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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.

Green Rage in Sacred City

The proposed felling of trees in Nashik’s Tapovan has turned into a major political liability for the BJP ahead of the civic polls.

The religious city of Nashik, preparing to host the massive Simhastha Kumbh Mela, has instead found itself at the heart of a bitter political and environmental storm. The flashpoint is the proposed cutting of nearly 1,825 trees in the sacred Tapovan area to make space for the ‘Sadhugram’ - the temporary settlement for holy men. This seemingly local decision by the Nashik Municipal Corporation (NMC) has rapidly ballooned into a political crisis, putting Maharashtra’s Chief Minister, Devendra Fadnavis and his ruling Mahayuti coalition under immense pressure.


The Fadnavis government is struggling to manage a public relations disaster that threatens to derail its agenda and expose deep cracks within the alliance amid the ongoing local bodies’ elections.


Environmental Furore

The controversy blends environmental sensitivity with religious sentiment and commercial suspicion. Tapovan is considered the green lung of Nashik, a zone revered by locals as a site associated with Lord Ram’s exile. The city’s residents, supported by activists, view the trees as part of their heritage and their ecological defence against rising pollution and erratic weather. The breaking point came when the NMC not only announced the tree-felling for the Kumbh Mela preparations but also simultaneously floated a tender for a massive, permanent Rs. 220 Crore MICE Hub (business centre) on the very same holy ground. This dual action instantly fuelled public scepticism, leading to the inescapable conclusion that the government body was allegedly using the temporary need of the Kumbh Mela as a smokescreen to clear precious, holy land for a major commercial project. The citizens felt betrayed, believing their environmental and spiritual values were being sacrificed for a business deal. The scale of the proposed loss which involves the cutting of 1,825 trees has sparked a spontaneous, Chipko-style protest, with citizens physically embracing the trees marked for destruction.


Administrative Misstep

School children, local Hindu organizations, and environmental groups have all joined the agitation, turning the issue into a non-partisan battle for the soul of the city. The initial response from the government was slow, clumsy and politically defensive.


As leader of the state, Fadnavis had the opportunity to immediately step in, halt the process, and order a transparent review, thereby demonstrating environmental leadership and respect for public sentiment. Instead, the response was marked by a delayed and often contradictory defence. While the Chief Minister eventually stated that the government was opposed to “unnecessary cutting of trees,” he simultaneously attempted to downplay the severity, arguing that the land was largely vacant during the previous Kumbh Mela and that many trees were young plantations. This ham-fisted defence failed to address the core concern of the proposed commercial MICE Hub and the feeling that a local, sacred ecosystem was being destroyed.


This hesitancy and dismissiveness allowed the issue to fester, turning a local municipal error into a full-blown state-level political crisis. The speed and decisiveness that characterized the successful management of other megagatherings, like the Kumbh Mela in Prayagraj under a similar political dispensation, were visibly absent in Nashik.


The crisis has also laid bare the fragility and competitive dynamics within the three-party Mahayuti alliance. By failing to contain the controversy, the BJP has provided both its rivals and its uneasy partners with political ammunition. The strongest public criticism came not just from the Opposition, but from within the ruling camp itself. Deputy CM Ajit Pawar’s NCP faction, through its prominent member and environmental activist, actor Sayaji Shinde, issued a stark warning that he would “oppose the government” if it insisted on the proposed tree-cutting drive. Pawar himself then publicly called for a “conciliatory approach,” stressing that maintaining environmental balance was as important as development.


This public posturing was seen as an attempt served to distance the NCP from Fadnavis’ ‘blunder’ and win public goodwill at the expense of the BJP. Similarly, while Deputy CM Eknath Shinde’s Shiv Sena faction has not been as vocal, the public ire against the BJP gives the other two Mahayuti parties a chance to gloat at their ‘bigger brother’ being perceived as ‘anti-environment.’


External rivals, like the Congress, the Shiv Sena (UBT), and the MNS, have seized the moment, using the Tapovan controversy as a potent symbol of the government’s alleged greed and lack of empathy, a narrative that resonates strongly with the common voter.


The timing could not be more disadvantageous for the ruling establishment. With municipal and local body elections looming, the Tapovan tree-felling has become a powerful, highly visible local issue. The image of a government willing to allegedly bulldoze a community’s green heritage for a corporate centre is an emotionally charged narrative for local polls. The negative reports, protests and the public outcry now form the dominant backdrop against which the BJP and its allies will have to campaign. The widespread belief, as expressed by local citizens, is that the administration’s focus is skewed towards profit and construction rather than the preservation of Nashik’s unique identity and ecology. The failure to immediately and completely reverse the controversial decision, cancel the commercial tender, and involve local activists in an honest, transparent solution is translating directly into a loss of public trust that will undoubtedly be reflected at the ballot box. For Chief Minister Fadnavis, a leader known for his sharp political instincts and administrative grip, the Tapovan blunder represents a massive, self-inflicted wound. The cost of saving those 1,825 trees was a small investment in public relations and trust; the political cost of appearing to endorse their cutting for development is turning out to be shattering, undermining the unity of the Mahayuti government and providing a ready-made platform for the Opposition to campaign on. The crisis demands a decisive and transparent course correction to prevent the Tapovan controversy from defining the fate of the ruling alliance in the upcoming elections.


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

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