In the cramped slums of Delhi, India, Rohingya refugee children dream of going to school. But for many, classroom doors remain firmly shut. Despite escaping genocide in Myanmar, these young refugees now face a new obstacle: being denied admission to government schools because of their ethnicity and religion.
Under India’s constitution, all children have a fundamental right to free and compulsory education. However, authorities are increasingly turning Rohingya children away, claiming they are “illegal foreigners” with no right to public services. Desperate parents, many working as ragpickers and day laborers, cannot afford private school fees.
I have been running from pillar to post, trying to get a local government-run school to enrol my son and daughter. But all of them refused, saying they cannot accept any Rohingya student.
– Hussain Ahmed, Rohingya refugee father in Delhi
Lawyers and activists argue that blocking Rohingya children from schools violates their rights and threatens the community’s future. Education is seen as critical to preserving the Rohingya language, culture and history amid ongoing persecution. Leaving kids uneducated could also increase poverty and aid dependence.
The constitutional rights to equality, life and education are applicable with full force to refugee children. These are fundamental rights which cannot be compromised.
– Ashok Agarwal, lawyer and education activist
Doors Closed to Rohingya Students
Hussain Ahmed’s experience is shared by many Rohingya parents in India, home to over 22,000 registered refugees who fled massacres by the Myanmar military. Though India has long hosted refugees, attitudes have hardened under the Hindu nationalist government, which has sought to expel all Rohingya as “terrorists.”
Since 2019, schools have abruptly halted admission of Rohingya students, even those with UN refugee cards and other required documents. Meanwhile, refugees from other countries still access government schools. Lawyers say the policy shift unlawfully discriminates against Rohingya based on their Muslim faith.
Parents have made multiple appeals for admission but are repeatedly rejected by school officials and courts. In October, the Delhi High Court dismissed a plea to enrol 18 Rohingya children, stating they “had not been legally granted entry” and were not citizens.
The Battle for Basic Education
Activists warn that slamming schoolhouse doors on an already marginalized population will have ripple effects on both Rohingya and their host communities. Deprived of education and opportunity, refugee youth may be condemned to generations of poverty and dependency.
For Rohingya, education is also a matter of cultural survival. After facing erasure and ethnic cleansing in their homeland, elders fear their language, history and identity will fade if children cannot learn. Passing on knowledge is seen as resistance against forces trying to destroy the community.
Education is about much more than literacy or job skills. It’s how we preserve our existence as a people, our memories of all we have endured. If our children cannot learn, our identity dies with our struggle.
– Hamid Hussain, Rohingya community leader
Though several hundred Rohingya children did enroll in Indian government schools before the de facto ban, their education has been jeopardized by pandemic shutdowns. Many now work as child laborers to support their families, and it is unclear if schools will allow them to return.
A Struggle for Survival and Dignity
For now, Rohingya families rely on a small number of volunteer teachers and informal classrooms to provide basic primary lessons in their native language. But without access to accredited schools, students cannot earn recognized certificates, dimming their future prospects.
Refugee advocates have called on the Indian government to reverse the discriminatory school policy and uphold Rohingya children’s fundamental rights. Some plan to file an appeal to India’s Supreme Court. But in an increasingly hostile political climate, their struggle for dignity through education remains uncertain.
My children ask me every day why they cannot go to school like the other kids in our area. What can I tell them? That they don’t deserve a chance because of who they are, where they come from? I can only say I will keep fighting for as long I have breath, because their future is worth every hardship.
– Mohammed Salim, Rohingya father of four
As the gates of government schools remain closed to them, Rohingya refugee children in India hold on to their dreams of education against the odds. With each classroom denied, a community struggling for its very survival faces yet another battle – asserting their right to learn, grow and flourish in the face of past and present injustices.
