Seven-year-old Jagannath was rendered permanently handicapped.No help was forthcoming from the Railways. The state government sanctioned him the token telephone booth. Schools refused him education. They said he could not write.

Another social pariah was created.

Now, at 35, Jagannath is unmoved by the media attention rail victim Jayabala Ashar is drawing. The only truth for him the same society passed him by. ``I will never forget what my parents did for me. My father pawned his clothes and belongings to pay my medical bills. At a time when relatives were urging him to give up on me,'' says Jagannath with feeling.

During those trying years, Jagannath plugged away at a skill few in his condition would have dreamed of mastering. He learned carrom. The sport nowhelps him hold a job at Kamat's Klub, Goregaon. His boss PN Tarachandani, executive director at the club says, ``We decided to hire Jagannath soon after we saw his unique abilities.'' Jagannath coaches members at the club in carrom and table tennis (he holds the racket by inserting it in the strap of his watch)

.Jagannath must be the only one-fingered carrom or table tennis coach/player in the world!

Just when a happy ending seemed likely, Fate has gone and pulled the rug again from under Jagannath's feet. The decision by the Indian Carrom Federation this May to ban ivory strikers, to appease the environment lobby headed by Maneka Gandhi, has endangered Jagannath's coaching assignment. He cannot come to terms with the new fibre strikers. ``My judgment with the new striker is atrocious. It either travels too slow or fast.'' He wishes an unlikely wish: the carrom body should register all existing ivory strikers (he has four) and allow senior players to continue using them.

Jagannath's romance with carrom,which he described in an August 28, 1991 letter of appeal to Chief Minister Sudhakarrao Naik as the `one art that is helping me by providing me with some cash prizes,' started after the family moved to Kannamwar Nagar, Vikhroli. He would steal away from home to one of the many carrom clubs (Later, he was to start his own Vinayak Carrom Club with two boards. Players can bet Rs 1-2, with the loser giving up his deposit. The club has since closed down).

He was participating in open tournaments in no time, and won a couple of championships in 1991. These wins are the rare happy moments in his dark life. ``When players with two hands lose to me, they feel really bad,'' he says with a laugh. He remembers another: ``Sandeep Patil, the cricketer, saw me play once at Shivaji Park. I didn't know he was looking, but he left behind a Rs 1,000 gift for me.'' Those gifts help, acknowledges Jagannath. After his father's death in 1982, he has had to bring up a family of six. The Rs 25 a day from the booth is just notenough.

Now, with his special skill threatened, Jagannath prays he can continue to hold his coaching assignment. He has to learn to adapt to the new strikers, in the same way he learned to button his shirt, comb his hair, eat his food and wear his shoes. Ask him what he finds most difficult to do, he says, ``Nothing is really difficult. Only, it (my hand) looks really bad.''