In spite of the stink of badmouthing in the public domain and all the wrongdoers around assaulting an octogenarian fighting against the corrupt, India is not a land of the hopeless. Everywhere I go, I find sparks of progress even among the poorest of the poor. The cobbler, the labourer, the rickshaw puller and the small shop owner. A pandit in Pehova and a farmer in Bijnor. They take loans, curse the administration or the politician, struggle to send their children to the best possible schools they can afford and see them qualifying in IITs, PCS, IAS or becoming pilots. There are pavment dwellers, who have spent their lives eating a chapatti with onion chutney, and never had the privilege of getting a reasonable medical treatment, but they are not out. They are found fighting a battle many of the affluent would have lost after the first step.