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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.

Moving People, Not Just Vehicles: Sudhir Badami’s Vision for Mumbai

A book that reminds us that transport is not merely about moving vehicles; it is about moving people, hopes, and futures for all and not some.

In the story of modern India, the port city has emerged as both a marvel and a dilemma—a symbol of restless energy and uneven opportunity. Among these, Mumbai, the ancient port turned pulsating metropolis, captures the paradox of our times: a city that never sleeps, yet one where the common man struggles to move forward.

 

Sudhir Badami’s “Making Commuting in Mumbai Enviable” is, in many ways, a thoughtful invitation to rediscover the soul of urban mobility—not as a question of technology alone, but as a moral and civic imperative. It reminds us that “transport is not merely about moving vehicles; it is about moving people, hopes, and futures.”

 

This work does not carry the authority of government, nor the weight of corporate ambition. Its strength lies elsewhere—in the quiet conviction of a citizen who believes that dignity and design must walk together. Such belief is not naïve. It is rooted in the deepest traditions of democratic planning, where public works are meant not to impress the few but to uplift the many.

 

The proposals in this book—electric microbuses for the last mile, a networked BRT (Bus Rapid Transit) system for all citizens, and the reimagining of para-transport through dignified aggregator models—may appear modest in scale, but they carry within them the possibility of transformation. If implemented with care and guided by science, they may well achieve what we once called the "temple of modern India"—a public infrastructure that serves all, not some.

 

Yet, I would be remiss if I did not gently point toward what remains to be done.

 

For every noble idea must be tested on the anvil of governance, law, and engineering.

 

Our cities are not only crowded; they are complex. The vehicles proposed must align with the evolving standards of safety and accessibility—AIS-052, AIS-63, and others—not as a bureaucratic hurdle, but as a promise to protect the very people we seek to serve. The dreams of the author must now walk hand in hand with institutions like ARAI, IITs, and civic bodies so that imagination is not left adrift but anchored in possibility.

 

Let us also not forget that the strength of a democratic society lies not only in the boldness of its dreams but also in the humility of its design. Mumbai’s transport cannot be built by cement alone—it must be shaped by compassion, by equity, and by that rare quality in public life: patience.

To Sudhir Badami, I offer not only appreciation but encouragement. In a time when cities are too often shaped by elite visions and imported technologies, his voice reminds us of Gandhi’s talisman: “Recall the face of the poorest and weakest…” and ask if your transport policy will help them commute in dignity.

 

The scope of urban commuting is vast—shaped by economic pressures, social inequalities, and infrastructural constraints—too complex for any single work to fully encompass. Yet, this book makes a meaningful contribution by bringing humane clarity to that complexity. It does not claim to answer every question, but it dares to ask the ones that matter. In doing so, it reminds us that thoughtful public transport is not merely a technical pursuit—it is a moral one. And with sincerity and vision, this work marks an earnest step toward that larger journey.

 

And in that alone, it becomes a document of importance. It deserves to be read, debated, improved—and above all, acted upon.

 

The path to a just city is rarely straight, often congested, and almost always under construction. But progress, like good public transport, begins with someone deciding not to wait endlessly. This book, in that spirit, may well be the proverbial bus that finally shows up—not perfect, perhaps, but heading in the right direction.


(The writer is a former Maharashtra government official. Views personal.)

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