India’s ruling Hindu elite wants to give the children of Indian Muslims Islamic reform—not schools, not parks, not laboratories, not sportsgrounds. According to this 2006 report, 96 per cent of Muslim children in India go to schools. Yet the nation’s big conversation is focused on the remaining four per cent who go to madrassas. Indian Muslims are accused of not reforming from within, not doing enough.

So, I take you to the Khairul Momineen School based in Kiradpura, a government-designated slum area of Aurangabad. Established 20 years ago, this school is managed by a non-governmental organisation. The school is divided into two sections: primary classes and a secondary section. Students of this school come from the poorest of the poor class of Indian Muslims. Let’s see the circumstances in which these children are making their way in life.

 The dilapidated building of Khairul Momineen School

Here is a profile of its students: Zeba Begam is the daughter of a rickshaw driver. Kamil Khan’s father works at a brick kiln. Sheikh Rehan is the son of a welder. Sadia Anjum is the daughter of a divorcee who works at a medical store—not selling medicines, but as a cleaner. Ibrahim Khan Afsar’s mother cleans houses for others. The mothers of Tamanna Shah, Yasmeen and Humaira Sheikh also earn their living by cleaning houses. Nayab Khan’s father sells agarbatti (incense) sticks. The mothers of Muskan Syed and Anam Firdaus are sweepers.

Almost all the children enrolled in this school belong to this class of Indian Muslims. But this is not the full story. Due to the distressing circumstances of these children, the school management was forced to run separate classes from 2 pm onward for kids in early school years, and a morning shift from 8 am to 2 pm for children enrolled in Classes 5 to 10. The morning shift was started because these children go to work in the afternoon.

Almost 90 per cent of these children go to work after school hours. Here are the profiles of such students:

Syed Suhail is a student of Class 10; he assists at a clothes shop for ₹50 per day. Sana Syed Ali’s mother runs a kirana store; after school, Sana goes to work as a cleaner in a medical shop for ₹600 per month. Zabeen Shaikh Rasheed’s mother is a sweeper in a madrassa; she goes after school to clean the houses of others for ₹300 per month. Sheikh Mohsin works at a bakery for ₹50 per day. Sheikh Arbaz works as a scraps loader after school. Sheikh Zameer, a student of Class 9, sells samosas after school. After class, Sheikh Ayaan goes to assist at a catering service.

Nida Kausar Sheikh, whose mother assists at a medicine shop, goes after school to clean utensils in homes for ₹200 per month. Sheikh Faizan goes after school to work at a paan (betel leaf) shop, not his own, for ₹60 per day. Sheikh Aleem’s mother works as a sweeper; he goes to work at a chicken shop for ₹150 per day. Sadia Sheikh, a student of Class 9, assists her mother at a samosa shop. Aleeza Shafi Shah, who is from a broken family, goes after classes to look after children and is paid ₹500 per month. Sana Wahid’s mother washes utensils in different homes, and Sana too works after school cleaning houses, which give her ₹500 per month.

Sheikh Tanveer Jahan, the principal of the high school section, says the trend is that after school hours, female students go to houses of others to wash dishes and clean, while the boys go to work at tea stalls, samosas shops, motor garages, construction sites, and the like. Sheikh Reshma Begam, principal of the primary section, says, “When we first started the school, no families wanted to send the kids to the school because they felt that their livelihood will be disrupted.”

Every year before the start of the academic session, the school’s teachers visit parents and convince them to enrol their children. “We give all the books, notebooks and uniform. We keep them engaged throughout the year,” says Sheikh Reshma Begam, adding that no parental support can be expected to these children, given the distressing circumstances of their families. Sheikh Tanveer Jahan adds: “The parents are extremely poor. Sometimes children fall sick. We give them medical aid and doctor’s fees.”

Nazim Malik, who has been teaching here for 11 years, says: “There is a longing in these children to study. Some children emerging out of this school went on to enrol in colleges and into pharmacy courses, but most are forced by their circumstances to go back into sundry jobs in catering services, motorcycle garages, etc.”

This school is not a religious madrassa. I looked at some of the books used to teach the students. The textbook on “History and Citizenship” opens with a page on India’s national anthem and a pledge, while the very second page teaches the Preamble of the Constitution of India. The pledge reads: “Bharat is my country. All Bhartiya are my brothers and sisters…”

 The pledge on the “History and Citizenship” textbook

This school has gone out of its way to lift these children from the most wretched conditions of human life. But it doesn’t have a decent building worth a photograph. Running purely on charitable contributions, the Khairul Momineen School gives an insight into how the country’s development process has left vast sections of India’s children in destitution. These children are making the best way ahead in the worst of circumstances. They do not need Islamic reform—they need clothes, they need books, they need classrooms, they need bicycles, and most importantly, they need food to eat.