How to do this well. The three examples in the book are national figures whose lives are in every library. This task asks for the opposite kind of research — somebody near enough that you can actually talk to them, or to people who knew them. That is what makes the presentation yours.
Where to look
- Your own school. The oldest teacher, the office clerk who studied at night, the alumnus whose photograph hangs in the corridor.
- Your street and family. A grandparent who was the first in the family to finish school; a neighbour who built a business from a cycle cart; a woman who runs a self-help group.
- The district. The local library’s newspaper file, the panchayat office, the district gazetteer, a municipal award list. Sports associations and hospitals keep records of local achievers.
- The state. Padma award citations, state government press releases, and the archives of your regional newspaper.
How to conduct the interview — five questions that produce a real story rather than a list of praises:
- What did you want to do when you were my age?
- What was the single biggest obstacle, and how old were you when you met it?
- Was there a moment when you nearly gave up? What stopped you?
- Who helped, and how?
- What would you tell a fifteen-year-old who is where you were then?
How to present it — five minutes
Sample answer (an outline, to show the shape): Smt. Kamala Devi, Ward 7, our town. She was married at seventeen and widowed at twenty-six, with two children and no income. In 1996 she borrowed ₹2,000 from a self-help group and began selling pickles from a basket outside the bus stand. The turning point was not the loan but the decision, two years later, to register a licence and buy a second-hand sealing machine instead of expanding the basket — she told me she was “tired of being asked whose pickles they really were.” Her unit now employs eleven women, nine of them from families like hers, and two of her original customers still order by the crate. When I asked what she would tell someone my age, she said: “Do the frightening thing on a Monday. If you wait for a good day it becomes a good year, and then it becomes never.”
Why the local story is worth more than the famous one. Ambedkar, Shastri and Kalam are so far above an ordinary student’s life that they can be admired without being imitated. A woman from Ward 7 is close enough to be copied — and the poem’s claim is precisely about the ordinary person at the foot of the stairs, not about the exceptional one at the top. Notice, too, that Kamala Devi’s advice — do it on a Monday — is Langley’s “first step is the hardest”, translated into something you could act on tomorrow.
Two courtesies that matter. Ask permission before you record or photograph anyone, and show the person what you have written before you present it. A life is not raw material; the interview is itself a small exercise in the respect the chapter has been teaching.