I didn’t think this would stay with me, honestly. I thought I’d just go, take notes, maybe write something about an NGO, and be done with it. But then, I met Sister Dorothy Fernandes — and everything shifted a little.

She wasn’t trying to impress me. No long speeches. No big, dramatic talk about “impact.” She just… talked. In that calm, steady way people do when they’ve been doing the real work for years, and don’t need to prove anything. And before I knew it, I wasn’t just listening — I was feeling it.

“We don’t work for them,” she said. “We work with them. Because dignity doesn’t come from being helped. It comes from being heard.”

Her office is tucked into a narrow, crowded lane along Ashok Rajpath in Patna — the kind of place you’d walk past without realizing something important is happening inside. But it is. You can feel it the moment you walk in.

There are chairs, papers everywhere, people coming in with questions, others leaving with a little less worry on their faces.

It’s not polished — it’s lived-in.

Alive.

She’s been here since 1997. First, working in villages where kids had never stepped inside a school. Then she shifted to the city — to the parts of Patna most people avoid or forget about. Under flyovers. On pavements. In makeshift shelters of blue tarp and sticks. People without homes. Without IDs. Without names the system recognizes.

But when Sr. Dorothy talks about them, there’s no pity in her voice. Just a deep, solid kind of respect.

It wasn’t always like this for her. Before this, she taught at one of Delhi’s most elite private schools. And then she walked away. She came to Bihar, one of the least developed states in the country. Not because she had to — but because she chose to. She felt called to something else. Something that looked a lot less glamorous, and a lot more real.

Now she leads Jan Kalyan Gramin Vikas Samiti — though most people know it as Aashray Abhiyan. It’s not an NGO that shows up for the photo-op and disappears.
They’re in the communities. Daily. Quietly. Consistently. And it’s not about “helping the poor.” It’s about standing beside people and making sure they’re treated like they matter.
Her team does a bit of everything — and by “everything,” I mean the kind of slow, frustrating, underappreciated work that actually holds people up.

They help street vendors apply for space from the Patna Municipal Corporation, making sure they don’t get pushed off sidewalks again and again.

They stand with construction workers and daily wage earners when there’s a wage dispute or someone gets hurt. They go with them, talk to the contractors, make sure someone’s accountable.
They teach tailoring classes to girls in slum communities, not just as a skill, but as a way to start imagining a future. Something of their own. Something earned.

And then there’s this: It was Sr. Dorothy who first pushed the Bihar State Government to set up night shelters — rain baseras — for rickshaw pullers and daily wage labourers. Before that, there were none.
Now, she still personally supervises several of these shelter homes, in partnership with the state government. No big announcement. No press. Just showing up and doing what needs to be done.

“The moment you assume you know better,” she said, “you stop listening. And that’s where real change dies — in good intentions that never asked.”

Their logo is a woman holding a lantern. It’s inspired by Nano Nagle, an Irish woman who once taught poor children, especially girls, in secret, at great risk, when education was banned.

And when you meet Sr. Dorothy, that image makes perfect sense. She’s that kind of quiet light — the one that doesn’t blind or overwhelm. Just steady. Just there.

She’s not on posting selfies on Instagram. She’s not giving TED Talks. She doesn’t need a mic. She’s got a beat-up desk and a team that believes in the work. And that? That’s enough.

“We just try to be there,” she told me. “That’s it. To stay, when no one else does.”

And maybe that’s what real impact actually is. Not some big campaign. Not a flashy slogan. Just someone showing up, again and again, when no one’s watching. Even when they’re tired. Even when it’s hard. Just because they care.
And maybe that’s what change really is too. Not loud. Not exciting. Just… human. Imperfect. Constant.

It made me think — what kind of world are we even hoping for?

And are we paying attention to the people who are already building it — while the rest of us are still figuring it out?

[WRITTEN BY AMAN KUMAR JHA]

NEWSNET INTERN AMAN KUMAR JHA STUDIES JOURNALISM AND MASS COMMUNICATION AT ST. XAVIER’S COLLEGE OF MANAGEMENT AND TECHNOLOGY IN PATNA, BIHAR. THE VIEWS EXPRESSED IN THIS ARTICLE ARE THOSE OF THE AUTHOR AND NOT NECESSARILY THOSE OF THE NEWSNET EDITOR AND STAFF.

  Aashray Abhiyan, Bihar, development, Dorothy Fernandes, human dignity, HUMAN RIGHTS, intern