Why are marginalised students dropping out of elite colleges? It’s the culture

Adapting to the culture of elite institutions becomes especially difficult for rural students without systems in place to provide them with mental and emotional support. The founding ideals of institutions like IITs and IIMs are rooted in meritocracy. When higher education upholds caste hierarchies instead of dismantling them, it betrays its very purpose.

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B.R. Ambedkar famously said, “Educate, Agitate, Organise", and notably, education comes first. Marginalised communities educate themselves, organise, and yet struggle in pursuit of education because the universities fail to safeguard their interests. Once universities become safe havens, without discrimination, shared learning can foster invincible collective strength. Therefore, education must be the top priority for students from disadvantaged backgrounds, ensuring they are not merely used as foot soldiers or vote banks in divisive agendas of majoritarian regimes.

A HISTORY OF LEARNING

Systemic inequality was challenged by Chhatrapati Shahu Maharaj through education. In the early 20th century, as a ruler of Kolhapur, he implemented reservations in education and employment for marginalised communities, and was one of the first to do so. Karmaveer Bhaurao Patil created history by founding the Rayat Shikshan Sanstha (Rayat Educational Institute) in Satara in 1919, an institute that has grown to become one of the largest educational networks in Maharashtra with a focus on providing quality, affordable education to the socially and economically marginalised. In the mid-19th century, Jyotirao Phule and Savitribai Phule challenged Brahminical dominance by opening the first school for girls and lower-caste children in Pune.

At a time when education was denied to the oppressed, their efforts laid the foundation for an inclusive and just society. Their lives and struggles stand as powerful examples, showing that education is not just a means of learning, but a weapon to fight injustice. These pioneering efforts were not just about providing literacy, they were about building cultural capital for the marginalised. By fostering access to knowledge, values and institutional spaces, they empowered oppressed communities to claim legitimacy and visibility in a society that had long denied them both.

Youth from rural and marginalised backgrounds in India and abroad are often identified as “underprivileged". Their cultural identity itself becomes their cultural capital. Being excluded from the dominant social classes for generations constantly reminds them of their fragile social position. Many marginalised communities constantly battle the lack of cultural capital within themselves even today, after 200 years.

A SENSE OF BELONGING

The concept of “cultural capital" was introduced by French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu, born in 1930 to a working-class family. According to this idea, the first element of cultural capital is belonging to a specific social class. The second and very significant aspect includes the skills, clothing, cultural practices, resources and exposure a person gains as part of a particular social group. From these two components, the meaning of cultural capital becomes clear.

When we look at the cultural capital of individuals from marginalised communities through this framework, we begin to understand its impact on their journey through higher education. For example, in academic settings a Dalit student refuses to speak in fear of being mocked for bad English or “impure" dialects. Likewise, most students lose opportunities and access to jobs and internships because their profiles and networks aren’t as polished and well-defined as their counterparts.

Due to these disparities, many students from marginalised groups face constant mental stress. They experience an inner burden when they sit beside peers wearing expensive branded clothes, knowing they must compete with them in the same academic and job market. The simultaneous awareness of personal poverty and the symbolic mental pressure of others’ wealth creates a difficult learning environment. Of course, this is not to say that wealthy students should not dress according to their means. The point is that an individual’s cultural capital continuously shapes their educational experience. This struggle continues even in the job market. A student with labouring parents has worked through their life, toiling in farms and work sites, yet they will be dismissed as lacking “work experience" or a “life skill". In comparison, consider your classmates doing stints at NGOs funded by their parents and peer networks; it is suddenly a recognisable skill and a passion project.

At the level of educational policy, this issue is still largely ignored. Cultural capital is seen merely as an academic or sociological concept. The fact that differences in cultural capital prevent marginalised students from fully benefiting from higher education is not widely acknowledged. While individual foundations and organisations continue to work to bridge these gaps, it is crucial to engage in policy-level discussion on cultural capital and, more importantly, initiate coordinated efforts by policymakers, social workers, thinkers and researchers to bring about meaningful change.

A NARROW LENS

Policymakers often promote skill-based education as a pathway to employability. When generations of marginalised communities have been systematically exploited by capitalist systems, is it just to once again reduce them to mere labourers in the name of equipping them with skills? Many rural students, despite their academic potential, are misled into choosing vocational training courses, believing it to be the only viable path to employment. Despite being capable of competing at IITs or global institutions, they fall into this trap of industrial training institutes. Education must be more than a credential; it must be a vehicle for dignity, self-respect and representation.

For many disadvantaged students, international universities offer a more equitable alternative, with need-blind admissions, inclusive pedagogies and mentorship programs that actively work to counter the structural inequalities present in Indian institutions. This is borne out by the findings of the parliamentary standing committee’s report, released in March, exposing stark inequities in Indian higher education. Fewer than 1% of private university students are from Scheduled Tribes, and only 5% from Scheduled Castes, with SC faculty representation at a dismal 4%. These figures reveal how both state and private institutions perpetuate exclusion, despite universities being hailed as equalisers.

In India, the government invests crores of rupees in institutions like the IITs, yet many of their graduates eventually settle abroad. In contrast, students from marginalised backgrounds who pursue global education through scholarships often return with a strong commitment to contribute to local and national development. The government and policy-makers must recognise this potential and take proactive steps to engage these scholars in key national projects. Creating pathways for them to work on diverse issues, ranging from education and health to technology and policy, can have a far-reaching impact. When Dalit, Bahujan and Adivasi scholars are given such opportunities, India moves closer to becoming a genuinely inclusive and equitable society.

Raju Kendre is the founder and CEO of Eklavya India Foundation, a non-profit focused on education and leadership. He is also a visiting fellow at CeMIS, University of Göttingen, under the German Chancellor Fellowship by the Alexander von Humboldt Foundation.

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