In April 2022, during a scholarship distribution programme in Uluberia, I found myself in conversation with a group of school students. I began asking the children about their own aspirations. One boy said he wanted to become an engineer. “That’s wonderful,” I told him. “Where are you preparing for IIT-JEE from?” “From my school books,” he replied. “I don’t know if there is more to study.”

Another student told me she wanted to become a doctor. When I asked what subjects she had taken in higher secondary school, she said, “Humanities”.

The students had ambition. They had access to school. They had textbooks. What
they did not have was direction.

Over the next few years, as I interacted with students from different parts of the country, it became evident that this was not a Bengal-specific concern. In urban India, career counselling, coaching centres, alumni networks and exposure visits create informal scaffolding around ambition. In rural and semi-urban India, that scaffolding is often absent. Students are thus left to decode competitive examinations, subject requirements and professional pathways largely on their own.

The numbers tell their own story. As per the Economic Survey, the gross enrolment ratio drops from 78.7% in Classes IX–X to 58.4% in Classes XI–XII, and further to just 29.5% in higher education. The reason this comes to our attention less is because most policies are aimed at improving foundational literacy and numeracy at the primary school level. While progress is being made in that direction, the neglect of those in their adolescence represents a larger problem.

In many rural schools,
the emphasis remains on
syllabus completion and
board examination performance. Structured counselling, college fairs and entrance exam orientation are rare. Students move from one
examination to another without clarity about what lies beyond.

The fault is not schools’ alone. Most rural schools function in vernacular mediums. Yet high-quality preparation material for competitive examinations remains concentrated in English, sometimes in Hindi. Students who already rely on used/second-hand books to attend school must now compete across linguistic divides as well. Language in this context becomes a competitive capital. Inequality reinforced by the language divide is an under-recognised problem.

Beyond school hours,
structured engagement is often missing. Evenings
are spent on playgrounds
or increasingly on mobile screens. Recreation is not the problem. The absence of
mentorship is. Parents, themselves unfamiliar with evolving professional landscapes, struggle to guide their children.

India has made genuine progress in increasing enrolment through scholarships, midday meals and financial incentives. These interventions have brought children into classrooms. But bringing a child into a classroom is not the same as guiding him/her into a career.

The global job market
is undergoing rapid transformation. Automation and Artificial Intelligence are redefining skill requirements. Even professional degree
holders are struggling to
find meaningful employment. In such a landscape, misalignment between education
and employability is dangerous.

If millions of young
people move through schooling without structured
guidance, we risk converting demographic advantage into demographic anxiety. The
crisis we face is not one of literacy alone. It is one of alignment.

The students in Uluberia did not lack ambition. They lacked maps. A nation that
celebrates its youth cannot afford to let them walk
without one.