In a dusty village in Madhya Pradesh, 12-year-old Raju ties a cloth around his face to shield it from brick dust. His day begins at sunrise in a brick kiln and ends long after dusk. In between, he carries heavy loads, breathes in fine ash, and dreams silently of the school he once attended.

“I liked writing on the blackboard,” he says softly, “but my father said we need money more than marks.”

Raju hasn’t seen a classroom in two years.

The Economics of Education

In rural India, schooling isn’t just about learning—it’s about survival. For families living below the poverty line, education often becomes a luxury they cannot afford. When work is seasonal and income unstable, children become laborers to help put food on the table.

Raju’s story is heartbreakingly common. His father fell sick, and the family had debts to repay. The government school was far, and the mid-day meal wasn’t enough to justify a lost working hand.

One by one, his books gathered dust. One by one, his dreams unraveled.

A System Not Built for Them

The challenges aren’t just financial—they’re structural. In Raju’s village:

• The school lacks electricity.
• The teacher is absent more often than present.
• Classrooms double as cattle shelters during monsoon.
• Girls drop out at puberty due to lack of toilets.

Education isn’t seen as a bridge to opportunity—it’s seen as a distraction from immediate survival.

Even when children are enrolled, dropout rates spike sharply after Class 5 or 6. According to government data, more than 40% of rural children never finish secondary school.

The Girls Left Behind

While boys are sent to work, girls are often pulled into unpaid domestic labor or married off early.

Take Sunita, 13, who left school to care for her younger siblings while her mother went to work in the fields. “I wanted to be a nurse,” she says, “but now I only know how to cook and clean.”

Without intervention, she may be married by the time she turns 15.

Local Heroes, Silent Battles

Some change is coming from within. In a neighboring village, a retired schoolteacher started free evening classes under a banyan tree. Children like Raju attend when their day’s labor is over. He teaches them with borrowed books, solar lamps, and the belief that education can still be reclaimed.

NGOs are trying to bridge the gap too—by offering bicycle programs for girls, mentorship for first-generation learners, and scholarships for dropouts. But their reach is still small, and the need is immense.

What Raju’s Story Reveals

When we talk about rural education, we must stop quoting enrollment rates alone. The real question is: Are children learning—or just listed? Are they dreaming—or just surviving?

Raju may be strong enough to lift bricks, but he’s also fragile—his dreams break more easily than his bones.

Ink of Impact’s Take

We believe every child deserves a chalkboard—not a chain of responsibilities that shouldn’t be theirs. Until the last Raju returns to class, these stories must echo louder.