Under massive concrete pillars of a swanky metro rail system, bold dreams are taking shape in the homes of poor families in Delhi slums.
Rajiv Camp, named after the assassinated former Prime Minister, Rajiv Gandhi, is buzzing with a new found confidence that defies the poverty reflected in open drains, electricity wires hanging over its narrow lanes.
Families earning less than a dollar a day have forced open the doors of private schools. Previously the schools had denied admission to their children in a bid to enforce exclusivity of premium education, which only a few can buy.
According to state legislation all schools that have been built on land given by the state at nominal rates must reserve 10 per cent of their seats for poor families.
“The school officials at mocked us when I went to ask for admission forms,” recalls Shakila, a single mother, who packages hardware products in a factory nearby to support her two children.
“You folks living on food handed out by the government are now dreaming of sending your kids to big schools,” says Shakila, narrating a comment on her Below Poverty Line (BPL) status by a school official.
“But after close to six months of struggle and persistence, principals of five schools came to my doorsteps to offer admission to my three-year-old daughter,” adds Shakila.
Scuttled by redtape
One of the biggest hurdles for poor parents in claiming reserved seats for their children is getting a government certificate, stating that their annual incomes are below a hundred thousand Indian rupees.
“Realising that people living in slums don’t have an income proof, schools use this as an excuse to reject applications,” says Ritu, from Paridarshita, a community organisation supported by ActionAid.
The local government office meant to provide income certificates more often fails to respond to poor families. This violates state commitments to provide certificates within 21 days of receiving applications.
“To pressure officials into action, we helped parents demand a reply by using Right to Information legislation. This exposed the backlog of applications and forced them to clear pending requests,” she adds.
Demanding rights
Even with the right paperwork in hand schools did not respond and nor did the education department, which is supposed to monitor the process.
“The schools employ different ways to discourage us. Ranging from shortage of admission forms to outright humiliation,” says 30-year-old Kusum Devi. Her son Rahul is now studying in the same school that had previously shut its door on her.
Shakila and Kusum are among hundreds of parents who were initially refused places in private schools.
But once made aware of their rights, these parents, who constitute the vast migrant labour feeding small factories and the construction industry, did not shy away from a fight.
Making policy work
Paridarshita has been rallying parents in Delhi slums to approach schools and education department over the issue.
“Around 1,000 parents were assisted in filing written complaints with director and deputy director of education,” says Ritu.
“All these complaints were brought to the notice of Hon’ble High Court and contempt notices were issued against schools,” she adds.
In the last two years, 450 of Delhi’s poorest children got admissions in private schools, thanks to Paridarshita’s efforts and support from ActionAid.
Over 5,400 children would get admission if all the seats reserved in private schools for low income families are filled-up.