akrishnarao

Tag: Education

  • From Delhi to Patna: How Student Unrest Reshaped Bankipur

    Even though more than a week has passed since the agitation ignited in the national capital, Delhi, by thousands of students and other forces under the banner of the “Cockroach Janata Party” subsided, its tremors have not yet died down. The situation has not completely settled even after the resignation of Union Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan. The Opposition is stalling Parliament, demanding a statement from Union Home Minister Amit Shah regarding the lathi charge and firing of pellets on the students. It is gathered that the government, unable to introduce key bills apart from minor and insignificant ones, is planning to adjourn Parliament indefinitely as early as possible. Chief Justice of India Justice Surya Kant—who commented two weeks ago, “Why are you showing us scenes of lathi charge on students? Don’t waste our time”—is now enabling the government to withdraw FIRs against the students. Since the Centre itself approached the Supreme Court in this matter, he appears to be offering the government a way to save face.

    On one side, although his fans and BJP leaders are abusing the students with various words, Prime Minister Narendra Modi announced with a very large heart that he has forgiven them. However, this announcement did not yield the expected positive results. Modi and Amit Shah are coming to Parliament, but they are not getting the opportunity to attend both Houses. Surprisingly, officials themselves say that the Home Minister is not coming to Kartavya Bhavan (the seat of the Home Ministry) at all, and is conducting one or two important meetings in his own room in Parliament. The only incident that made Modi very happy during this crisis was being entertained with songs, dances, and a torrential rain of praise on the occasion of the inauguration of Bhogapuram Airport in Andhra Pradesh. But as soon as he returned to Delhi, the situation returned to the same heat!

    It is unknown how long this troubled period will last, but many observers say that the results of the three Assembly by-elections held during this time indicate a coming change in the country’s politics—especially the election results of the Bankipur constituency in Bihar. Bankipur, a constituency under the Patna Sahib Lok Sabha area in the capital of Bihar, became the center of the Cockroach Janata Party agitation. Recently, when students took to the streets across several cities in the country during the NEET question paper leak, its intensity was seen severely in Patna. Demanding the resignation of Union Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan, thousands of students residing in colleges and hostels centered in Bankipur marched out in a procession. Normal life came to a standstill on Ashok Rajpath and Boring Road, where a large number of coaching centers for students are located in the city.

    In Siwan and other key districts, the protest turned violent. Incidents such as lathi charges, stone-pelting, use of tear gas and water cannons, burning of police jeeps, and blockades of national highways took place. Videos of students being injured due to firing with AK-47s were circulated. Police barged into private hostels located in the narrow lanes of Bankipur, dragged out students who had come for coaching, and beat them severely. On the single day of the Bihar Bandh called on July 25, 690 people were detained. Murder charges were framed against many. The surprising fact is that while the Bankipur by-election was on July 30, the Bihar Home Department issued emergency orders on July 27 withdrawing all FIRs against the students. Yet, it was of no use.

    In March 1974, when Patna University students laid siege to the Assembly under the leadership of Jayaprakash Narayan, several students lost their lives in the firing and lathi charge carried out by the police. Afterwards, at a public meeting held at Gandhi Maidan in the presence of lakhs of people, JP gave a call for “Sampoorna Kranti” (Total Revolution). The statue of Jayaprakash built at the crossroads right next to the same Gandhi Maidan in Bankipur stands as a direct witness to recent events. In the surroundings of this area, known as JP Golambar, police once again pounced upon students. Before the Emergency, the JP movement spread from Patna to Delhi. Now, the Cockroach protest from Delhi echoed in the streets of Patna. It is no exaggeration to say that this echo decided the Bankipur election results.

    It goes without saying that in Bankipur, which had been in the BJP’s grip for the past three decades, the winner was not Prashant Kishor, leader of the Jan Suraaj Party that lost all its seats in the previous elections, but the students. It was only because he won five times from here that Nitin Nabin was able to become the BJP National President. The reason he gave up his MLA seat to choose the Rajya Sabha was that the top leaders of that party believed the BJP would win there effortlessly. The comment made by former Union Minister and Patna MP Ravi Shankar Prasad—”Even if a dog is fielded there, the BJP will make it win”—is proof of this. However, the BJP’s vote share plummeted from 62 percent to 34.4 percent in just one year! Because Kayasthas constitute 14 percent of the voters in Bankipur, Nitin Nabin used to win from there, as Bhumihars and Brahmins at 8 percent each, Rajputs at 7 percent, Kurmis at 5 percent, and Kushwahas at 3 percent also used to vote for him. In these by-elections, caste equations failed completely. These results must serve as an eye-opener to politicians who rely solely on caste equations!

    The Bankipur election results are merely a warning that the Bharatiya Janata Party must act with extreme caution hereafter in urban areas with high concentrations of middle-class and upper-caste populations. Bankipur made it clear that educated young voters in this country can influence election results. BJP leaders can no longer remain confident that urban areas like Lucknow, Prayagraj, Kanpur, and Noida in Uttar Pradesh, where elections are due in another seven to eight months, will remain their strongholds as in the past.

    Lekha Chakraborty, a prominent economist and professor at the National Institute of Public Finance and Policy (NIPFP) under the Union Ministry of Finance, attempted to scientifically analyze the students’ agitation. In a study, she expressed the view that just because individuals face similar problems, they do not fight spontaneously; when issues like paper leaks and job insecurity become strong motivators, combined with digital technology, youth unite on a massive scale. She stated that there is no connection between degrees and employment, and that only one-fourth of those with degrees get proper salaried jobs. One-third of the Periodic Labour Force lives on self-employment, and most of them depend on agriculture, earning low incomes.

    The ‘State of Working India 2026’ report released by Azim Premji University also confirms the study conducted by Lekha Chakraborty. It stated that although education has become accessible to sections that did not benefit in the past, meaningful opportunities to convert their qualifications into productive employment are not arising. These studies express deep concern over faculty leaving public universities, the decline in curriculum quality, and the falling value of degrees.

    They make it clear that advanced technology can reduce leaks and increase transparency, but it cannot create labor demand or restore the credibility of educational institutions. Economists themselves say that without increasing the education budget to 6 percent of GDP as recommended by the National Education Policy, and without properly building classrooms, providing teacher salaries and training, creating high-skilled jobs, and restoring the credibility of examinations, the problems cannot be solved. They warn that unresolved discontent provides continuous motivation to the people, and government suppression measures raise the danger level and strengthen collective unity.

    If politicians thought as scientifically as economists think, why would problems turn into crises and water flow under their rugs? Famous historian Will Durant did not remark in vain regarding the fall of the Roman Empire: “Great empires are not conquered from the outside; they destroy themselves from within.”

  • India Produces CEOs — So Why Not World-Class Universities?

    India’s higher education system stands at a strange crossroads. It is one of the largest in the world, enrolling more than 40 million students across over a thousand universities and tens of thousands of colleges. Yet, despite this vast scale, no Indian university has entered the top 100 of the QS World University Rankings 2026. The contrast is stark: institutions like the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Imperial College London, Stanford University, University of Oxford and Harvard University continue to dominate the top positions, while India’s highest-ranked institution remains outside the elite bracket. This is not merely a matter of prestige; it reflects deeper structural weaknesses in research, academic culture, governance and integrity.

    For years, India has witnessed what the Yashpal Committee described as the “mushrooming” of higher educational institutions. The rapid proliferation of private and deemed universities has created an uneven landscape where expansion often precedes quality assurance. While private investment in education is not inherently problematic, the monetisation of degrees and dilution of regulatory scrutiny have led to a system increasingly driven by numbers—student intake, campus size, publication count—rather than substance.

    The obsession with quantity over quality is particularly visible in research. Faculty appraisals, accreditation metrics and institutional branding frequently rely on publication counts. Predictably, this has encouraged the growth of predatory journals, paper mills and unethical authorship practices. India produces a large volume of research output, yet much of it goes unindexed, uncited and unnoticed globally. Academic reputation cannot be manufactured through inflated numbers. It emerges from sustained, rigorous scholarship, peer recognition and intellectual honesty.

    The events at the 2026 India AI Impact Summit exposed this malaise in dramatic fashion. Galgotias University, a private university based in Greater Noida, showcased a robotic dog named “Orion” and presented it as an in-house innovation developed by its Centre of Excellence. Observers quickly identified the machine as a commercially available Chinese-made Unitree Go2 robot. What was claimed as indigenous innovation turned out to be a rebranded product. Following public backlash, the university was asked to vacate its stall. The episode was not just an embarrassment for the institution; it was emblematic of a deeper crisis in academic integrity.

    This was not merely a case of miscommunication. It reflected a troubling culture of spectacle over substance—where exhibitionism substitutes for research, and branding replaces originality. Even more concerning was that the university holds formal recognition and accreditation. The incident therefore raised uncomfortable questions about regulatory oversight and the credibility of quality assurance mechanisms. If institutions can publicly misrepresent commercial products as research achievements, what does that imply about internal review processes, faculty evaluation systems and research verification standards?

    Such episodes damage more than a single university’s reputation. They undermine confidence in the broader academic ecosystem and cast doubt on the authenticity of innovation emerging from India’s campuses. In a global environment where credibility is paramount, even isolated incidents can have disproportionate consequences.

    The crisis extends beyond private universities. Public institutions, including Delhi University and Jawaharlal Nehru University, often struggle with faculty shortages, regulatory micromanagement and constraints on academic autonomy. Academic excellence thrives on intellectual freedom—the freedom to question, dissent, experiment and critique. Without a protected “Socratic space,” universities risk becoming instruments of conformity rather than engines of innovation.

    The government’s recent push under the National Education Policy 2020 to internationalise higher education, including inviting foreign universities to establish campuses in India, is presented as a corrective measure. The logic is that global competition will raise standards and retain students who otherwise go abroad. While the entry of foreign institutions may offer new opportunities, it cannot substitute for systemic reform. Reputation cannot be imported. Research culture cannot be franchised. Institutional excellence requires long-term investment in faculty, laboratories, research funding and governance transparency.

    India’s research expenditure remains below 1% of GDP, far lower than that of leading knowledge economies. Faculty–student ratios remain unfavourable in many institutions due to mass enrolment without proportional recruitment. Graduate unemployment signals a misalignment between curriculum and employability. International students hesitate to choose India because of inconsistent quality, bureaucratic hurdles and limited post-study opportunities. These are structural challenges that branding exercises or regulatory tweaks cannot solve.

    The fundamental issue is not international rankings; it is credibility. Global citations, academic reputation and foreign student enrolment are outcomes—not starting points. They reflect the underlying health of an academic system. When plagiarism is normalised, when publication quantity outweighs research quality, when political conformity eclipses intellectual autonomy, and when institutions chase spectacle instead of scholarship, rankings merely mirror the reality.

    Yet the paradox persists. India has outstanding institutions like the Indian Institutes of Technology, Jawaharlal Nehru University, the Indian School of Business and the Delhi School of Economics. It has produced global leaders such as Satya Nadella and Sundar Pichai. If such excellence exists, why does the overall system still struggle to match the standards of leading universities abroad?

    The answer lies not in individual brilliance but in systemic structure. India has islands of excellence, not a uniformly strong academic ocean. Elite institutions admit the top fraction of students through fiercely competitive examinations. They function well because they select exceptional talent, attract relatively stronger faculty and receive better visibility and funding. But the broader ecosystem—thousands of universities and colleges—does not operate at that level. Global standards are determined by depth across tiers, not by a handful of elite outliers.

    The global success of figures like Nadella and Pichai reflects the strength of Indian talent. But their achievements were shaped by exposure to advanced research ecosystems, institutional autonomy and well-funded innovation environments abroad. Brilliant individuals can emerge from imperfect systems. Sustainable global academic reputation, however, requires robust institutions—equipped with research funding, intellectual freedom, ethical discipline and long-term vision.

    The Galgotias episode should therefore be read as a warning, not an anomaly. It illustrates what happens when numbers overshadow knowledge and image overshadows inquiry. If India aspires to become a genuine global education hub by 2047, as policy frameworks suggest, it must first address the foundations. Quality must precede quantity. Autonomy must accompany accountability. Research must value impact over volume. And merit must prevail over spectacle.

    There is no shortcut to academic reputation. It cannot be engineered through branding or borrowed prestige. It must be built patiently, through integrity, intellectual courage and sustained investment. Only then will India’s vast educational system match the brilliance of its people.

  • Rethinking Tax Devolution in Uneven India

    India’s fiscal federalism is facing a moment of quiet but consequential strain. Chief Minister N. Chandrababu Naidu’s remarks on tax devolution have once again brought to the surface a long-simmering grievance among better-performing states: that they contribute disproportionately to the Union’s tax kitty but receive a shrinking share in return. The data broadly supports this sentiment. A small group of economically advanced states account for the bulk of direct tax and GST collections, while a significant share of tax devolution flows to poorer, high-population states. However, for the country to prosper, all its regions have to prosper, Naidu said in an interview on Sunday with PTI Videos, adding that the states are allies, not enemies.

    Yet, framing this issue simply as “performers versus non-performers” risks obscuring a deeper structural problem. The real question is not whether redistribution is justified—it is—but whether India’s current system of fiscal transfers is equipped to handle the vastly different development trajectories its states have chosen.

    Finance Commissions are constitutionally mandated to address horizontal imbalances among states. Inevitably, this means that poorer states such as Uttar Pradesh, Bihar, and Madhya Pradesh receive a larger share of devolved taxes.Poorer states like UP, Bihar and MP received 36% of the tax  meant for sharing with the states. Against this, these three states contributed only 5% of the total direct tax and Central GST collected by the Centre during that period. This is neither accidental nor malicious; it reflects the principle that citizens should have access to comparable public services regardless of where they live. From this perspective, redistribution is not a penalty on success but a cornerstone of national unity.

    However, this logic begins to fray when redistribution appears perpetual and weakly linked to outcomes. Southern and western states that invested early in education, health, and population control now find themselves disadvantaged by formulae that give significant weight to population size and income distance. Their success in managing fertility and building human capital—once seen as national assets—now translates into lower relative shares. This creates a perverse incentive structure and a growing political resentment.

    Complicating matters further is the Centre’s increasing reliance on cesses and surcharges, which lie outside the divisible pool. While the official share of states stands at 41 per cent of Union taxes, the effective share is considerably lower. States are being asked to shoulder expanding responsibilities—especially in health, education, and infrastructure—without commensurate fiscal space. It is unsurprising, then, that demands are growing to raise the states’ share to 50 per cent.

    Yet, linking devolution directly to tax contribution alone would be equally problematic. Tax collections reflect not just effort but historical advantages, agglomeration effects, and the location of corporate headquarters. A purely contribution-based system would risk locking poorer states into a low-development trap, undermining both equity and long-term national growth.

    The way forward lies in recognising that India is attempting to achieve too many objectives with a single instrument. Tax devolution is being asked to equalise, incentivise, and reward all at once—and predictably, it satisfies none fully.

    A more mature framework would separate these goals. A core equalisation transfer should continue to ensure minimum fiscal capacity for all states. Alongside this, a distinct performance-oriented component could reward states for expanding the national economic pie—through growth, tax effort, infrastructure creation, demographic management, and human capital outcomes. Such a structure would acknowledge both need and contribution without pitting one against the other.

    Equally important is addressing sectoral imbalances. States like Kerala, which prioritised social development, now face infrastructure constraints. Others, like Gujarat, built strong physical infrastructure but lag in social indicators. Poorer states struggle on both fronts. A dedicated, outcome-linked national infrastructure fund—outside routine tax devolution—could help bridge these gaps without distorting the principles of redistribution.

    India’s diversity in development paths is a strength, not a flaw. But managing that diversity requires fiscal institutions that are transparent, differentiated, and forward-looking. Unless redistribution is paired with clear incentives and a fair sharing of resources, political “heartburn” will only intensify.

    The choice before India is not between rewarding success and supporting the vulnerable. It is about designing a federal compact that does both—openly, credibly, and sustainably.