#Nashik
These kids are saying, “Nobody pays attention to us.” All they are asking for is a good road so they can get to school safely.
This Independence Day, let’s pledge to change this.
A man spends 50 years teaching at MIT.
He knows his time is running out.
So he records one last lecture — everything he knows, distilled into a single hour.
He died 5 months later.
This is that lecture.
The most important hour you'll watch this week. 👇
Bookmark it for later
SBI , India's largest bank with 2.45 lakh employees , is now grandstanding about a "major HR overhaul" to tackle employee burnout.
The real hypocrisy is glaring: these same RM-ZM-GM overlords who fancy themselves as HR gurus are utterly clueless when it comes to actual people management. One day they play credit experts, next day valuation engineers or recovery advocates , but in HR? Complete zero. No specialization, just ego-driven arrogance and chamchagiri powered decisions that crush field officers.
While they preach "generational shifts," "digital transformation," and "agile workplaces" from air-conditioned cabins, Branch Managers and frontline staff like us are burning out under:
Arbitrary transfers treated as punishment tools
Endless WhatsApp tyranny and impossible targets
Single-handedly juggling marketing, recovery, insurance, ops, compliance, and customer service
Zero right to disconnect or workload balance between branches and controlling offices
This is not burnout from "modern challenges" it's manufactured by incompetent, hypocritical management that talks empathy but delivers harassment. Fancy jargon won't fix a toxic culture where officers are treated as disposable while top brass enjoys all perks and zero accountability.
We demand real change: a specialized HR cadre with actual expertise, regulated hours, Equal PLI across scales, promotion fairness, and mental health support that isn't just another PR workshop.
Enough of this hypocrisy. The ground reality must be mirrored.
What’s your experience? Speak up , the silence has cost us enough.
@TheOfficialSBI@DFS_India
A Mother Slept In The Open With Her Child.
A Kind Stranger Offered A Mosquito Net And Ration.
Small Acts Of Compassion Show The True Meaning Of Humanity.
If you’re salaried in India, you are one of the most squeezed classes in the country. Understand one thing. You’re not a taxpayer. You’re the government’s ATM. Milked monthly, automatically, before your salary even touches your account.
The farmer negotiates through votes and gets loan waivers, free power, and MSP.
The poor negotiate through electoral weight and receive direct benefit transfers and freebies.
Traders and the self-employed negotiate by lying. They declare whatever income they feel like, and the system shrugs.
Big corporates negotiate in boardrooms and with governments. Policy follows.
And the salaried class cannot negotiate - It follows every rule, declares every rupee, and funds a disproportionate share of the formal economy.
You? TDS takes your money before you see it. You can't defer, structure, or write off one rupee. A businessman buys a car and depreciates it against income. You buy the same car with fully taxed money, then pay GST on top, then registration on top of that.
The asymmetry in one line: businesses are taxed on what is left after expenses; salaries are taxed before expenses begin.
It is already reflected in the numbers - For the first time in over two decades, individuals paid more direct tax than all companies in India combined.
As you can see from these results, the corporate share of direct taxes crashed from 67% to under 47%.
What do you get back? Nothing. Lose your job in Germany, and the state feeds you for a year. Lose your job in Gurgaon, Bangalore, or Hyderabad, and you’re dead to it. No unemployment cover. Hospital bills, yours. School fees, yours. Retirement, yours.
You're not in a social contract. You're collateral in someone else's
Neerja Bhanot, a 22-year-old flight attendant, was on duty aboard Pan Am Flight 73 when it was hijacked during a stopover on 5 September 1986.
The hijackers ordered her to collect the passengers’ passports so they could identify and target individuals of certain nationalities, particularly Americans. Recognizing the grave danger this posed, Neerja, along with other crew members, quietly hid many of the American passports. Some were slipped under seats, while others were discreetly discarded down the rubbish chute, making it far more difficult for the hijackers to single out their intended victims.
After nearly 17 hours of terror, chaos suddenly erupted inside the aircraft. Neerja quickly opened an emergency door. Though she had the chance to escape first, she instead chose to remain behind, heroically helping passengers — especially unaccompanied children — to safety.
Her extraordinary bravery and selflessness cost her her life.
Neerja’s courage not only saved countless lives that day but also played a key role in preventing the plane from taking off.
One of the children she helped, who was just seven years old at the time, later grew up to become a captain for a major airline. He credits Neerja with inspiring his career and says he owes every single day of his life to her sacrifice.
“This is the dead body of our second officer. He died two days ago and his body is decomposing. We reached out to the Indian Embassy but haven’t got a positive response. Our company is hiding from us,” says Indian captain of MT Celestial anchored in Oman
His name is Ranjitsinh Disale.
He wanted to be an engineer. When that did not work out, his father suggested he train as a teacher instead.
In 2009, he was posted to a government primary school in Paritewadi, a small village in Solapur district, Maharashtra. The school was a crumbling building wedged between two storerooms, one of which had been used as a cattle shed.
What he found there troubled him.
Girls were being married off young instead of being sent to class. Attendance was poor. The textbooks were written in a language many of the children, who spoke Kannada at home, could not properly read.
He decided to fix all of it, starting with the books.
He learned the children’s mother tongue and rewrote their textbooks in a language they could actually understand.
Then he did something no one in India was doing at the time.
He printed unique QR codes inside the textbooks, allowing students with access to a phone to scan a page and instantly access audio poems, video lessons and practice questions.
A village school in Solapur had built a digital classroom out of paper and printed squares.
The results changed the village.
Girls’ attendance reached nearly one hundred percent. Teenage marriages in the area stopped. His QR code idea worked so well that the Maharashtra government adopted it across the state.
The following year, the national education body embedded QR codes in textbooks across the country.
In 2020, Ranjitsinh Disale won the Global Teacher Prize. He was chosen from more than twelve thousand nominations across roughly one hundred and forty countries and was the only Indian in the top ten.
The award carried one million dollars, around seven crore rupees.
Then he did something no winner had ever done before.
He announced that he would give away half the prize money, dividing it equally among the other nine finalists so that their work could continue as well.
He said teachers are the real change makers.
He meant all of them, not just himself.
A man who became a teacher only because engineering did not work out changed how an entire country learns, and then gave half his fortune to the people he had competed against.
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