Lakshmamma

Lives alone, and says that she just needs to boil a handful of rice daily, and so why should she complain. Her daughter she loved, was widowed young, and died suddenly. Her elder son went to work as a construction labourer, and fell and was impaled on an iron rod. Her younger son moved to the city, and just comes to collect his ration rice from her regularly.

But there is only goodness I see in her, and no bitterness against god or man. She advises me on how one needs to share with whoever is hungry, quoteing from the Mahabharatam stories. And this is not just her ... I see this trait in person after person in the village.

What is it that gives the Indian villagers this deep inner strength to anchor goodness against all privations. That is the soul of india we need to reach.