Report by Aswini Kumar Darjee
Bargarh-“A child’s dream should never be buried because of poverty or pain. We can’t replace a lost parent, but we can ensure they’re not lost to the world.” These aren’t just words. They are the living philosophy of Dibas Kumar Sahu, a humble educator turned change-maker, whose quiet yet revolutionary work in the sunburnt heartlands of western Odisha has rekindled hundreds of dreams once dimmed by grief and poverty.
In the village of Jokhipali, nestled in Odisha’s Bargarh district, Dibas was raised not in wealth, but in values. His father a tailor master, taught him to read not just books—but lives. While others his age set off in pursuit of jobs in the cities, Dibas chose to return to his roots. His path wasn’t paved with ambition, but with purpose.
He became the Cluster Resource Centre Coordinator (CRCC) of Baitali Cluster in Jharbandh block—a role that many saw as administrative, but which Dibas transformed into a mission.
Putukidunguri village, with its paddy fields and mud huts, appears serene. But behind its stillness lie stories of children orphaned too soon, of mothers left to survive on day wages, and of schools where hope flickers dimly. Dibas didn’t wait for data. He walked. He talked. He listened.
That’s how he came across the Patel siblings—Priyanka, Benudhar, and Iswar—who lost both parents in 2020 and were being raised by their aunt, an Anganwadi helper. The family survived on subsidized rice and resilience. But no one had intervened—until 2024, when Dibas did.
He filed a grievance on the Janashunani portal, activating a long-dormant system. His persistence brought the District Child Protection Unit to their doorstep. Within months, the children were registered under official welfare schemes. Sponsorships followed, along with financial aid and educational assurance. It wasn’t charity—it was justice.
Dibas’s impact didn’t stop at one family. In the nearby village of Tumuripani, young Sunena Bariha had dropped out of school after her father’s death. On May 5, 2025, Dibas personally took her for admission to Panchayat High School, Amthi—paying expenses from his own pocket. He promised to stand by her. And he did.
He intervened for Bhelendri Bariha, whose widowed mother couldn’t afford her daughter’s higher education. Dibas contacted the Child Welfare Committee directly, ensuring Bhelendri’s dreams didn’t end with her father’s life.
Each case he handled wasn’t just a report—it was a child’s future.
In Putukidunguri, two girls—daughters of Lal Sahu and Rameshwar Sahu—were struggling to study after their fathers’ untimely deaths. Dibas took their cases to the Collector’s grievance camp, and when responses lagged, he followed up until action was taken. The CWC chairperson personally assured support. As a result, the girls passed their exams. One completed her +2 Science. Another boy, previously out of school, now studies in Class 9.
These were no isolated efforts. Dibas began building a network—bringing together teachers, journalists, Anganwadi workers, and local officials. Some journalists joined hands with him to raise awareness. Teachers began donating portions of their salaries. Retired elders offered tutoring. It wasn’t a program—it was a movement.
Dibas breathed life into defunct government schemes. He revived the bicycle distribution scheme, ensured hostel admissions for girls, and chased down delayed scholarships. He didn’t wait for orders. He made things happen.
In Bijepur block, he found Rashmita—a Class 10 topper with 87% marks who dreamed of becoming a doctor. Her family couldn’t afford her studies. Dibas intervened, secured hostel placement and arranged medical coaching support. Today, Rashmita walks toward a future she once believed was out of reach.
Over just two years, school attendance in his cluster increased by over 40%. Enrollment of girls in higher secondary education nearly doubled. Dropouts returned. Hope returned.
One boy, who was about to become a child laborer, is now preparing for civil services. Two girls who were counted out cleared their matric exams with distinction. Parents started seeing education not as a luxury—but as the only way forward.
Yet, for all the impact, Dibas remains unchanged. He still rides his old motorbike, books strapped to the back. He still visits broken homes and sits on mud floors. He still listens.
One evening, under the shade of a banyan tree, children gathered around him with their report cards. Among them was Sumati—once a dropout, now confident and beaming. She hugged him and whispered, “I want to be a teacher like you.”
That, for Dibas, was the reward. Not awards or applause—but watching a forgotten child dare to dream again.
Today, his work has broadened further. Dibas collaborates with health workers to distribute menstrual hygiene kits to schoolgirls. He leads school sanitation drives. He has introduced vocational training programs in tailoring, basic electronics, and organic farming to equip dropout youths with employable skills.
When asked if he ever plans to slow down, he smiles and says, “There’s still so much to do.”
To the officials, he is an educator. To the villagers, he is a lifeline. To the children, he is simply “Dada.”
Dibas Kumar Sahu doesn’t wield authority or wealth. But he holds something more powerful—conviction. His story proves that change doesn’t always roar through megaphones. Sometimes, it walks through rice fields, rides old motorcycles, and whispers softly into the ears of children who stopped believing.
He didn’t start a revolution with speeches or rallies. He started it by showing up, by caring, by refusing to ignore.
In a world too eager to turn away, Dibas chooses to look closer—at one child, one home, one dream at a time. His story is not just a tale of success. It’s a blueprint of what one person with a burning heart can do when they choose courage over comfort, and service over self.
And in the emerald fields of Odisha, under sun-baked skies and banyan shadows, the revolution continues—on two wheels, with open hands, and an unshakable belief: no child should be forgotten.
