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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.

Capital in Limbo: Why America’s Government Shuts Down So Often

America’s peculiar mix of politics and procedure can bring its own operations to a halt on occasion.

Every few years, news outlets around the world announce that the United States government is “shutting down.” For readers in India, or indeed anywhere outside the United States, the phrase conjures images of a country grinding to a halt. Think of planes being grounded, banks closed and cities paralyzed. In reality, the ‘shutdown’ is far less dramatic than it sounds. It is the result of a peculiarly American political process that intertwines the nation’s budgetary rules with the ideological brinkmanship of its lawmakers.


To understand why Washington occasionally comes to a standstill, it is worth revisiting the structure of the American government. The United States is a federal republic where power is shared between the national government and fifty states. At the federal level, authority is divided among three branches. The executive, led by the President, enforces laws and the legislative, embodied in Congress, drafts laws and authorizes government spending. The judiciary, culminating in the Supreme Court, interprets them. Unlike parliamentary democracies like India or the United Kingdom, this separation of powers is designed to prevent any one branch from exercising too much authority.


It is in the interaction between the executive and Congress that the seeds of shutdowns are sown. Unlike the Indian Union Budget, which is introduced by the finance minister and voted on in a single legislative chamber, the U.S. budget must pass through two houses: the House of Representatives, dominated by 435 members, and the Senate, with 100 senators. Only after both houses approve the budget does the president sign it into law. If disagreements arise between the two houses - or between Congress and the President - spending authority stalls.


Antideficiency Act

The U.S. fiscal year begins on October 1. By that date, Congress is expected to have approved a series of appropriations bills funding federal departments and agencies. Failure to do so triggers a government shutdown. Legally, this is not a question of insolvency. America has money. Its coffers are flush with tax revenues and borrowing capacity. The problem lies in the Antideficiency Act, a statute that forbids federal agencies from spending without congressional authorization. When lawmakers fail to provide that authorization, large swathes of government must halt operations.


However, not everything stops. The government distinguishes between ‘essential’ and ‘non-essential’ activities. Military personnel, border patrol agents, air traffic controllers and Social Security administrators continue their work, often without immediate pay. By contrast, national parks close, passport and visa services slow to a crawl, federal loan programs pause, and many civil servants are furloughed. While the result is a formidable disruption, it does not amount to a total collapse. During the 2018–2019 shutdown - the longest in U.S. history thus far - some 800,000 federal workers went without pay for more than a month, yet planes still took off, Medicare payments still arrived, and the military remained fully operational.


Since the modern rules came into effect in 1976, the U.S. has experienced 22 shutdowns. Most were brief, lasting only a day or two, often timed around Christmas or fiscal deadlines, serving as leverage for political bargaining. Yet the frequency is exceptional by global standards. In India, for example, if Parliament fails to pass the budget, interim arrangements allow the government to continue spending. Most countries, including the United Kingdom, Germany, Japan, and Australia, have similar contingency mechanisms that prevent shutdowns. The American model is unusual in tying government operations so tightly to a single legislative act.


Political theatre

Why, then, do shutdowns occur so often? At their heart, they are political theatre. Because both parties must agree to pass a budget, disagreements become leverage. One faction might demand cuts to welfare programs; another may insist on increased funding for healthcare or defence. Occasionally, budget bills become bargaining chips for unrelated policy disputes like immigration, abortion, climate regulation, or even foreign aid. Each party uses the threat of a shutdown to project strength to its base, demonstrating resolve in ways that often frustrate the public. When a compromise has finally been reached, furloughed workers receive back pay, national parks reopen and daily life resumes. That is, until the next budgetary battle.


State governments, however, generally do not shut down. States in America collect their own revenues through income taxes, sales taxes, and other sources, meaning they can fund operations independently of Washington. Still, states are dependent on federal transfers for key programs such as healthcare, education, and infrastructure. During shutdowns, some states have temporarily bridged the gap, paying to keep national parks open or maintaining welfare programs to prevent disruption. California, for instance, reportedly allocated state funds in 2013 to keep Yosemite National Park accessible to tourists when federal operations were suspended.


Shutdowns are sometimes confused with the nation’s debt ceiling debates. America’s national debt, which is over $34 trillion, or roughly 125 percent of its gross domestic product (GDP), is the highest in its history. Yet debt itself is normal: Japan, for example, has debt exceeding 260 percent of GDP, Germany about 65 percent, and India roughly 82 percent. A shutdown does not indicate insolvency or default; it signals that elected officials have failed to agree on how to authorize spending. The real global concern arises only when Washington threatens not to pay interest on its debt, which would constitute a technical default—a scenario narrowly avoided on several occasions.


Historical examples illustrate the peculiar dynamics of American shutdowns. In 1995–1996, Republican Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich clashed with President Bill Clinton over spending on Medicare and education, resulting in a 27-day closure of federal agencies. In 2013, debates over the Affordable Care Act led to a 16-day shutdown under President Barack Obama. The 2018–2019 standoff centred on funding for a border wall proposed by Donald Trump in his first term as President left hundreds of thousands of federal workers unpaid for five weeks. Each episode, while politically charged, highlighted the idiosyncrasies of the U.S. legislative system rather than fiscal incapacity.


For the world, these shutdowns are largely symbolic. While they inconvenience domestic travellers, disrupt federal programs and create headlines, they rarely have catastrophic consequences. Foreign markets may twitch at the news, and U.S. political dysfunction can briefly rattle confidence, but essential services including the military, financial systems and debt payments, continue.


In essence, America’s government shutdowns are less about money than about politics. They reveal a system designed for checks and balances that sometimes becomes its own obstacle course. They dramatize the tension between an empowered legislature and an independent executive. And while the United States can survive even when the machinery of government pauses, the spectacle itself is a warning of the fragility inherent in a highly decentralised democracy.


For Americans, shutdowns are a recurring inconvenience; for the world, they are a reminder that even the most robust systems can be temporarily paralyzed by political brinkmanship. And for students of governance, they provide a uniquely American case study in how institutional design shapes the behaviour and occasionally the tantrums of elected officials.


(The author is an Indian-origin US citizen residing in Washington DC. Views personal.)

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