SOME encounters stay with us not because they are extraordinary, but because they quietly reflect the society we live in — its values, failures and unspoken compromises. A few years ago, while teaching spoken English and grammar at an institute, I met a student whose story has stayed with me. He had joined the class to improve his English reading and writing skills, and within just a month, his progress was remarkable. His grammar improved rapidly, his understanding was sharp, and it was obvious that he was an intelligent student. I asked him, “You are so good at learning. Why didn’t you focus on English earlier?” He paused before answering with startling honesty. “Mainu kade lorh hi nahin payi” (Ma’am, I never really had to). His father was a local politician, and throughout his school years, nobody had pressured him to study seriously. Connections and influence ensured that he passed every class without difficulty. He even admitted that during some board exams, someone else wrote his papers for him while he slept in the classroom! Surprised and curious, I asked him, “If things were always managed for you, then why did you decide to join English classes now, after finishing your education so many years ago?” He replied: “Mainu bank vallon bhejje text message samajh nahin aunde” (I can’t even understand the messages sent by the bank). There was regret in his voice — the regret of someone who had suddenly discovered the price of borrowed success. He had finally realised what those “favours” had actually cost him. Being a teacher, I felt deeply disappointed. Not because one good student had been pushed through the system dishonestly, but because so many adults around him had failed him. That conversation returned to my mind amid the NEET controversy. What are we protecting when we normalise unfairness in education? A leaked paper may offer a temporary advantage to a few students, but its long-term damage reaches far beyond examination halls. Slowly and silently, it teaches young minds that effort is optional, integrity is negotiable and influence is more valuable than hard work. But education is not merely about securing admission into colleges. It is about preparing individuals for situations where no recommendation, influence or shortcut can rescue them. Parents, institutions and influential people often mistake protection for support. In reality, they may only be postponing failure. The tragedy is that young people often realise this only when the world finally stops offering shortcuts. The writer is a Mohali-based English teacher
