In 2010, Dr. Manmohan Singh called the enactment of the Right to Education (RTE) Act a historic moment for India. His words were full of hope and promise—a vision to make quality education accessible to every child, regardless of caste, class, or socioeconomic background. As a child at the time, seeing this announcement on television, I did not understand much about the RTE Act, but I would soon experience its impact firsthand.
A cornerstone of the RTE Act is the mandate that private schools reserve 25% of their seats for children from economically weaker sections. Accordingly, in 6th grade, I moved from a public school to a private one under the RTE quota. My parents saw it as a gateway to better opportunities, but our reality was far from the vision Dr. Singh had laid out. Hidden fees were demanded from my family, despite the promise of free education. My family struggled to pay the fees that were never supposed to exist. Non-compliance from private schools and even by state governments, coupled with administrative lapses, has diluted the Act’s impact, leaving countless children like me without the rights RTE promised.
Under the RTE Act any charges or expenses to be paid by children to get an elementary education was removed. Despite the provision against it being laid in the Act, collection of hidden capitation fees is a well-established practice among schooling authorities. Capitation fee is the amount that guardians are charged by school authorities in exchange for enrolment. As can be noted in the CAG report, about nine schools in Telangana that were charging a capitation fee were levied a fine of Rs.15.29 crore. However, such fines were not collected from the schools, even after years of imposition of this penalty. Similar examples can be seen in several states.
Apart from financial pressure for my family, subtle forms of exclusion followed. Teachers often overlooked my peers under RTE, and there was an unspoken but palpable divide between “regular” students and those admitted under the RTE. Findings of a recent research paper on the experiences of students under RTE in private schools in Delhi suggest that the children overwhelmingly reported the pervasive labelling of students by teachers in their schools. For the participants of the research study, these experiences concretised their classmates’ designated identities as ‘naughty’ or academically ‘weak’ or ‘incapable’. Labelling and stigmatisation for students under RTE were normalised and reinforced by teachers tacitly accepting exclusionary peer interactions.
However, the most devastating blow came at the end of my school journey. Despite all the fees the private school collected from us, there was no official recognition of the education I received there. I found that my official school records still reflected the name of my old public school. It was as though I had never been a part of that institution.
My story is not unique. Across the country, thousands of children admitted under the RTE quota face similar challenges. Hidden fees, administrative neglect, and outright discrimination have become common. A 2024 report mentions that only 25.5% of RTE norms have been achieved nationally. States like Meghalaya and Arunachal Pradesh have compliance rates as low as 1.3% and 5.7%, respectively. Karnataka’s RTE compliance score is a dismal 23.6%, especially disappointing given the socio-economic progress of South Indian states. Despite the RTE mandate to provide teacher training, reports like ASER (Annual Status of Education Report) reveal poor outcomes due to inadequate teacher professional development (TPD). Karnataka, like other states, has largely relied on ineffective online courses and virtual resources like NISHTHA and DIKSHA, reducing TPD to a tokenistic effort.
As noted by Krishna Mathur, state governments have demonstrated a surprising lack of commitment to the RTE law enacted by Parliament as a follow-up to a constitutional amendment. These governments have played a substantial role in undermining the Act. Earlier last year, the Maharashtra government attempted to exempt private schools from reserving seats under the RTE if a government school was located within a one-kilometre radius. The Bombay High Court struck down this order, but similar policies continue to erode the Act’s intent across India. Mathur mentions how Maharashtra is not the only state where the bureaucracy came up with clever ideas like this to evade the implementation of RTE in its full essence. The 2024 RTE status report suggests that early post-RTE studies examined the implementation of the free seats provision in Bengaluru and Delhi and found: ‘Most schools considered their mandate was complete once admissions were given and hence they were not working towards bringing fundamental changes in attitudes or pedagogies that could foster inclusion’. Some private schools in Delhi, refused to implement the provision, while others taught children with freeships in segregated shifts. According to Punjab State, only if parents could not admit their wards to a government school can they take their child to a private school and claim the economically weaker section (EWS) quota. Mathur writes, “an Act that was designed to protect the rights of children is now being used to enable private schools to exclude the poor with the state government’s help and connivance”. Mathur was unerringly correct in his argument, the RTE Act instead of ensuring inclusion has been misused and undermined, making way for implicit and explicit exclusion of poor and disadvantaged children. The RTE Act was meant to be a bridge between India’s many divides. The 25% reservation for economically weaker sections (EWS) in private schools was designed to foster inclusion, allowing children from different backgrounds to share classrooms, build relationships, and break down societal barriers. Instead, the Act has been reduced to a token gesture, with private schools and state governments exploiting loopholes to evade their responsibilities.
A UNICEF report reveals that COVID-19 school closures in India disrupted education for 247 million children in elementary and secondary schools, 28 million in pre-schools and Anganwadis, and over six million children were already out of school before the pandemic. Even today, millions of children are denied their educational rights, with schools closed for "consolidation" and compliance reduced to mere tokenism, as highlighted by the RTE Cell. This is not the future Dr. Singh envisioned.
In his April 2010 speech on the enactment of the RTE Act, Dr. Manmohan Singh’s vision extended beyond education—it was a call to build a more equitable society. For students like me, it was not just a policy; it was a promise. Dr. Singh once remarked that history would be kinder to him than the media. After his passing, as we reflect on his legacy, the RTE Act stands out as one of his most transformative contributions—a blueprint for an inclusive and progressive India that sought to make equitable education a reality for every child of India.
Honoring Dr. Manmohan Singh’s memory requires that we revive the true spirit of the Act, ensuring every child has the right to dream, learn, and thrive.
In his speech, Dr. Singh invoked the legacy of Gopal Krishna Gokhale, who, over a century ago, championed the Right to Education—a vision repeatedly obstructed by systemic resistance.Visionaries like Gokhale and Dr. Singh may not have lived to see their visions fully realized, but their ideals must endure through us. It is our responsibility to urge governments and private schools to rise above token compliance and ensure an effective RTE implementation. By doing so, we not only honor the vision of RTE but also solidify Dr. Singh’s rightful place in history as a leader who boldly advanced the legacy of inclusive, equitable education for India’s future.
[Edited by Noor Sabharwal and Srijana Siri]
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