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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.

The Case for a Broader Democracy

As “one nation, one poll” dominates the discourse around electoral reform in India, an undercurrent of more pressing and pervasive issues remains overlooked. While the concept of synchronized elections holds logistical appeal, the focus on timing eclipses a far more significant need: reforming the way Indians vote and the consequences of an outdated system.


India’s electoral framework is the product of a distinct historical journey, marked by aspirations for representative government and a deep commitment to inclusivity. The first general election in 1951-52 was a monumental feat, with over 173 million eligible voters, most of whom had never participated in a democratic process. Inspired by the British model, India adopted the first-past-the-post (FPTP) system, favouring simplicity and speed to accommodate its vast and diverse electorate.


At the time, the FPTP approach seemed practical, offering a clear, direct path for a young democracy to form stable governments without the need for coalitions.


However, as the decades unfolded, the limitations of FPTP became apparent. As early as the 1970s and 1980s, India’s political landscape began to fragment, with the rise of regional and caste-based parties challenging the dominance of national players.


The FPTP electoral system, in which a candidate simply needs more votes than any competitor, allows for sweeping victories by candidates who often fail to secure a true majority. This leaves broad swathes of the electorate unrepresented—a pattern strikingly evident in state and national elections. For example, in Maharashtra’s upcoming assembly elections, thousands of candidates will contest for a mere 288 seats. In this multi-cornered race, candidates can emerge victorious with as little as 30% of the vote, as long as others garner even less. With turnout hovering around 60%, this translates to candidates winning based on the support of only 18-20% of eligible voters—a scenario where a minority becomes the so-called “majority.”


Comparisons with the U.S. electoral college system reveal a shared problem of representation. America’s “winner-takes-all” model often sees candidates capturing a state’s electoral votes with a slim majority, effectively silencing the voices of a large minority. In both systems, victory can hinge on tiny shifts within key voter groups, enabling small factions to wield disproportionate influence. In India, this dynamic manifests as political parties contending with a broad tapestry of voter identities, from linguistic and religious affiliations to caste and regional divides. This diversity, while a strength, becomes a challenge under FPTP, as candidates find it easier to mobilize narrow groups than to seek broad, cross-sectional support.


The electoral system’s structural deficiencies encourage divisive strategies. Political parties focus on appealing to specific voter blocs, stoking divisions rather than bridging them. Election campaigns devolve into battles for sectional interests, sidelining an inclusive vision for all voters. In this way, India’s democratic structure inadvertently promotes a “divide and conquer” approach, deepening social fault lines even as parties espouse unity in rhetoric.


Fortunately, India already has an alternative electoral mechanism for select races. In elections for the President, Rajya Sabha members, and MLCs, candidates are elected through a preferential voting system that allows voters to rank candidates. This method ensures that, should no candidate secure a majority of first-preference votes, subsequent preferences are counted until an absolute majority emerges. Such a system encourages a cooperative spirit; candidates must appeal to a broader swathe of the electorate to accumulate second or third preferences. Extending this multi-preference voting model to general elections would be a step toward ensuring that elected representatives reflect the true will of the people.


The anti-defection law is another area overdue for reform. Initially implemented to prevent elected representatives from switching parties post-election, the law was not designed to address the complexities of party allegiance shifts at an alliance level. In today’s volatile coalition landscape, entire political parties frequently pivot, aligning with former rivals and shifting the balance of power in ways that defy the spirit of voter intent. Expanding the anti-defection law to apply to parties, not just individual candidates, could help contain this trend and bolster public trust in the political process.


Even as “one nation, one poll” captures the national imagination, it is clear that India’s democracy requires more than just synchronized voting schedules. The problem runs deeper: the FPTP system, which fragments voter influence, and the outdated anti-defection law both demand reform. An electoral model that prioritizes majorities and discourages sectionalism would encourage political parties to campaign on unifying, rather than divisive, platforms. As the world’s largest democracy, India has both the responsibility and the opportunity to set a global example in strengthening democratic representation.


While “one nation, one poll” may streamline elections, it is the democratic depth and inclusiveness that India most urgently needs. For a country as diverse as India, with complex social fabrics and divergent regional identities, reforms that foster broader representation and limit factional power are essential. The adage holds true: the answer to democracy’s challenges is, indeed, “more democracy.” To safeguard India’s democratic integrity, the time for these broader reforms is now.


(The author works in Information Technology sector. Views personal.)

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