Story of My Autobiography ‘Diyasalai’ – A Matchstick

I have been overwhelmed with the love and support being showered on my autobiography Diyasalai (matchstick), which was released at the Jaipur Literature Festival last month. The book has sparked several discussions and dialogues. There is another important event tomorrow around Diyasalai, where the former President of India, Ram Nath Kovind Ji, will be the chief guest. Padma Bhushan awardees and several other distinguished scholars will also be a part of the event.

It took me 10 years to write Diyasalai, and let me tell you why I chose this particular title. It comes from a deeply personal space. I grew up in a home without electricity, relying on lanterns for light. A single diyasalai (matchstick) held the power to illuminate an entire room. That tiny flicker always amazed me. A diyasalaimay seem small and inconsequential, yet once ignited, it spreads warmth and light selflessly, without expectation. This metaphor has shaped my life’s work.

The soul of my atmakatha is Compassion in Action. And compassion, for me, is not empathy or kindness. It is feeling the suffering of others as if it were one’s own and taking an action to resolve them. In other words, compassion is mindful problem-solving. Take a diyasalai, for instance. Its life is not simple at all. It burns itself in order to light up the world, and I will share a few anecdotes that show how compassion has the power to convert challenges and obstacles into opportunities which then pave the way for sustainable and concrete solutions.

In 1981, I was writing, editing and publishing a magazine titled Sangharsh Jaari Rahega. At a time when child labour was a non-issue in public consciousness, I was writing about the lives of the most marginalised communities of the country. That led a man named Wasal Khan to me, whose daughter Sabo was about to be sold to a brothel. I asked myself, ‘What if Sabo was my daughter?’ It was compassion that prompted me and my colleagues to rescue her and 35 others from slavery. In the process, we were beaten up and attacked, but that did not break us. That was the first-ever documented rescue initiative in India led by civilians, which gave birth of a global movement against child labour.

Changing the mindset of people and convincing them to accept these children was an even bigger challenge. Whenever we would rescue the kids from slavery and abuse, we would enroll them in schools. Till there came one day when school headmasters refused to admit former child labourers. I was appalled and angry that there was no legal recourse to ensure that every child can receive education, nor was education as a right penned down in the Constitution. I then decided – why not ask for an amendment in the Constitution itself? We led marches, organised campaigns, met members of Parliamentto put forth our demand. Our efforts paid off when the Constitution was amended to make education a fundamental right and subsequently the law was passed.

But do you know how difficult it was to organise these marches? People thought I had lost my mind when I proposed organising the Global March Against Child Labour in 1998. We did not have the requisite funds, no connections, and figuring out logistics to organise a march that would cover 80,000 kms across 103 countries seemed impossible. But I believed in the innate power of compassion in people. As a result, 71 Heads of States and millions of people physically joined the march and made the impossible possible. The historic marchresulted in the adoption of the ILO Convention 182 on the Worst Forms of Child Labour, which went on to become the only universally ratified convention in the history of ILO.

It was also a time when there was no legal recourse or awareness among consumers to prevent children from being employed in manufacturing and supply chains. During one of the raid-and-rescue operations at the Mirzapur railway station, the police caught and locked me up for a night. The prison cell was dark, dingy and it was stinking. Sitting there, I was furious. But as the hours passed by, I calmed down and thought – how do I make consumers aware about this social ill, while at the same time hold the companies responsible? Instead of calling for a total boycott, I advocated for the introduction of a new system in the world to ensure that a brand or organisation does not employ child labour in their supply chain. Thus GoodWeave, a social labelling mechanism, was launched that gave impetus to Corporate Social Responsibility and ethical consumerism.

There are countless such incidents in Diyasalai that highlight the transformative power of compassion. No policy, law or structural reform can bring sustainable change unless we hold ourselves morally responsible and accountable towards the problems of sufferers. That is why I, along with Nobel Laureates, world leaders and practitioners, have launched the Satyarthi Movement for Global Compassion, which envisions globalisation of compassion.

If I can ignite the spark of compassion in others, I know I have fulfilled my purpose. As I present Diyasalai to you, know this: it is not just my story. It is the story of an ordinary man who dared to dream and was joined by millions to fulfill that dream. Each of us is a diyasalai—small, yet powerful enough to light the way for others. The question is: will you ignite your spark?