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By:

Shoumojit Banerjee

27 August 2024 at 9:57:52 am

Classroom of Courage

In drought-scarred Maharashtra, a couple’s experiment in democratic schooling is turning child beggars into model citizens In the parched stretches of Maharashtra, from Solapur to the drought-hit villages of Marathwada, a modest social experiment has quietly unfolded for nearly two decades. It is neither a grand government scheme nor a corporate-backed charity. Since 2007, the Ajit Foundation, founded by Mahesh and Vinaya Nimbalkar, has worked with children living at the sharpest edges of...

Classroom of Courage

In drought-scarred Maharashtra, a couple’s experiment in democratic schooling is turning child beggars into model citizens In the parched stretches of Maharashtra, from Solapur to the drought-hit villages of Marathwada, a modest social experiment has quietly unfolded for nearly two decades. It is neither a grand government scheme nor a corporate-backed charity. Since 2007, the Ajit Foundation, founded by Mahesh and Vinaya Nimbalkar, has worked with children living at the sharpest edges of society in Maharashtra. The foundation has become a home for out-of-school children, those who have never enrolled, the children of migrant labourers and single parents, and those who scavenge at garbage dumps or drift between odd jobs. To call their foundation an “NGO” is to miss the point. Vinaya Nimbalkar describes it as a “democratic laboratory”, where education is not merely instruction but an initiation into citizenship. The couple were once government schoolteachers with the Solapur Zilla Parishad, leading stable lives. Yet what they witnessed unsettled them: children who had never held a pencil, begging at traffic signals or sorting refuse for a living. Prompted by this reality, the Nimbalkars resigned their jobs to work full-time for the education of such children. Leap of Faith They began modestly, teaching children in migrant settlements in Solapur and using their own salaries to pay small honorariums to activists. Funds soon ran dry, and volunteers drifted away. Forced out of their home because of their commitment to the cause, they started a one-room school where Vinaya, Mahesh, their infant son Srijan and forty children aged six to fourteen lived together as an unlikely family. The experiment later moved to Barshi in the Solapur district with support from Anandvan. Rural hardship, financial uncertainty and the pandemic repeatedly tested their resolve. At one stage, they assumed educational guardianship of nearly 200 children from families that survived by collecting scrap on the village outskirts. Eventually, the foundation relocated to Talegaon Dabhade near Pune, where it now runs a residential hostel. Twenty-five children currently live and study there. The numbers may seem modest, but the ambition is not. Democracy in Practice What distinguishes the Ajit Foundation is not only who it serves but also how it operates. Within its walls, democracy is practised through a Children’s Gram Panchayat and a miniature Municipal Council elected by the children themselves. Young candidates canvass, hold meetings and present their budgets. Children maintain accounts and share decisions about chores, activities and certain disciplinary matters. In a country where democratic culture is often reduced to voting, the foundation’s approach is quietly radical. It treats children from marginalised backgrounds as citizens in formation. The right to choose — whether to focus on sport, cooking, mathematics or cultural activities — is respected. “We try never to take away what is their own,” says Vinaya Nimbalkar. Rather than forcing every child into a uniform academic mould, individual abilities are encouraged. A boy skilled in daily calculations may not be pushed into hours of bookish study; a girl who excels in cooking may lead the kitchen team. For children who have known only precarity, standing for election, managing a budget or speaking at a meeting can be transformative. On International Women’s Day, the foundation seeks visibility not just for praise but for partnership. If you are inspired by their mission, consider supporting or collaborating—your involvement can help extend opportunities to more children in need.

A Winter Script in Nagpur

Nagpur’s curtailed winter session has shown the ruling Mahayuti to be firmly in command as an atrophied Opposition struggled to articulate a counter-narrative.

Maharashtra’s winter session which began in Nagpur this week was billed as the statutory opportunity for scrutiny, argument and legislative give-and-take. Instead, it has unfolded like a show staged with meticulous care by the ruling Mahayuti alliance. While the motions were duly observed, the spirit of contest evaporated almost immediately. The government kept a firm grip on the script while the Opposition, relegated to hecklers in the wings, struggled to command attention, much less influence outcomes.


From the start, the vacant post of the Leader of Opposition (LoP) was the main cause of battle between the Opposition and the ruling Mahayuti. The opposition parties were angry because these top roles were left empty. They felt the government was purposely ignoring them. However, the government said the opposition was just trying to waste time instead of talking about real problems.

 

Advantage Mahayuti

This set the mood for the whole week where it seemed the opposition were more concerned with posts and titles rather than cornering the ruling coalition on actual governance issues. This disagreement helped the ruling team look like they were the ones focused on actually running the state


Into this vacuum strode Devendra Fadnavis, the Chief Minister, eager to dominate the week’s narrative. He unveiled an array of policy intentions: a more muscular Shakti law to tackle crimes against women, a recalibration of traffic-violation penalties, and a hefty demand for supplementary funds to accelerate state projects. The CM’s objective was to keep discourse firmly within the government’s chosen frame and cast the administration as an energetic problem-solver.


Eknath Shinde, the Deputy Chief Minister, played a complementary dual role. In the House, he adopted a hard-nosed posture, brushing aside the Opposition’s protests over the LoP imbroglio as inconsequential distractions. He counterprogrammed with talk of development in Vidarbha, a region routinely coiffed with unfulfilled promises. But backstage, he was preparing for the electoral battles in Mumbai and other municipal bodies, where the Mahayuti must consolidate its gains. His muscular public messaging reassured loyalists and blunted opposition criticism, while he quietly worked the arithmetic of local politics.


Ajit Pawar, the second Deputy Chief Minister and the government’s fiscal helmsman, offered contrast by focusing squarely on numbers. He presented a supplementary expenditure outlay of Rs. 75,286 crore, a package pitched as technocratic and delivery-oriented. In a session otherwise dominated by political jousting, Pawar’s budgetary sobriety offered the alliance an anchor of administrative competence. It allowed the government to claim seriousness even as it choreographed political triumphs. 


Ineffectual Posturing

The opposition, meanwhile, managed sound but not substance. Its leaders protested the shortening of the session from two weeks to one, boycotted the government’s customary tea party and repeatedly raised the vacant LoP issue. These gestures demonstrated displeasure but did little to alter the balance of advantage. They pleased partisan loyalists but failed to resonate more broadly. Without an alternative agenda that might pierce public consciousness, the Opposition watched its complaints absorbed by the ruling alliance’s relentless narrative management.


Two factors explain the Mahayuti’s success in seizing control. First, legislative arithmetic: with a comfortable majority, the government faced little procedural resistance and could compress the session’s duration with minimal cost. This left the Opposition with less time to corner ministers or expose policy gaps. Second, media management: by rolling out ‘big ticket’ announcements, especially on women’s safety, the government ensured that public attention was directed towards themes of action and reform, not institutional imbalance or democratic contraction.


The question arises whether Fadnavis ‘captured’ the winter session? The answer depends on one’s threshold for legislative pluralism. For those who believe assemblies must function as arenas of accountability, the truncation of debate time is troubling. Robust scrutiny is difficult when the clock is shortened and procedural levers remain with the majority. But for those who insist that the state government should deliver swiftly on its legislative commitments, this week’s proceedings might appear as a model of administrative discipline.


Yet victory through compression is not without risks. Repeatedly shrinking legislative sittings could erode the perception of democratic health and embolden the opposition’s narrative of institutional sidelining. If these claims gain traction in the courts or the public sphere, the Mahayuti’s efficiency may be recast as authoritarian impatience. Moreover, grumbles within the alliance, particularly from leaders representing Vidarbha and Marathwada, who claim chronic neglect, could become louder. If intra-alliance frustrations spill over, they may complicate the ruling coalition’s image of cohesion.


For now, however, the government enjoys momentum. The winter session has given the Mahayuti an opportunity to showcase decisiveness, frame legislative priorities and prepare for upcoming municipal polls. The opposition has delivered symbolism, not strategy. Its protests have not coalesced into a critique that appeals beyond partisan boundaries. Until it articulates a coherent agenda rooted in public concerns like inflation, agrarian distress and job creation, it will continue to trail a ruling alliance that has mastered message discipline.


What Nagpur has shown is not merely the government’s dominance but its ability to orchestrate events. By controlling both tempo and theme, the Mahayuti has converted a legislative sitting into a political rehearsal for the months ahead. Whether this performance delivers dividends in the long run will depend on two tests: the efficacy of the laws rushed through this session, and the opposition’s ability to escape its procedural cul-de-sac. For now, though, the stage belongs unmistakably to the ruling alliance, and the winter session looks less like a debate than a production performed to script.


(The writer is a political observer. Views personal.)

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