In a dusty lane of Jharkhand’s Dhanbad town, a thin boy named Arun Verma grew up surrounded by coal mines and endless black soot. His father, Mahesh, worked as a railway clerk; his mother, Kamla, sold vegetables in the weekly market.
From the time Arun could hold a pencil, numbers fascinated him. While other children chased kites, he counted the angles of the sky. By class ten he was solving college-level math problems on torn bits of newspaper.
A local teacher, Mr. Prakash Sahu, noticed. “You have a gift, Arun,” he said. “Apply for the National Mathematics Fellowship in Delhi. It can change your life.”
Arun knew that any extra move means extra money and his family was not in a position to even think about spending extra money. Arun swallowed his disappointment and moved ahead. His talent was being known to few coaching institutes and so the coaching institutes offered him a position of Maths teacher. Arun joined in and started teaching, his excellent Mathematics knowledge and teaching skills spread like a wildfire in the town.
The coaching institute business was booming, and Arun became the star teacher at the coaching institute decided to teach the underprivilege students for free. Time went by and slowly the money started flowing in and eventually Arun also moved ahead in his life with his childhood friend Ritika,
Things were fine till Arun met with a small accident. One night after finishing his teaching he came out of the coaching institute, got into his car and tried igniting it but unfortunately the car seems to be in some problem. Arun got down and decided to take a auto to his house, when he was waiting for the auto he found a boy sitting beneath the streetlight trying to solve a Math problem. Arun went near to the boy and suggested few steps which the boy was missing. The equation got solved.
Arun while heading back to his house got into deep though a thought which do not want any other aspirant to get stuck in their studies only because they don't have extra money.
He does not want any other Arun who held his dreams because of the poverty. He planned and discussed with Ritika about it. she was also exited to hear this and she told that she would be equally participating in all the activities.
Arun quit his coaching job and started finding a space which was not easy. He finally rented an unused warehouse near the Katras Colliery, paying from his savings. Rain leaked through the tin roof and the walls were cracked. Undeterred, Arun painted them white with his own hands. He found a dozen old benches discarded by a government school. Friends donated a blackboard.
He named the programme “Thirty Bright Lamps”—symbolizing thirty students whose minds could light up the world. Arun along with friend Ritika, a passionate social worker, cycled across villages Tundi, Baghmara, Jharia conducting sample tests. Children came barefoot, carrying great hope.
Finally, thirty were selected: children of farmers, miners, labourers, and tea sellers. Some were girls who had never owned a proper notebook. Parents were hesitant, but Arun promised food and books free of cost.
“Sir, will we really be able to sit for the big engineering exam?” a shy girl named Sunita asked. Arun smiled. “You will not only sit, you will shine.”
Life became a test of endurance. Arun taught ten hours a day. Ritika managed meals and raised small donations. They survived on simple dal, rice, and endless cups of chai. Electricity cuts forced night classes by kerosene lamp. Monsoon water flooded the floor. Some students walked eight kilometers daily. Yet their determination never wavered.
Arun often repeated, “Poverty is a hurdle, not a full stop.”
Local private coaching owners, fearing loss of business, tried to sabotage them. Anonymous complaints were filed with the education department. Landlords were pressured to evict them.
One evening a group of hired men vandalized the classroom, breaking benches. Arun rebuilt everything the next day with the students’ help. “No one can break our courage,” he said, hammer in hand.
Word spread about the unique school. A journalist from Ranchi visited and published an article titled “Young Math Teacher Lights a Hundred Dreams in Dhanbad.”
Donations of books and food started arriving. A retired engineer offered to coach in physics on weekends. For the first time, the Thirty Bright Lamps had enough chalk to last the month.
As the national engineering entrance exam approached, tension grew. Arun doubled the practice sessions. “Accuracy is our weapon,” he told them. He explained difficult calculus in simple Hindi analogies, curves became rivers, integrals became cups of water.
Some students battled personal crises: Sunita’s father fell ill, a boy named Rahul lost his home in a mine accident. Arun visited each family, encouraging them to keep the children in class.
On the crisp winter morning of the exam, thirty nervous but determined students boarded the bus to Ranchi, carrying admission cards and Arun’s blessings. He handed each a small lamp keychain. “Remember,” he said, “your light is stronger than darkness.”
Arun waited outside the Centre the entire day, pacing, whispering prayers.
Two months later the results were declared. Out of thirty students, twenty-eight cleared the entrance, several with top ranks. Newspapers across Jharkhand celebrated the miracle. Parents wept with joy.
Arun stood silently before the cracked walls of the warehouse turned school, eyes moist. Ritika placed a hand on his shoulder. “You did it.”
He shook his head. “We did it every one of us.”
Government officials visited and offered support to expand the model to other districts. Donations flooded in, but Arun remained humble. He refused to commercialize, insisting that the school remain free.
Former students returned during holidays to teach younger batches. The warehouse soon echoed with the confident voices of children who once believed engineering was a rich man’s dream.
Years later, many of those first thirty lamps became engineers, scientists, and teachers. Sunita designed solar lamps for rural homes. Rahul built bridges across Jharkhand’s rivers.
Whenever they visited, they touched Arun’s feet in respect. He only smiled and said, “Pass on the light. That is the true exam.”
The story of Arun Verma and his Thirty Bright Lamps shows that education is the strongest equalizer. With courage, community support, and faith in young minds, even the poorest children can illuminate the future of a nation.