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By:

Abhijit Mulye

21 August 2024 at 11:29:11 am

Fadnavis writes off Rs 48,000 crore

Mumbai: In a clear indication that the Maharashtra government is leaving no stone unturned to keep the state’s agrarian base happy, Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis has unleashed yet another massive populist measure. Hot on the heels of relaxing the eligibility criteria to ensure a blanket farm loan waiver, the Chief Minister announced a sweeping Rs 48,000 crore waiver on the pending electricity bills of farmers across the state. Addressing a ‘Krutadnyata Sohala’ (gratitude ceremony)...

Fadnavis writes off Rs 48,000 crore

Mumbai: In a clear indication that the Maharashtra government is leaving no stone unturned to keep the state’s agrarian base happy, Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis has unleashed yet another massive populist measure. Hot on the heels of relaxing the eligibility criteria to ensure a blanket farm loan waiver, the Chief Minister announced a sweeping Rs 48,000 crore waiver on the pending electricity bills of farmers across the state. Addressing a ‘Krutadnyata Sohala’ (gratitude ceremony) organized by the BJP Kisan Morcha at Mumbai’s Yashwantrao Chavan Pratishthan on Wednesday, Fadnavis declared that farmers using agricultural pumps of up to 7.5 horsepower will see their historical electricity dues completely wiped out. The announcement was met with the traditional sounding of the Tutari and thunderous applause from hundreds of farmers who had gathered from every corner of the state. The Chief Minister framed the mega-sop as a necessary step to “wipe the farmers’ slate clean,” enabling them to write a new chapter of prosperity. Calculated Pitch The timing and scale of the announcement underscore a government that is boldly embracing populist economics to solidify its political footprint in rural Maharashtra. While Fadnavis maintained that these decisions were taken purely in the interest of the farmers—pointing out that the original loan waiver was announced when no elections were in sight—the political undertones were unmistakable. Taking a sharp dig at the opposition, the Chief Minister accused rival parties of running “political shops” in the name of farmer agitations without understanding the government’s genuine intent. Asserting his grassroots connection, Fadnavis proudly claimed, “I do not make decisions sitting in my house. I am a farmer myself, a man of the soil.” He openly defended the government’s recent move to strip away the stringent conditions attached to the blanket farm loan waiver, signaling that his administration will not hesitate to clear bureaucratic hurdles if it means putting money directly into the hands of the rural voter. Balancing Sops Even as he rained freebies, the Chief Minister attempted to balance the populist optics with a dose of economic pragmatism. He acknowledged that handing out repeated loan waivers is a symptom of deep-rooted agrarian distress, not a permanent cure. Pointing to the Rs 95,000 crore in aid currently being pumped into the agricultural sector by the state and central governments, Fadnavis outlined his administration’s shift toward an investment-driven agricultural model. He championed the success of schemes like ‘Jalyukt Shivar’ and ‘Magel Tyala Shettale’ (farm ponds on demand), claiming these initiatives have already empowered farmers to harvest multiple crops a year. Addressing the core issue of farming costs, he noted that the government already subsidises power to the tune of Rs 25,000 crore annually. By coupling this with a push for solar pumps and solar agricultural feeders, he promised that 100 percent of the state’s farmers would receive uninterrupted daytime electricity by the end of the year. Infra Dream Looking beyond immediate financial relief, the Chief Minister laid out a grandiose vision to permanently drought-proof Maharashtra’s most vulnerable regions. A staggering Rs 6 lakh crore infrastructure pipeline is being planned to ensure the next generation never witnesses a drought. Fadnavis detailed ambitious river-linking projects, including the Wainganga-Nalganga link, to divert excess floodwaters to parched regions. The state plans to construct 24 new dams and raise the height of 16 existing ones to ensure not a single district in Vidarbha faces water scarcity. Furthermore, massive engineering feats are on the drawing board to divert 200 TMC of floodwater from Western Maharashtra to Marathwada, and lift 275 TMC of wasted water from the Ulhas basin to quench the thirst of North Maharashtra and Marathwada. By marrying immediate, massive debt relief with long-term infrastructure promises, the Fadnavis administration is aggressively cementing its pro-farmer narrative. As the Yashwantrao Chavan auditorium echoed with whistles and cheers, it became highly evident that the government’s strategy of pairing mega populist waivers with big-ticket rural dreams is striking a powerful chord with the state’s agrarian voters.

When Textbooks Make Mistakes

From factual blunders to systemic lapses, the Odisha textbook controversy exposes why accuracy is the first duty of education.

AI generated image
AI generated image

The recent decision of the Odisha government to suspend four senior education officials following the discovery of 1,678 errors in school textbooks has sent tremors well beyond the boundaries of the state. The mistakes were found across 55 newly introduced Odia textbooks for Classes I to VIII, prepared under the National Education Policy 2020 framework for the current academic year. Class VIII textbooks alone reportedly accounted for more than 700 errors, while teachers who began using the books in classrooms were among the first to flag the glaring inaccuracies.


Among the astonishing mistakes were references to Sir Isaac Newton as a pilot, the misidentification of the famous Konark Sun Temple, and the use of images unrelated to Odisha’s cultural context. More disciplinary action followed, committees were constituted, and quality assurance mechanisms were promised. Yet the larger question refuses to disappear.


How does a man who explained gravity end up flying aircraft in a school textbook? How does a monument standing proudly for centuries lose its identity in print? More importantly, how do thousands of mistakes quietly pass through authors, editors, reviewers, printers and administrators before landing on the desks of children? Somewhere, vigilance seems to have taken a day off.


Educational publishing is unlike ordinary publishing. A novel may entertain and a newspaper may inform, but a school textbook claims something far more significant: authority. Every printed sentence carries an implicit assurance that it has been verified with exceptional care. That is precisely why errors in textbooks resonate so deeply.


For generations, textbooks have enjoyed a status approaching scripture in Indian households. Parents may disagree with politicians, television channels and even medical advice found on the internet, but rarely do they challenge a textbook. A statement printed under the emblem of an educational board acquires the authority of carved stone. That trust is not merely desirable. It is indispensable.


In an age overflowing with misinformation, conspiracy theories and AI-generated content, the importance of reliable educational material has only grown. If children cannot rely on their textbooks as dependable sources of knowledge, society loses one of its strongest defences against confusion and falsehood.


The classroom functions on an invisible contract between society and the child. The student agrees to learn; society promises that what is being taught is reasonably accurate. The textbook stands as the written expression of that promise. What happens when that promise is broken?


Cracks in the Foundation

What makes the Odisha episode especially significant is that the errors surfaced in a fresh set of textbooks introduced as part of the state’s implementation of the National Education Policy. Curriculum reforms are intended to improve learning outcomes and modernise education. Yet even the most ambitious reforms lose credibility if basic editorial standards fail. Grand educational visions ultimately rest on the humble disciplines of fact-checking, proofreading and peer review.


Odisha’s plight is not unique. Over the past decade, several states have faced criticism over factual inaccuracies, poor translations and avoidable typographical errors in school textbooks. While most are eventually corrected, the recurring nature of these episodes suggests that the problem is structural rather than accidental.


A state textbook once informed students that badminton champion P.V. Sindhu had won an Olympic bronze medal instead of silver. Another publication confidently announced that she had “wone one bronze and one gold medal in common wealth games”, combining factual and grammatical inaccuracies in a single sentence.


Elsewhere, students learnt that Mahatma Gandhi was assassinated in October 1948 instead of January that year. One geography text reportedly managed to rearrange international boundaries with the confidence of an amateur cartographer.


Such examples may provoke laughter at first glance. Yet academic errors are rather like termites in a wooden structure. They work silently and invisibly until the damage becomes impossible to ignore.


History may tolerate competing interpretations. Facts permit no such flexibility. Newton was not a pilot. The Second World War did not unfold differently because a proof-reader missed a detail. Geography does not change according to printing schedules.


A newspaper error survives for a day. But a textbook error often survives for years in the memory of a child. Educational psychologists have long observed that misconceptions acquired early are remarkably difficult to erase. Correcting a wrong fact often requires far greater effort than learning the right one in the first place, making accuracy at the source especially critical.


Guardians of the Gate

The awkward reality is that textbook failures rarely originate with a single individual. They represent the collapse of an entire ecosystem involving authors, subject experts, editors, language specialists, proof-readers, designers, printers and approving authorities.


Education resembles a relay race. Each participant carries the baton for a short distance before handing it to the next. If one runner stumbles, recovery is possible. If several runners stumble together, the race is lost.


Today, historical dates can be verified in seconds and spell-checking software identifies grammatical errors almost instantly. Artificial intelligence can summarise research papers, translate languages and detect inconsistencies across thousands of pages. Yet school textbooks continue to trip over elementary facts.


Perhaps the problem lies not in technology but in priorities. The pressure to publish revised editions quickly, align books with changing curricula and reduce production costs can sometimes compress editorial timelines. Yet speed is a poor substitute for accuracy when the intended readers are children encountering these subjects for the very first time.


Editorial scrutiny is increasingly viewed as an avoidable expense rather than an intellectual investment. Experienced editors and proof-readers are often treated as ornamental luxuries in publishing budgets. Removing them from the process is rather like removing the lighthouse because ships now have better engines.


The Odisha government’s response deserves attention for one important reason. Accountability has finally entered the conversation. The proposal for a Quality Assurance Cell, a Master Errata Register and a final locked PDF mechanism recognises that educational publishing requires the same rigour expected in aviation, medicine and engineering.


The challenge is to ensure that accountability does not end with suspensions after mistakes are discovered. The real test lies in building institutional systems that prevent such errors from appearing in the first place through rigorous peer review, multiple rounds of proofreading and independent fact-checking.


After all, society would never tolerate an aircraft manual containing thousands of errors. Why should textbooks that shape millions of young minds receive lower standards?


Teachers too can become the first line of defence by promptly reporting inaccuracies. Students should be encouraged to question, verify and think critically rather than memorise unquestioningly. Curiosity is not the enemy of education. It is its lifeblood.


Ultimately, textbooks are far more than compilations of facts. They shape habits of thinking, influence how young citizens understand the world and establish their earliest relationship with evidence and reason.


For education is not merely the transfer of information from one generation to another. It is the passing on of trust. When a child opens a textbook, he opens more than a book. He opens a map to the world he is preparing to enter. If the compass inside that map is defective, the journey itself becomes uncertain.


Remember, the day children begin doubting the textbook, they may slowly begin doubting the very existence of objective truth. And few educational failures can be more serious than teaching a generation that facts themselves are negotiable.


(The writer is a retired banker and author. Views personal.)

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