How One Engineer Changed National Policy

While most of us were navigating ordinary Fridays, India’s Ministry of Home Affairs issued Circular No. 26011/Misc/60/2025-OCI—a document that, in its bureaucratic precision, represented something extraordinary: the culmination of an eight-year campaign by a Boston-based NRI engineer who refused to accept that families should suffer bureaucratic cruelty on top of devastating grief.

The circular’s language was characteristically understated: human remains are ‘cargo,’ not ‘passengers’ under immigration law. Airlines need not demand the deceased’s passport when diplomatic missions have issued authorization. But behind this technical reclassification lay something profound—the transformation of how an entire nation manages the repatriation of its deceased citizens from abroad, affecting potentially millions of families for generations to come.

The architect of this change? Mohan Nannapaneni—entrepreneur, philanthropist, and founder of TEAM Aid. His weapon wasn’t political connections or campaign contributions. It was data. Five thousand cases of repatriation, systematically documented. Families stranded for weeks because a passport was lost in an accident. Airlines refusing transport despite government authorization. The evidence was irrefutable, and so the government acted.

The Pattern No One Else Saw

Most successful technology entrepreneurs retire to advisory boards and investment portfolios. Mohan, after building Sigma Systems Inc. into an Inc. 500 company (ranking #24 in 2000), made a different choice. He started answering crisis calls at 3 AM.

It began with isolated cases—a Telugu family in Seattle whose son died in a car accident, a student in Boston who took his own life, a worker in New Jersey who suffered a heart attack. Mohan would coordinate logistics, call embassies, negotiate with airlines, and often pay costs out of pocket. Ad hoc humanitarian assistance, the kind that generous people offer in moments of crisis.

But Mohan possessed something most generous people lack: a systems engineer’s mind. Where others saw individual tragedies, he saw patterns. The same regulatory barriers appeared repeatedly. The same documentation failures. The same airline refusals. The same families, devastated by loss, then crushed by bureaucratic impossibility.

By 2017, after a decade of informal intervention, he had reached a conclusion: this wasn’t a problem you could solve one family at a time. It required infrastructure.

TEAM Aid: When Compassion Becomes Infrastructure

In December 2017, Mohan formalized what had been organic community support into TEAM Aid (Transitional Emotional and Mental Assistance in Difficulties), a 501(c)(3) nonprofit. The vision was audacious: create a global volunteer network capable of responding to diaspora crises—deaths, mental health emergencies, immigration catastrophes, legal nightmares—with zero cost to families.

Today, that network spans 3,000+ volunteers across 20 countries. They’ve repatriated over 5,000 mortal remains. They prevented the deportation of 2,400 students after Tri-Valley University’s collapse. They’ve intervened in mental health crises, provided legal relief for individuals facing incarceration due to untreated psychiatric conditions, and offered financial assistance when families faced impossible costs.

The operational model is elegant in its simplicity. When a crisis call comes in—through teamaid.org, the hotline, or community referrals—information flows simultaneously to central coordinators and local volunteers. A family in Los Angeles gets support from Spanish or Telugu-speaking volunteers who understand both cultural context and local procedures. A family in Toronto connects with Canadian volunteers familiar with provincial health regulations. Distribution, not centralization, enables speed.

And critically: TEAM Aid assists an average of a dozen families every week, charging nothing. The organization operates on ‘near-zero overhead,’ funded by donations, sustained by volunteers who understand what it means to be vulnerable in a foreign land.

Passport Paradox: When Law Contradicts Logic

By 2024, managing thousands of repatriations, Mohan confronted an absurdity that had calcified into policy. Indian immigration regulations required human remains to arrive with the deceased person’s original passport. Airlines, fearing penalties, enforced this strictly—even when families had obtained official No Objection Certificates from Indian diplomatic missions.

The logic defied reason. Families had government authorization (NOCs) confirming identity and permitting repatriation. But without a passport—often destroyed in accidents, discarded during evacuations, or simply lost—airlines refused. The deceased, by definition, couldn’t renew documentation. Families faced weeks, sometimes months, of delay. Some gave up entirely.

It was bureaucracy at its cruelest: technically defensible, operationally unjustifiable, and profoundly inhumane. And Mohan had the evidence to prove it—hundreds of documented cases where this requirement accomplished nothing except compounding family trauma.

Evidence-Based Advocacy: How to Change Government Policy

Rather than accept regulatory absurdity as immutable, Mohan made a strategic decision: TEAM Aid would advocate for policy reform at the highest levels of Indian government. The campaign, conducted throughout 2024-2025 in partnership with Jaipur Foot USA Chairman Prem Bhandari, was a masterclass in evidence-based advocacy.

They didn’t lead with emotion. They led with data. Formal letters to India’s Home Secretary documented specific cases—timelines, costs, regulatory contradictions. They demonstrated that the passport requirement lacked legal justification under international aviation law, where human remains are classified as cargo, not passengers, and thus don’t require passenger-level documentation.

They coordinated across multiple ministries—Home Affairs, External Affairs, Health—building consensus that reform served India’s diaspora interests. They enlisted diplomatic missions globally to document airline refusals. They maintained persistent, professional pressure.

And in November 2025, the government acted. Prime Minister Narendra Modi, Home Minister Amit Shah, and External Affairs Minister S. Jaishankar personally endorsed the reform. The circular was issued. The barrier was removed.

The Schools That Bear His Name

While TEAM Aid addressed immediate crises, Mohan pursued parallel work addressing systemic poverty through education. Born in rural Andhra Pradesh where educational infrastructure was nearly nonexistent, he understood that opportunity begins with schools.

Beginning in 2001, Mohan and his wife Shama established the Mohan Nannapaneni & Friends Foundation. Their first target: a government school serving 1,000 students in structures so deteriorated that teaching was nearly impossible. Within six months, they mobilized resources for complete reconstruction—furniture for 40+ rooms, clean water, electricity, sanitation, recreational facilities. The school now serves over 1,500 students with infrastructure matching metropolitan facilities.

Two more schools followed in 2008. Total investment: over $350,000. The Andhra Pradesh government, in an extraordinarily rare honor, officially renamed all three schools after Mohan and his wife—a recognition typically reserved for political leaders or historical figures.

Beyond infrastructure, the Foundation has provided full scholarships to 80+ rural students, enabling them to attend IITs, medical colleges, and engineering institutions. Students who might have remained in daily labor now work as engineers, doctors, and professionals globally—many giving back to their communities in turn.

The Dual Life: Why He Didn’t Retire

An obvious question: why continue running Sigma Systems Inc. while simultaneously leading TEAM Aid? Why not retire from business to focus entirely on humanitarian work?

Mohan’s answer reflects pragmatic philosophy. Business success creates both resources and credibility. Remaining engaged in Sigma—still employing 51-200 people, still serving 150+ clients across regulated industries—enables him to understand organizational scaling, financial management, and operational excellence. These aren’t separate skill sets from humanitarian work; they’re directly applicable.

Moreover, continued business engagement maintains financial independence. TEAM Aid doesn’t depend on unpredictable donations or foundation grants. It operates lean, sustained by volunteer networks and modest contributions, because the founder isn’t seeking compensation.

This dual engagement embodies a belief: humanitarian work and business aren’t opposed. Both involve solving problems, organizing people, managing resources efficiently, and achieving measurable outcomes. The only difference is the mission.

The Students Who Don’t Come Home Alive

Late November 2025. Seattle. A 20-year-old Indian student, son of a retired Army officer, took his own life. TEAM Aid, working with the Indian Consulate, facilitated repatriation. Lt. Col. Santokh Singh (Retd.), the student’s uncle, wrote to Mohan: ‘yeoman service,’ ‘peer pressure,’ ’emotional duress.’ The letter was gratitude and grief intertwined.

This wasn’t isolated. Between 2018-2024, 842 Indian students died abroad. Suicides represent a growing share—young men under 25, overwhelmed by academic pressure, visa uncertainties, financial strain, cultural isolation. The stigma around seeking mental health support in South Asian communities compounds vulnerability.

TEAM Aid has intervened in mental health crises, provided legal relief for individuals facing incarceration due to untreated psychiatric conditions, and partnered with counseling centers. But Mohan recognizes this is TEAM Aid’s next frontier—moving from crisis response to preventive intervention.

His message to students and families: ‘Seeking help is a sign of strength, never weakness.’ Simple words, but in communities where mental health carries stigma, they can save lives.

The Awards He Doesn’t Mention

Ugadi Puraskaram (2015): The Government of Andhra Pradesh’s prestigious award for distinguished community service—the first time given to a Non-Resident Indian.

New England Choice Award (2024): Community Service Award, noting the ‘exceptionally high number of nominations’—community recognition translating into formal honor.

But in interviews, when asked about achievements, Mohan doesn’t lead with awards. He talks about families. About the absurdity removed from policy. About students who completed their education because someone intervened at the right moment. About schools that bear his name not because he sought recognition, but because governments wanted to acknowledge transformation.

Why Not AI? The Measured Approach to Technology

An intriguing paradox: Mohan built his fortune in technology, yet TEAM Aid remains fundamentally low-tech—WhatsApp, email, phone calls, human volunteers. No AI-powered chatbots. No predictive analytics identifying at-risk students. No machine learning optimizing logistics.

Why? His answer reflects thoughtful pragmatism. TEAM Aid operates on donations with near-zero overhead—large AI infrastructure investments aren’t feasible. More fundamentally, crisis assistance around death and trauma requires human compassion that technology cannot replicate. An automated chatbot cannot provide what a Telugu-speaking volunteer offers a grieving family. A machine learning system cannot navigate cultural sensitivities of funeral rites.

This isn’t technological skepticism—it’s deliberate prioritization. Where technology accelerates logistics (like the government’s eCARE portal for document submission), embrace it. Where technology might diminish human connection, resist it. Technology should augment compassion, not replace it.

The Monument That Isn’t Made of Stone

Most successful people leave legacies measured in buildings, endowments, or foundations bearing their names. Mohan’s most significant legacy is a government circular—Circular No. 26011/Misc/60/2025-OCI—that most people will never read.

But that circular, informed by evidence from thousands of cases and persistent advocacy, changed how an entire nation manages the repatriation of deceased citizens. It removed bureaucratic cruelty from the most vulnerable moment families face. It will benefit potentially millions of people—most of whom will never know Mohan’s name—for generations.

Three schools in rural Andhra Pradesh bear his name, serving over 3,500 students. Eighty students who would have remained in poverty now work as engineers and doctors. Three thousand families received their loved ones home with dignity, paying nothing. Sixteen individuals facing incarceration received legal relief. Twenty-four hundred students avoided deportation.

This is impact measured not in visibility but in lives changed, systems improved, and unnecessary suffering prevented.

Mohan didn’t revolutionize technology or pioneer new business models. He did something harder: he systematically identified bureaucratic absurdities that caused human suffering, built operational infrastructure to address immediate crises, accumulated irrefutable evidence of systemic problems, and persisted in advocacy until policy changed.
One person. Thousands of cases. Evidence meeting compassion. And a nation’s policy transformed. That’s the monument.

– Naresh Nunna