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By:

Correspondent

23 August 2024 at 4:29:04 pm

Deadly Neglect

The deaths of three tribal girls following a snakebite at a residential school in Gadchiroli have cast a distinctly unfavourable light on the standards of care in Maharashtra’s tribal hostels. A total six girls were bitten while sleeping on the floor, raising questions about basic accommodation, preventive measures and the oversight of institutions entrusted with the care of some of Maharashtra’s most disadvantaged children. A properly maintained hostel and basic preventive measures can...

Deadly Neglect

The deaths of three tribal girls following a snakebite at a residential school in Gadchiroli have cast a distinctly unfavourable light on the standards of care in Maharashtra’s tribal hostels. A total six girls were bitten while sleeping on the floor, raising questions about basic accommodation, preventive measures and the oversight of institutions entrusted with the care of some of Maharashtra’s most disadvantaged children. A properly maintained hostel and basic preventive measures can certainly reduce the likelihood that a snakebite becomes a mass casualty event. Residential schools for tribal children exist precisely because many of their students come from remote and disadvantaged communities. The state assumes responsibility for their education, accommodation, food and safety. The inevitable official response of a detailed inquiry into the tragedy is hardly reassuring. The district administration has said it will establish whether adequate protective measures were in place and whether the school management complied with safety rules. The Maharashtra administration has conducted enough inquiries till now to know that the discovery of a lapse is not the same thing as fixing the system that produced it. The questions are elementary. Were sufficient beds available? If not, why not? Was the hostel building properly sealed? Were doors, windows and drains inspected? Was pest and snake control undertaken? Were mosquito nets and other basic protective equipment provided? Was there adequate lighting and night supervision? How frequently had the hostel been inspected? And were funds allocated for these facilities actually spent on them? The last question deserves particular attention. Tribal residential schools have for years been vulnerable to the familiar maladies of public administration, most notably gross corruption. Inadequate oversight, poor maintenance, opaque procurement and the fact that money and food intended for children disappears somewhere between the budget and the beneficiary has become all too common. More crucially, Gadchiroli is not politically ownerless. Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis is its guardian minister, making the quality of governance in the district an especially important test of the state government’s claims about tribal development. The answer cannot be another round of condolences followed by an inquiry whose findings gather dust. The government should use this tragedy to conduct a comprehensive and independent safety audit of every tribal residential hostel in Gadchiroli, with the findings and corrective measures made public. Beds, sanitation, building maintenance, pest control, emergency medical arrangements and night-time supervision should be treated as measurable standards, not discretionary amenities. Three girls have died in the most appalling manner. The least the state can do is ensure that their deaths expose a failure that is then corrected, rather than an outrage that is briefly mourned and administratively forgotten.

Where Does the NEET Aspirant Stand Now?

A resignation answered one question, and a new law addressed another, but lasting confidence depends on whether the system itself improves.

The NEET protest at Jantar Mantar began with a specific cause: allegations of paper leaks and irregularities in the examination, along with a demand for accountability and meaningful reform. At its core, the protest reflected growing concern over the credibility of one of India's most important entrance examinations and the need to restore public confidence in the system. In the months since, the government's response has unfolded in three distinct stages, each broader in scope than the last.


The first was the education minister's resignation, which the protest itself appeared to treat as a resolution, with the sit-in ending soon afterwards. The second was the introduction of a stricter law on examination malpractice, raising penalties for those responsible for paper leaks and strengthening the legal framework governing exam security. The third, and most recent, was the announcement of a high-powered task force on education reform, headed by a well-regarded technology expert and comprising credentialed scientists and administrators. Its purpose is to examine the deeper, systemic issues behind repeated examination failures and recommend long-term improvements.


Measured against the protest's original grievance, this represents a sequence of progressively wider institutional responses—from individual accountability to legal deterrence and finally to structural reform. Each stage addresses a different layer of the same complaint. Someone was held responsible, the legal framework was strengthened, and the system itself is now under review. Whether these measures ultimately succeed is a separate question, but together they indicate an attempt to respond at multiple levels rather than through a single action.


How this sequence has been received tells its own story. The stricter law drew a mixed reaction from the protest's political supporters. Several used the occasion to press further demands—a wider probe and additional accountability—rather than directly engaging with the substance of the legislation itself. The protest's own leadership, meanwhile, said relatively little about the law's provisions, focusing instead on a separate concern: legal protection for the protesters themselves. Both responses are understandable in their own way, but neither offers a clear assessment of whether the government's action was considered adequate or insufficient in addressing the original grievance.


The task force's reception is still unfolding, and it offers a clearer test than the law did because its mandate—improving reliability, transparency and trust in the examination system—aligns directly with the protest's founding demand. Unlike a resignation or a legislative amendment, its success will ultimately depend on whether it produces reforms that are implemented effectively and inspire confidence among students and the wider public.


Through all of this, one voice has remained the quietest: the NEET aspirant. Not the organiser, not the political spokesperson, but the student who came to Jantar Mantar wanting a fair, transparent examination and a predictable path to admission. For them, a resignation changes little in everyday terms. A stricter law may offer reassurance about the future, but it does not provide closure on the past. A reform task force, if it fulfils its mandate, could genuinely improve how future examinations are conducted. Yet that is a promise measured in years rather than weeks, while the aspirant's own admission timeline continues to move forward.


What the aspirant likely feels at this stage is less triumph than cautious optimism—aware that something has changed, unsure whether it is enough, and still waiting, as they always have, for the examination system to function fairly, consistently and as intended.


(The writer is an IT professional based in Thane. Views personal.)


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