sunday Stories: The Success Secrets of Extraordinary”

Arun Krishnamurthy was just 17 when he realised something heartbreaking—
the lake he grew up visiting, the one where he once watched birds glide and dragonflies dance, had become a garbage ground.

Most people looked at the mess and said,
“The government should clean this.”
Others just clicked pictures and posted them online.

But Arun did something different.

He stood at the edge of the polluted water, took a deep breath, picked up a sack, and took the first step.

That day, Arun didn’t clean the whole lake.
He didn’t inspire thousands.
He didn’t have funds, volunteers, or a plan.
He had just one thing: the courage to begin.

He returned the next day… and the next.
Slowly, people noticed. A few joined him. Some brought gloves, others came with their families.

What started as one teenager with a sack grew into a movement.

Arun then founded EFI — Environmental Foundation of India, an organisation committed to restoring water bodies.

From small ponds to massive lakes, his team began cleaning, desilting, fencing, creating awareness, and bringing back lost ecosystems.

It wasn’t glamorous work. It meant mud, sweat, sunburns, trash, and endless hours.
But Arun believed something powerful:
“If we don’t fix our environment, who will?”

Today, he leads thousands of volunteers and has helped restore over 150 lakes across India.
Thanks to him, once-dead lakes now bloom with birds, fish, and fresh water again.

You don’t need to wait for permission, perfect conditions, or popularity.
You just need to take the first courageous step—
whether it's cleaning a corner of your classroom, planting a sapling, helping a friend, or starting a change in your own neighbourhood.

Big movements always begin with one person who decides:
“I’ll do something about it.”
You could be that person.

Unsung Legends: Karimul Haque — Padma Shri Awardee: The Real-Life Game Changer

  “ Sunday Stories: The Success Secrets of Extraordinary”

Karimul Haque lived in a small village near the tea gardens of Jalpaiguri, West Bengal. The roads were rough, the hospitals were far, and ambulances rarely reached his area in time.

One night in 1995, his world changed forever.

His mother fell critically ill. Karimul ran for help—he begged for an ambulance, but none came. The village’s narrow, broken roads made it impossible for the vehicle to reach them.
His mother died before she received care.

That loss didn’t turn him bitter.

It turned him brave.

Karimul made a promise to himself, a promise he repeats even today:

“No one should die because help couldn’t reach them.”

He didn’t have money.
He didn’t have influence.
He had a second-hand motorcycle and an unshakeable heart.

So he turned his bike into a makeshift ambulance, attaching belts and improvised stretchers, teaching himself how to carry patients safely. At first, people laughed. Some were unsure if it was safe.

But when he saved his first life—carrying a coworker with a snakebite 45 minutes to the hospital—everything changed.

Word spread.

For over 20 years, Karimul has carried 5,500+ patients to hospitals — through rain, floods, heat, and pitch-dark nights.
He used to ride 30–40 km per trip, sometimes more, often without sleep.
He calls every patient “family.”

His service earned him recognition, including the honor of being named a Padma Shri awardee—one of India’s highest civilian awards in 2017.

He is widely known as "Bike-Ambulance Dada" (Ambulance Elder Brother) in the Dooars belt of West Bengal.

But when asked what he’s proudest of, he says:

“Seeing people live.”

And still, he wakes up at dawn, drinks his tea, checks his bike, and waits for the next call.

Because heroes don’t retire.
They just keep riding.