In these troubled times of joblessness, school closures, and communal strife, stories of hope and transformation often go unheard. But they exist. And one of the most powerful examples comes from Kerala—a state that has quietly redefined public education.

Before 2016, under the Congress-led United Democratic Front (UDF) government, Kerala faced a grim situation in its school sector. Many government schools, grappling with low enrolment, were on the brink of closure. 

Fast forward to the present day, and those very schools have not only survived—they have been reborn as "international schools" under the CPI(M)-led Left Democratic Front (LDF). These schools now boast world-class infrastructure and inclusive, forward-thinking educational models. I have witnessed this transformation myself in Kozhikode (Calicut), where education has become a symbol of dignity, aspiration, and community participation.

Kerala’s revamped public schools have become case studies for the world. The design and environment of these institutions combine tradition, modernity, and ecology. It’s not unusual now for Malayalam films to depict government schools that resemble resorts—lush campuses, open learning spaces, and green architecture. Global icons like Ronaldinho and Brett Lee have visited for sports events, while A.R. Rahman has appreciated the cultural infrastructure. This isn’t an exaggeration—this is the new reality of public schooling in Kerala.

Photos of the frame at the PRISM Institute. Photo: Mayukh Biswas.

These schools provide far more than textbook learning. Bright, airy classrooms, science labs, expansive dining halls, spotless kitchens, modern toilets, and special facilities for students with disabilities reflect the government's commitment to equality and quality. Once disregarded as places for the underprivileged, these schools are now attended by children of bureaucrats, including IAS and IPS officers. They function as Malayalam or English medium schools, and there is a conscious push toward gender neutrality in uniforms and curriculum. It has been determined that every government school with an enrollment exceeding 1,000 students will receive up to Rs 3 crore for essential infrastructure development. Aided schools will be eligible for government assistance of up to Rs 1 crore, contingent upon the management raising an equivalent amount.  

Beyond government-allocated funds, contributions from the Parent-Teacher Association (PTA), alumni, and the local community will be mobilized to foster collaborative stewardship over the improvement initiatives. The objective is to elevate schools to global benchmarks by modernizing their physical infrastructure and integrating cutting-edge IT facilities.  

Under the initial phase, core infrastructure upgrades are being implemented in 141 schools, with each institution receiving Rs 5 crore. Additionally, 229 schools are undergoing foundational infrastructure enhancements at an allocation of Rs 3 crore per school. This fiscal year, comprehensive development projects totaling Rs 1,392 crore are being executed across 370 schools.  

A substantial portion of these infrastructure initiatives is being financed through the Kerala Infrastructure Investment Fund Board (KIIFB), supplementing budgetary provisions.  

Step into one, and you’ll witness what secularism in practice looks like—Hindu, Muslim, and Christian children learning together without barriers. The facilities include digital classrooms, libraries, indoor stadiums, reading rooms, and computer labs. More importantly, there is a palpable sense of ownership—by teachers, parents, alumni, and even the neighbourhood.

This remarkable change began in 2010 with A. Pradeep Kumar, a former SFI leader and then-MLA from Kozhikode North. His initiative—PRISM (Promoting Regional Schools to International Standards through Multiple Interventions)—was launched at Nadakkavu Government Vocational Higher Secondary Girls School. It soon became a model, replicated in other schools.

The author (centre) with SFI President V. P. Sanu (right) and Adarsh M. Saji (left). Photo: Mayukh Biswas.

Crucially, the PRISM initiative stayed clear of political or religious organizations—a deliberate departure from the vision espoused in the BJP-led Centre’s New Education Policy. Instead, the program brought in alumni and secular, professional institutions like the Indian Institute of Management Kozhikode, ISRO, NIT Calicut, and the Faisal-Shabana Foundation in Dubai.

After 2016, the LDF government adopted this model at the state level, allocating budgetary support to develop at least one model school in every assembly constituency. This scaled-up version was named Janakeeya Vidyabhyasa Mathruk or The People’s Education Model. It isn’t just about upgrading infrastructure—it’s about building a way of life. In these schools, one might see children attending AI-based vocational classes, learning martial arts, or queuing up for NEET exam registrations. Education here is not just formal; it is aspirational.

Today, Kerala has digitalized over 50,000 schools, and about 98% of children who begin in Class I continue till Class X. Dropout rates are near zero. This success is not accidental—it is the result of a consistent political vision that views education as the cornerstone of a modern, secular, and humane society.  By expanding vocational education and promoting IT-enabled learning, the LDF has reinforced Kerala’s reputation as a leader in inclusive, high-quality education, aligning with the state’s historic commitment to social justice and empowerment.

Contrast this with what is happening in my home state of West Bengal.

In places like Murshidabad, I see a generation that the system has abandoned. School dropouts—disillusioned, jobless, and angry—are being drawn into riots, bandhs, and communal confrontations, whether during Ram Navami or Hanuman Jayanti. These are not just young men with no education; they are young men with no direction. No future.

Many of them, if they survive this cycle, will one day migrate to other states, doing backbreaking labour in far-off cities—like the Ashok cobblers of Gujarat—only to realize too late that Bengal has been hollowed out. They will come to understand how they were trapped—by divisive ideologies, by false promises, by organizations like the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh and Jamaat and their political arms: the Bharatiya Janta Party and the Trinamool Congress.

The tragedy is that it didn’t have to be this way.

Kerala shows us that an alternative is not just possible—it is thriving. Education, when combined with political will and a secular, inclusive vision, can uplift entire communities. It can build human capital, restore dignity, and create citizens—not mobs.

The question Bengal must ask itself is this: do we want to continue down a path of ruin, or will we learn from Kerala’s school revolution and begin to rebuild our future, one child at a time?


The author is an independent writer. The views expressed are personal.