A student doesn’t care whether the government is BJP or Congress when sitting for an exam.
They care about one thing:
“Will my hard work be treated fairly?”
A parent doesn’t spend years paying coaching fees thinking about political parties.
They think:
“Will my child get a fair chance?”
And a student preparing for a competitive exam doesn’t want a political debate.
They want a question paper that doesn’t leak, a system that works, a result that comes on time, and a recruitment process they can trust.
Yet somewhere along the way, education has started becoming deeply entangled with politics.
A student protest begins with an education-related demand.
Then a political party supports it.
Another party calls it political exploitation.
Social media divides into hashtags.
News channels pick their sides.
Supporters start defending their leaders.
Opponents start attacking them.
And suddenly, the original question gets buried:
What happened to the student?
BJP vs Congress vs CJP—but where is the student?
This is where today’s political conversation becomes complicated.
When students protest against an education issue, the ruling party may argue that the opposition is using students politically.
The opposition may argue that the government is ignoring students.
A student-led or youth movement may insist that its demands are independent of political parties.
Everyone has an argument.
But the student who spent two years preparing for an examination doesn’t get those two years back.
That’s the uncomfortable part.
Political parties can fight another election.
Students cannot repeat every lost year.
The biggest danger isn’t political involvement. It’s losing the original issue.
Politics itself isn’t necessarily the problem.
In a democracy, education policy will always involve politics.
Governments decide budgets.
Governments create policies.
Parliament debates laws.
Political parties raise public issues.
Students have every right to protest.
But there is a line we should all be careful about:
When does political support for students become political control over students?
And perhaps an even more important question:
Are we listening to students—or speaking on their behalf?
It doesn’t belong to Congress.
It doesn’t belong to CJP.
It belongs to the students.
And when an education system fails, the consequences aren’t experienced by political parties.
They are experienced by:
The student who misses an opportunity.
The parent who spends another year paying fees.
The graduate who remains unemployed.
The candidate who prepares again.
The family that waits.
The young person who starts wondering:
“Does hard work even matter anymore?”
So who should students stand with?
Not blindly with BJP.
Not blindly with Congress.
Not blindly with CJP.
Students should stand with accountability.
If the government does something right—acknowledge it.
If it fails—question it.
If the opposition raises a genuine issue—listen.
If political leaders exploit students for their own advantage—question that too.
And if a student movement makes a demand—judge the demand, not merely the political label attached to it.
Because the real fight shouldn’t be:
BJP vs Congress.
Or:
Government vs Opposition.
The real fight should be:
Failure vs Accountability.
Unfairness vs Transparency.
Political slogans vs Student futures.
“Why wasn’t the system fair?”
Maybe that’s the question India needs to ask more often.
Because political parties will come and go.
Governments will change.
Leaders will change.
But a student’s lost years cannot be returned by an election.
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