Why India’s education system fails marginalised communities — and how to change it

The story I share is not mine alone. It belongs to millions of students from marginalised communities across India who face systemic barriers in their pursuit of education.

Born to illiterate farming parents in Buldhana district of Maharashtra’s Vidarbha region, the idea of quality education seemed like a distant dream from my earliest memories. Our village school had broken benches, overworked teachers, and no electricity for days. Yet, it was the only gateway to a future beyond the fields. For students like me, cities like Pune and Mumbai represented the only hope for proper education, but they might as well have been foreign countries: unfamiliar, expensive, and often hostile to our presence.

The journey from rural India to urban educational institutions is fraught with invisible barriers. The financial burden alone crushes countless dreams before they can take flight. Even for those who manage to secure admission, the cultural transition is brutal.

Our accents are mocked, our clothes scrutinised, and our food habits ridiculed. We are made to feel like outsiders in our own country. This constant othering creates a psychological burden that privileged students never have to carry. Many talented students from marginalised communities drop out, not because they lack ability, but because the system is designed to make them feel they don’t belong.

A dubious concept

The concept of merit in Indian education purports to be objective while ignoring the vast inequalities in preparation and opportunity. A student from an elite Delhi school who has access to the best coaching, books, and networks is judged by the same standards as a student from a village school with no library and intermittent electricity.

The so-called merit that is sought to be evaluated by competitive exams is often just a measure of accumulated privilege. The numbers don’t lie: in India’s top educational institutions, the representation of SC, ST, and OBC students remains shockingly low, especially at higher levels of study and faculty positions.

Competitive exams like JEE and NEET exemplify this systemic bias. Coaching centers in Kota and Delhi churn out toppers, but these expensive programmes are out of reach for most rural and poor students. The language of exams itself becomes a barrier.

English-medium students have a clear advantage over those educated in regional languages. Even when reserved category students clear these exams, they face additional challenges. Many report being treated as “quota students” rather than equals, and their achievements are constantly questioned.

India proudly proclaims its demographic dividend, and the potential of its young population to drive economic growth. But this promise seems hollow for marginalised communities.

Oxfam’s latest reports reveal that India’s economic growth has been accompanied by widening inequality. The benefits of development are captured by a small elite, while Dalits, Adivasis, and OBCs, who together constitute the majority of India’s population, are left behind.

At the five highest-ranked IITs, SC students constitute only about 10% of PhD enrollments, while ST students make up a mere 2%. In faculty representation, it’s even lower. Data shows that over 90% of professors in these institutions come from upper-caste backgrounds. Some premier institutes have no SC/ST faculty members.

This lack of representation creates a vicious cycle for marginalised students who face additional barriers to success. The system effectively reproduces itself, generation after generation.

The barriers begin early. Government schools in rural areas and urban slums lack basic infrastructure, qualified teachers, and proper learning materials. The mid-day meal might be the only reason some children attend school at all.

Meanwhile, privileged children attend well-resourced private schools with trained teachers and abundant extracurricular activities. By the time both groups reach college, the gap in preparation is enormous.

The discrimination continues in campus life. Marginalised students often face social exclusion, microaggressions, and sometimes outright casteism. Hostel rooms are segregated along caste lines in some institutions. Students from certain communities are barred from sharing tables in dining table.

The mental toll of constantly navigating these hostile environments leads many talented students to drop out. Those who persevere often find the job market equally biased, with caste networks determining access to the best opportunities.

Breaking the vicious cycle

Breaking this cycle requires systemic change. First, we must redefine merit to account for the unequal playing field. A student who scores 80% in a village school with no proper facilities has demonstrated more potential than a student who scores 90% with every possible advantage.

Second, we need to strengthen and expand reservation policies to ensure proper representation at all levels, including faculty positions. Third, elite institutions must implement robust support systems: mentorship programs, remedial classes, and mental health services — to help first-generation students succeed.

The current system maintains caste and class hierarchies by presenting them as natural outcomes of merit. Real reform requires acknowledging this fundamental injustice. Education should be the great equaliser, but in India, it accentuates exclusion.

In a knowledge-driven global economy, denying quality education to large sections of population isn’t just unjust, it’s national self-sabotage. India can’t achieve its potential while leaving the majority of its youth behind. Either we transform education into a true tool of liberation, or we perpetuate a system that maintains caste privilege under the guise of merit.

For students like me who made it against the odds, the fight continues. Education remains our only path to liberation, but first, we must liberate education itself from the grip of caste and privilege. Only then can we build a system that truly rewards potential, regardless of the accident of birth.

The road is long, but as Ambedkar reminded us, “Educate, agitate, organise”, this remains our only way forward.