They make Chandigarh better. Here’s their story

At a time when public service often seeks attention, a group of lawyers at the Punjab and Haryana High Court chose a different path. FEED Goal works quietly, with steady intent and little noise.

Short for Forum for Environment and Enlightening Discussions, the initiative grew after trees near the High Court complex were cut. Many lawyers felt unsettled, but had no shared platform to respond. FEED Goal became that response, rooted in action rather than argument.

Advocate Tanu Bedi, one of its key members, is clear in the group’s vision: This is neither charity nor activism, it is a responsibility.

Weekly Enlightening Discussions now give young lawyers space to talk about civic sense, environmental care and ethics in everyday practice. The idea is to build habits, not slogans.

On World Environment Day, those conversations turned practical. Lawyers, judges and court staff cleaned the campus and planted saplings. Follow up drives have added nearly 150 plants so far. Judges joined in themselves, setting the tone through example.

Other small steps followed. A screening of ‘12 Angry Men’ sparked reflection on conscience and justice. Jute bags were distributed to reduce plastic use. A Green Commute Day encouraged walking and public transport. Members have also adopted and named plants on campus, turning one day efforts into ongoing care.

FEED Goal offers a simple lesson. Change does not always begin outside. Sometimes it starts by tending to your own space and letting others follow.

While laws promise the right to community living, reality often falls short. Without government supported group homes, families are forced to choose between unaffordable private care and unsuitable shelters.

Citizens for Inclusive Living, or CIL, is a Chandigarh-based collective working to fill this gap. It brings together over 100 families, mental health professionals, educators, students and social workers, many of whom came together after facing the same hard question. Who will care for our children when we no longer can?

CIL decided to focus on this single right. Over seven years, it has engaged the UT Administration through representations, public campaigns, media advocacy and legal action, including petitions before the high court. That persistence has led to the first government-supported group home in Chandigarh for persons with mental health conditions. The facility is still evolving and access remains a concern, but advocates see it as an important beginning.

The collective is anchored by a small group of consistent contributors, including Aditya Vikram, D R Paul, Dr Adarsh Kohli, Dr B K Waraich and Neelu Sarin. They stress that progress has come through shared effort, not individual credit.

Bright Sparks School in Phase 11, Mohali, looks modest. Inside, it holds possibility.

Rajdeep Kaur arrived there almost by chance. After 19 years in the corporate world, she stepped away in 2023. One visit to Bright Sparks stayed with her. The children’s curiosity and hunger to learn pulled her back.

What began as spoken English classes soon deepened. She helped design learning material, strengthened outreach and became part of the school’s daily rhythm. For her, this work is not driven by guilt. It comes from belief. Early education, done with care, can change entire families.

At Bright Sparks, learning goes beyond textbooks. The school focuses on raising thoughtful, responsible children, not just good students. Support does not end after Class 5. Children move on to private or government schools, with fees and guidance continuing through higher classes.

Rajdeep Kaur worries that education today often values performance over wellbeing. At Bright Sparks, she works to protect the joy of learning and keep pressure at bay.

Values are woven into everyday life through games, workshops and shared celebrations. Children grow up respecting difference not as theory, but as lived experience.

Her most rewarding moments come when former students return, confident and self-assured, now in college or skill programmes. They know someone who believed in them early.

Most animal welfare work begins with an emergency call. Peedus People starts much earlier, before suffering has a chance to set in.

Founded in 2016 by Inder Sandhu, a mechanical engineer who returned from the US after losing his pet, the Chandigarh-based organisation is built on teamwork rather than personality. The focus is simple and steady: prevent harm instead of reacting to it.

Rescue is part of their work, but it is not the centre. Peedus People prioritises mass vaccination, sterilisation, humane education and policy enforcement. Their efforts cover dogs, cats, cattle, horses, pigs, sheep, goats and even animals used in experiments.

One of their most visible initiatives is the Puppy Free Zone programme. Entire neighbourhoods are covered through focused sterilisation drives, stopping unwanted litters and the cycle of abandonment. The programme now runs across eight sectors of Chandigarh, including the Golf Club belt, and parts of Mohali.

Education is just as central. Teams regularly visit schools and colleges to talk about animal behaviour, rabies prevention and safe interaction. Since its founding, the organisation has reached nearly 350 schools and over two lakh children, carried out around 4,000 vaccinations and supported about 3,000 surgeries.

Peedus People has also played a key role in reducing cruelty to horse drawn carts in Chandigarh, helping push policy changes that made the city the first in India to mandate their registration. Overloading and illegal spike bits have since declined sharply.

By the time most of the city wakes up, Vipin is already on his bike. At 6 am, often without breakfast, he begins chasing targets through traffic and narrow lanes. Like thousands of delivery workers, his day is counted not in hours, but in numbers. Sixty orders stand between him and rest.

Most days stretch eight or nine hours, sometimes longer. Miss the target and fuel comes from his own pocket. Accidents, delays or damaged parcels leave little room for explanation. Customers rarely see the risk. Sometimes there is a small tip. Often, there is just a closed door.

Vipin is 18. He studies while supporting a family of seven. His mother had to stop working after a serious liver illness. His father works in a factory. For Vipin, this job is not a side hustle. It is survival.

He does not complain. He speaks plainly about what he hopes for: fairer targets, safer conditions, steady pay. He also dreams beyond this life. One day, he wants to wear a uniform and serve as a soldier.

Workers like Vipin keep the convenience economy running. They bring food, medicine and essentials to our homes, often at real personal cost. Yet their long hours, unstable incomes and lack of security rarely enter everyday conversation.

This is not about pity. It is about recognition. Every delivery carries someone’s effort and risk. A city that depends on them owes them safer, fairer working conditions.

For Nidhi Anand, fostering animals was never a decision. It was simply how life unfolded.

She grew up around cats and dogs, without fear or fuss. Empathy came naturally. One memory, though, shaped her deeply. As a schoolgirl, she watched a young dog die slowly of rabies. Instead of turning away, she leaned into care.

Over the years, her Tricity home has quietly become a refuge. She lives with several cats of her own and regularly fosters kittens and dogs. She does not charge for it and avoids calling it charity. For her, it is about being there when an animal or a family needs a safe pause.

Adoptions do not end with paperwork. Families know they can return with questions or concerns. Support continues. The door stays open.

The journey was not easy. There was a time when vet care for cats was scarce and Indian cats were dismissed as wild or unwanted. With no online guides or ready networks, she learnt slowly through experience and shared knowledge.

Her larger contribution lies in changing perception. Cats, often ignored or misunderstood, are now being adopted more readily across the Tricity. She sees attitudes shifting, quietly and steadily.

Nidhi Anand shows how real service often happens in ordinary spaces, one rescued life at a time.

Supreet Dhiman meets a lot of people who say the same thing when they sit down with her. I’m tired, but I don’t know if I’m allowed to feel this way. Teenagers worried about exams, professionals stretched between work and home, new mothers adjusting to change, and senior leaders carrying quiet stress all turn up with similar concerns.

A trained mental health professional, Dhiman believes well-being is not about being happy all the time or escaping pressure. It is about slowing down, understanding emotions, setting boundaries and making thoughtful choices instead of constantly reacting. In her work, she often sees how guilt keeps people stuck, pushing themselves too hard, saying yes too often, and ignoring their own needs until anxiety or burnout catches up.

Her journey into mental health began with research on incest and family-based abuse in India, where she saw how shame and fear stop survivors from speaking up. The experience shaped her belief that emotional distress is still misunderstood and brushed aside in Indian society.

After the pandemic, Dhiman trained with the UK’s National Health Service and qualified with the British Association for Behavioural and Cognitive Psychotherapies. She has since delivered over 1,000 therapy sessions in India and overseas.

She now runs Shaping Destiny, a mental health and wellbeing initiative working with individuals, colleges and workplaces across the Tricity.

Dhiman is also developing a year-long training programme, aligned with NHS protocols, to prepare psychology graduates for clinical practice.

At the centre of her work is a simple message. Mental health is not about staying strong at all costs. It is about learning when to pause, ask for help and take care of oneself without feeling guilty.