Every evening on the roadside in Sheikh Sarai, Delhi, a small classroom comes to life. There are no school gates, polished desks, or painted walls. However, the children sit together, holding books, gradually leaving behind the days spent on the streets begging for alms.
At the center of this situation is Krishna Kumar, a teacher at a Delhi government school, who has been teaching these children for free after his main workday for years. When his story was published by The Better India, it was seen by over 1.3 million people. This sparked a wave of support from across India, which brought food kits, school supplies, tents, and renewed hope to the children and families with whom Krishna works.
Krishna Kumar hails from Hanumangarh, Rajasthan, and knows well what it means to struggle. Financial difficulties forced him to drop out of school as a child. Nevertheless, through perseverance and hard work, he rebuilt his life and eventually became a teacher at a Delhi government school.
Years later, one evening in Sheikh Sarai, everything changed. Krishna noticed children begging on the street. A little girl approached him asking for food for her hungry father. In addition to food, Krishna gave her a book and promised to teach her.
She became his first student. What started with one child soon turned into a street classroom. Every evening, Krishna continued to show up. Some children were initially hesitant to trust him, while others showed no interest in studying. People around often disregarded these efforts.
But Krishna did not give up. Gradually, the children began to listen, learn, and believe in the possibility of a different life. Today, about fifty to sixty children gather on the roadside to study, laugh, and dream. Many of them have stopped begging. Krishna also buys books, stationery, clothes, and other necessities for them from his own pocket, as education means providing every child with an equal chance at life for him.
After the story was featured on The Better India, it reached an audience of over 1.3 million people. However, the real impact came from the reaction of the people. People from Kerala, Mumbai, Surat, Maharashtra, Rajasthan, Haryana, Delhi, and other parts of India responded to his dedication to children who had long been ignored.
Some wanted to know how they could help, while others offered assistance in the form of supplies. Soon, support began arriving for Krishna's students and their families in the form of food kits, educational materials, and tents for women and families living outdoors. For Krishna, this support strengthened not only his evening classes. He noted that it also helped his broader work, including food distribution, tree planting, and women's safety initiatives.
Most importantly, it reminded him that he was no longer carrying this dream alone.
Despite the warm response, Krishna Kumar's mission is far from over. Every evening, he continues to teach dozens of children on the roadside, and his dream remains the same—one day to build a permanent school where every child can study with dignity, safety, and hope.
In the remote village of Rongmei in Manipur state, a group of children measures shadows under the shade of a tall tree. Instead of using desks or classroom walls, students use the earth, light, and their own curiosity as the basis for learning.
These sessions are supervised by two educators: Ananya Mukherji and Kabitu Rongmei. The Khaangchu educational center transforms the village itself into a learning space, allowing children to acquire knowledge without abandoning their language, identity, or life experience.
Kabitu Rongmei emphasizes the importance of this approach, stating: 'When children cannot see their world in what they are learning, education slowly loses its meaning for them.' Khaangchu was created to restore this meaning.
For Kabitu Rongmei, who was born into the Rongmei tribal community, education was never a given. He grew up in the very village where Khaangchu is now located, but his early years were marked by instability in formal schooling. Government teachers were often absent, and learning outcomes remained extremely low.
At the request of his parents, Kabitu left his village at the age of six. His childhood was spent in constant movement—he lived with relatives, in hostels, in different districts and states, striving to access an education that his home village could not provide. The situation was complicated by political instability in Manipur; frequent strikes and shutdowns led to prolonged school closures.
After completing higher secondary education, financial difficulties forced him to pause his studies. He started working, seeking opportunities, and eventually enrolled in a university in Guwahati through a subsidized program. It was there, through experience and conversations, that he posed the question: if change is possible, where should it begin? For Kabitu, the answer was clear—in the field of education.
Around the same time, Ananya Mukherji was asking similar questions, but from a completely different starting point. Having grown up in Jamshedpur and received her education in Delhi, she spent two years as an intern with Teach For India, working in urban classrooms. However, even in cities, she observed deep inequalities in education.
Ananya noted: 'If it is so difficult in places like Delhi or Hyderabad, what must it look like in regions with almost no resources?' During her internship, she met Kabitu in 2021, and they decided to stay in touch. When Kabitu contacted her from his village, inviting her to teach, Ananya decided to accept the invitation.
In April 2023, she arrived in the village and encountered children studying in classes where they did not understand the language of instruction. Textbooks contained references to distant and unfamiliar realities. The system demanded memorization but offered nothing relatable to the children's lives. Shortly after, a conflict erupted in Manipur, communication lines were disrupted, and the internet went down. Ananya recalls that 'the classrooms continued to function as before'; children continued to cram essays about festivals while changes occurred around them. This contrast between real life and what was taught showed that education here was not just broken; it was detached from reality.
The first steps toward creating Khaangchu were modest. Kabitu began working with teenagers in the village, many of whom struggled with basic reading and writing, using an abandoned government school building to develop literacy. However, it quickly became clear that the problem was deeper than just skills; it was about significance and belonging.
Together with Ananya, they began envisioning something different—not just a school, but a space where education would be rooted in the lives of the children it served. In 2022, public discussions began, which were informal dialogues to ascertain people's needs and what education meant to them.
By 2023, a small extracurricular pilot project was launched. In January 2024, Khaangchu officially opened its learning space, which was built with funds raised online and physically constructed by the villagers themselves. Kabitu notes: 'The residents gathered for a whole week to build it; that is our level of involvement.'
At Khaangchu, the school day does not start with a bell. Children start arriving as early as 8 am, although lessons officially begin at 9 am. They come to play, spend time, simply to be themselves. Ananya adds that this speaks to the children's desire to be there.
The day begins with a morning circle dedicated to storytelling, music, and conversation, most of which takes place in Rongmei—the children's native language. This is done intentionally because traditionally, education required children to leave their language and, consequently, part of their identity outside the classroom. At Khaangchu, there is no such barrier.
This is followed by structured, yet flexible, learning. Lessons are not confined to classroom walls. For example, the mathematical concept of height and distance is studied under trees through shadows, and natural science lessons take place in open fields. Learning becomes an experience, not just memorization.
Three times a week, students participate in 'community immersion,' directly studying the surrounding environment. They learn about Rongmei clans, traditional practices, oral histories, and cultural knowledge, with elders and parents also acting as teachers. Ananya explains: 'Anyone who wants to teach here is a teacher.'
In a short period, Khaangchu has demonstrated a tangible impact. As of 2025, 49 children have been enrolled in the program with attendance above 95%. About 85% of students achieve or exceed proficiency levels in English and Math, and 42 children have already reached age-appropriate reading levels. Importantly, over 90% of traumatized children show greater emotional stability and visible joy in daily learning. Today, the school has accepted 120 children aged 2.5 to 12.
For local teachers, such as Naitona Taimey, Kachiamtuiiu Gangmei, and Kungtailiu Gangmei, the transformation of the children has become a deeply personal experience. They have been teaching these children since the early days of Khaangchu, working with students aged 5 to 11. They recall that initially, the children were fearful and spoke little, but changes began within a few weeks. 'They started opening up. Now they share thoughts freely, ask questions, express themselves,' they say.
Language plays a key role: 'When they are allowed to speak Rongmei, they feel comfortable. Their confidence grows,' explains Naitona. Connection to the environment is also vital: 'If we teach about trees, we don't just show pictures—we go outside, observe, collect, and discuss so it becomes real for them,' says Kungtailiu. The teachers themselves note that this experience transforms them too: 'We are not just teaching—we are learning together with them every day.'
For the Rongmei community, Khaangchu is more than just a school; it is a kind of restoration. Gululung Rongmei, a local pastor, says that in childhood, learning seemed distant, amounting to memorizing things that found no resonance. Khaangchu differs in that it reminds people how learning used to happen—through stories, observation, and community—while also introducing new elements.
Parents share this view. Shanti Gangmei notes that for a long time, education meant moving away from identity, whereas now 'it feels like our identity is respected.' These changes have led to children becoming more confident, asking questions, and actively participating in community life. Parents Daffidil Rongmei and Shanti Gangmei note that curiosity has extended beyond the classroom, encompassing stories, farming, and traditions.
For Khaangchu, success is defined not only by grades but by nurturing a generation that stands confidently on its own feet and is capable of shaping its own future. Kabitu envisions a future where Rongmei children do not feel disconnected from education, and where learning reflects their life, land, and people. This is a future where they become leaders capable of solving local problems using both local knowledge and modern skills.
It is important that Khaangchu is conceived as belonging to the community, not its founders. The goal is for the model to be sustained through joint decision-making and participation from local leadership. Teachers like Kachiamtuiiu dream that their students succeed in whatever they choose, whether academics or farming, but with understanding and confidence.
An event called Intuition Fest took place at the Art of Living center in Bengaluru, gathering over 7000 children. These children gathered for one day to participate in a celebration dedicated to developing human potential and future-ready education.
The event was more than just a traditional class. Participants demonstrated skills rarely seen in a school setting, such as confidently completing tasks with their eyes closed and engaging in intuitive games that required trust in inner signals rather than external instructions. Stations were designed to foster creativity, confidence, and concentration, not to test memorized knowledge.
At the core of the entire process is the Art of Living Intuition Process program. This structured system helps children develop self-control, improve memory, enhance focus, achieve emotional balance, and boost self-esteem. The tools used in the program are simple and ancient: meditation, breathing exercises, and mindfulness. Through these, children learn to calm a restless mind, reduce anxiety, and connect with the quieter aspect of their inner world.
In an era where attention is the most scarce resource for young people, the ability to remain calm can be the most practical skill. The modern generation grows amidst a constant stream of notifications, news feeds, and artificial intelligence capable of generating answers faster than humans. Instead of trying to compete with machines in speed and volume of information, Intuition Fest offers a different answer.
If machines can master intellect, then the most humane education must cultivate what is inaccessible to the mind: intuition, creativity, presence, and inner awareness. More important than knowing how to find an answer is the wisdom in choosing meaningful questions. As Gurudev Sri Sri Ravi Shankar emphasizes, intuition manifests through intellect, but it originates outside of intellect; it cannot be downloaded, only discovered.
Looking at this more broadly, the festival serves not merely as a gathering of children, but as a confident proposal for how Indian education can transform. It promotes a model that respects the depth of knowledge while simultaneously providing equal space for the student's inner life—emotional resilience, self-belief, and a level of awareness that is not assessed in current curricula.
A calm child learns faster, a confident child participates more actively, and a self-aware child grows into a person capable of handling uncertainty without losing themselves. These outcomes are not secondary; in the coming decades, they may prove decisive. This festival is not just an event, but a signal to move toward a generation that will be more balanced in chaos, more focused, and more aware of who it is becoming.
