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...

min read

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.

Cricket Loses, Politics Wins

C.S. Krishnamurthy
Oct 2, 2025
4 min read

The Asia Cup 2025 final between India and Pakistan proved that when politics engulfs sport, both lose.

Cricket has always thrived as more than just a contest of bat and ball. For South Asia, it carries the weight of identity, memory, and rivalry. No fixture captures this better than India versus Pakistan. For these two teams, it is an arena where national pride collides with professional sport. Yet the Asia Cup 2025 final in Dubai reminded us how fragile that balance can be. India may have defeated Pakistan thrice in the tournament, including the finals, but the real drama unfolded not on the pitch but on the podium -where the champions did not lift the trophy.

What unfolded was bizarre even by the melodramatic standards of India-Pakistan cricket. After a tense chase, India clawed back from 20 for 3 to secure a five-wicket win. Mohsin Naqvi, Pakistan’s Interior Minister and also chairman of the Asian Cricket Council, waited awkwardly with the trophy in his hands. For over an hour, the Indian team stayed away, refusing to accept the medal. Finally, Naqvi walked off, trophy in hand, leaving fans and commentators stunned. Victory had been reduced to political theatre.

To understand the boycott, one must trace the political undercurrents. BCCI secretary DevajitSaikia was firm that the team would not receive honours from a minister representing a hostile neighbour implicated in terror attacks and inflammatory rhetoric. On the surface, the decision reflects national conviction. After all, how can sport be insulated from bloodshed and hostility?

But contradictions abound. India had already played Pakistan thrice in the tournament, under Naqvi’s very supervision. The BCCI attended meetings he chaired. The players shared the same stage in photo-ops. If principle was truly the compass, the honourable step would have been non-participation from the start. Instead, India competed, dominated and then drew a line at a handshake and a trophy. The gesture was less about conviction than a political stance staged at the wrong moment.

History offers similar precedents. Sporting boycotts, from apartheid-era South Africa to Cold War Olympics, have been absolute and unambiguous. While they certainly carried costs, they at least carried clarity. India’s partial protest – playing with intensity only to reject the ceremonial handshake - emerges as muddled symbolism.

Spirit betrayed

The deeper worry lies in sportsmanship. Cricket has long prided itself on being a gentleman’s game, where rivalries, however fierce, end in gestures of mutual respect. That handshake at the end is no triviality -it is a ritual that elevates competition into camaraderie.

By refusing to engage off the field, India blurred the line between legitimate political protest and professional decorum. It was not Pakistan’s players who authored terror attacks. To snub them at the presentation was to reduce athletes to proxies of their governments. This violates the very spirit of cricket.

Legends have often reminded us of this distinction. Sachin Tendulkar once said that respect for opponents is as vital as runs on the scoreboard. Ian Chappell, never one to mince words, has long argued that mixing sport with politics creates a “recipe for hypocrisy.” The Asia Cup final proved both men right. Fans may cheer Bumrah’s clever imitation of Haris Rauf’s jet-plane celebration, but few would admire a refusal to shake hands.

Former England captain Michael Vaughan once quipped that India-Pakistan matches have more subplots than a Bollywood movie. He was right, but even Bollywood would reject this script for being too twisted.

India had cleaner choices. A complete boycott of the tournament would have been a massive statement, and cost them dearly in terms of preparation for future events, and sent a distinct message. Instead, they chose a middle path that satisfied no one and confused everyone -play the matches, win the tournament, but perform a protest ritual at every opportunity.

The irony thickened when BCCI officials criticised Naqvi for “walking away” with the trophy. To reject a gift and then complain of its removal is akin to declining a wedding invitation and lamenting the absence of dinner. In diplomacy as in sport, consistency matters.

Even more worrying is how easily cricket was militarised during this tournament. Pakistani players imitated fighter jets after wickets; Indians responded in kind. Press conferences dissolved into whataboutery. Even media boxes echoed with war metaphors. When heads of government and administrators dub innings as ‘Operation Tilak’ or ‘Operation Sindoor,’ they stretch the metaphor past breaking point. Cricket is reduced to a proxy battlefield, stripped of its joyous spontaneity. Every time political posturing eclipses athletic brilliance, the game’s spirit dims.

Larger lessons

The Asia Cup 2025 must serve as a cautionary tale. Sport can never be fully insulated from politics, but when politics consumes sport, both lose. The cricketing moments of the tournament -Bumrah’s precision, Samson’s composure, Varma’s poise - were overshadowed by petulance and misplaced symbolism.

India’s players may have felt genuine anger. The Pahalgam terror attacks were fresh wounds. Yet walking away from a trophy did not avenge them; it only diminished the dignity of champions. Once committed, however, professionalism demanded grace.

In the end, cricket is resilient. It has survived wars, corruption, and shifting formats. It will survive this episode too. But the question remains: when did lifting a cup become heavier than lifting the spirit of the game?

Tilak Varma’s controlled 69 not out should have dominated headlines. Instead, newspapers carried images of an unclaimed trophy and a minister leaving with it. For now, the enduring memory of Asia Cup 2025 is not India’s cricketing dominance over Pakistan, but beyond the boundary. And perhaps, that is the saddest scorecard of all.

(The writer is a Bengaluru-basedfreelancer. Views personal.)

1 Comment

QFC Fitzwalter

Nov 03, 2025

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