Beyond Survival and Stigma: Santosh’s journey for Dignity

Santosh Ramsingh Bhonsle, Ahmednagar, Maharashtra

There is an old way of measuring whether a child is ready for school. You reach your arm over your head and try to touch the opposite ear. If you can, you are old enough to be admitted.

Santosh Ramsingh Bhonsle tried. His arm didn't reach. He was six, and he went back to herding goats.

The turn came through two men, Ladkat and Khamkar, who were regulars at his father's setup. One afternoon, his father was out. Santosh refused to serve them on credit. When his father returned, their first words were not a complaint. They were a direction: "Send this boy to school first." The next morning, Santosh enrolled in Class 1, at thirteen. 

The Pardhi community he grew up in has never fully escaped the label British colonial law stamped on them: a "criminal tribe." The stigma outlived the law. His father was falsely accused in a robbery, sent to prison for years, and the family sold their two acres of land to fight the case. At a hostel near Shrigonda, Santosh was dragged into a jungle by fellow students, beaten unconscious, and told: "Pardhi people steal and deny it."

He understood early what his community was up against. When he finished his degree, a government job was within reach. He chose differently.

"I realised that if I took up a government job, I would only improve my own life and that of my family. But who would stand up against the injustices faced by my community?"

The Land That Would Not Move

Santosh joined Econet (which works with tribal and Denotified Tribe communities on rights and livelihoods) through its paralegal fellowship, driven by a simple conviction: people in his community needed to know the law to access justice. As a paralegal, he worked closely with Pardhi families, helping them understand their rights and navigate government systems. Training with We The People Abhiyan followed, in which he learned something specific: how to write applications citing constitutional provisions and government orders that officials were legally bound to answer.

The test came in Loni Vyanknath, when seventy acres of grazing land where landless Pardhi families had lived for decades was handed to a government solar scheme. The families were told to leave. They had nowhere to go.

Santosh filed applications to the gram panchayat, the tehsildar, and the BDO. When no one moved, he took it to court and led an indefinite sit-in at the tehsil office. The court eventually ruled that the homes could not be demolished. The families stayed.

A Community That Speaks for Itself

In 2022, Santosh founded Sahara Sarvangin Vikas Sanstha, working on education, livelihoods, health, and constitutional awareness for Pardhi communities.

The change he is most deliberate about is quieter. He has spent years getting his community into gram sabhas, training people to raise their own issues rather than waiting for someone else to speak. "Before, people didn't even know what a gram sabha was," he says. "Now they go themselves and speak. They don't always speak perfectly. But they speak."

He is now building a training centre where children will learn computers and prepare for competitive examinations. On 26 November 2025, Constitution Day, he installed the Preamble on a marble structure outside his home. He calls it the Samvidhan Katta.

It sits in the most ordinary of places, as a reminder that rights belong to people who know they have them.

The above story has been written and published with the explicit consent of the individual involved. All facts presented are based on WTPA's direct interaction with the individual, ensuring accuracy and integrity in our reporting.