He has not forgotten the forlorn child, standing teary eyed at the Jaipur railway station watching the train hurtle out on snaky tracks. As the Best NCC Cadet he should have worn the epaulettes on his crisp khaki uniform and saluted the President of India at the Republic Day parade in Delhi.

He was the chosen one, it was his privilege. But that morning as the boy hurried to the station with a puffed chest his teacher informed that not he, someone else would lead the school contingent. That humiliation stung the teenager.

He refused to stoop to injustice. He did not board that train. That one moment would change Mahendra Singh Rathore's life forever. He would never go to school again. That one decision would shatter his dream of joining the 61st cavalry, a dream that he had nurtured in the dreary landscape of Jyaani (Nagaur).

Big dreams are not wont to growing in such non-descript villages, not in Jyaani, where only one crop grew. Rathore lived in a thatched hut with 30 other family members and only when the rains came did that one crop of millet turned the buff land green.

His land stayed parched, his life wearisome. His school was 13 kms away and every day he would get huddled in a bullock cart that trudged languorously. The dank school was more of a chore, Rathore did not pick many lessons there; he would soon move some 250 kms away to Khorandi village and then to Jaipur to finish schooling. Rathore has not forgotten the uncertainty that loomed by the railway tracks.

He had dreams, but no education or cues. He stood in a dead alley, he did not even have the option of crossroads. But destiny would soon send that hint in the glib drivers from tour companies who guided foreign tourists around in Pushkar and Nagaur Fair.

He wanted to be like them. And one day Rathore joined as a coach driver in a transport company at Rs 35 a day. That job would stretch to 12 long years, wherein he would save every penny for that transport company which until then inhabited only his dreams.

Driving through the sweltering desert of Rajasthan, Rathore would never miss one thing - to offer prayers at Karni Mata Temple in Deshnouk. Then the day that he had been waiting for arrived - on June 5, 1997, Rathore bought a Tata Sumo, a utility vehicle.

That day was his birthday and he could not have asked for a better gift. That was the beginning of Karni Kripa Travels (www.knowelindiatours.com), a company that in 10 years would have a fleet of 34 cars and 13 luxury coaches. By the time you read this, Rathore's fleet would bloat to 50 cars, the largest in Rajasthan.

The cars, the coaches and the crores did not pour from heaven. Rathore took loan from the bank and repaid it diligently. He repaid one loan and then bought another vehicle until he was capable of buying seven cars in one day.

Another joyous day, out of a showroom 10 white cars drove out to join his fleet. All white cars. All bought the same day. But then when was a pilgrim's path easy? When everything seemed working to perfection, deceit fell his way, a business partner cheated and he lost business worth millions.

"That day I had given up on life, despondent I stood at a bridge ready to jump off to an incoming train. Suddenly I felt as if someone is pulling me by the scruff of the neck…" says Rathore, believing that it was Karni Mata that saved him that fateful day.

Such is his devotion for his deity that his 65 employees do not greet with a hello, they say, Karni kripa. "Everything I have is because of her," adds Rathore who visits the temple twice a year on Durga Puja Navmi. Piety and honesty are his mantra, but in that devout's mind even technology occupies chunks of space.

He innovates and improvises on whim. In his workshop he metamorphosed an ordinary Tata Sumo into a sleek Pajero look alike; he turned the everyday bus chassis to look like a Volvo coach, extending the length by an incredible 4 ft.

As his fleet grew, Rathore envisaged a software that would track all his inventory and orders. As Rathore stands next to his black Mercedes Benz, the 250-gram silver bracelet with his deity's eagle gleams in the afternoon sun.

Rathore knows not how much he has in his bank. He still drives his old car, he never carries money on himself and believes in miracles. He has never taken a holiday, he knows not superciliousness.

For Rathore has not forgotten that child who lived in a thatched hut and took the bullock cart to school… He has not forgotten the teenager who was not intimidated by injustice…Rathore is a man of few words and many morals.

His journey is not about the millions, it is about diligence. And karma.

(www.deepblueink.com)