Thousands of protesters cheered as Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan resigned in New Delhi on July 25, 2026. — Reuters
SITAMARHI: Ashok Kumar knows Narendra Modi transformed his life for the better.
He recalls as a child watching his farming parents struggle financially—and how life changed after Modi took office in 2014. His government expanded benefits like affordable cooking gas and direct farm subsidies, sparking hope for a brighter future for Ashok and his younger brother Abhishek. Their parents rewarded Modi with votes in three elections.
But last week, 25-year-old Ashok found himself protesting alongside others at Jantar Mantar, a historic observatory that serves as Delhi’s main gathering site. The protests were led by the Cockroach Janta Party, a satirical movement that has become a voice for India’s disillusioned youth.
The protests erupted after the government canceled the results of a national medical exam for around 2 million students, including Abhishek, after test questions were leaked.
In India, standardized tests serve as a pathway into the middle class. The country limits access to thousands of public sector jobs—including diplomats, administrators, clerks, and forest rangers—through tough exams that students spend years and small fortunes preparing for.
Success is statistically more difficult than gaining admission to Harvard, but the rewards include lifelong job security, pensions, and housing benefits unavailable in the private sector. Corporate job growth has slowed from 11% annually before 2020 to about 3%, according to Marcellus Investment Managers.
Since 2014, at least two dozen exams have had results invalidated due to leaks, according to a Reuters review of public records and media reports. Yet this recent incident triggered one of India’s largest protests in decades.
Tens of thousands took to the streets in Delhi and other cities to express outrage over the repeated failures of an exam system that acts as a barrier to upward mobility—often called the “iron rice bowl” in Asia, symbolizing job security.
Four years ago, Ashok moved from his home state of Bihar—India’s poorest per capita—to Delhi. He earned a master’s degree and enrolled in a test-prep school, trying repeatedly but failing to crack the highly competitive civil service exams. His younger brother Abhishek later joined him to prepare for a similar medical school test.
Many young people, frustrated by unfulfilled promises, have joined demonstrations, highlighting issues often overshadowed by India’s impressive economic growth. Complaints include widening income inequality, rising youth unemployment, and declining free speech rights, according to Reuters interviews with dozens during the six days of protests. Youth unemployment for those under 30 is three times higher than the overall rate.
Protesters held up posters mocking Modi and his ministers using strong language, challenging the image of the indomitable leader who has defeated India’s once-powerful Congress party and intimidated the free press, critics say.
Modi’s office declined to comment. The government claims that claims of an unemployment crisis are exaggerated and that India’s economic fundamentals remain solid.
### The People’s Party
The Cockroach Janta Party (or “People’s Party”) was named after a remark made by India’s chief justice earlier this year, referring to unemployed youth.
He later clarified that his comments were misunderstood.
On July 20, over 50,000 people tried to march on Parliament. Police responded with force, injuring 118 officers, but the demonstrators garnered sympathy online. The crowd of diverse age groups and social backgrounds grew, with Bollywood celebrities expressing support on social media.
Ashok shows a bruise from a police baton he received during a protest. “People normally divide themselves by religion, caste, or language,” he said. “But this was the first time they united over education.”
Delhi Police did not respond to questions about their handling of the protests.
By week’s end, the government bowed to the pressure, and Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan resigned—one of the few times Prime Minister Modi has conceded to public demands.
In response, the government announced stricter laws against exam leaks with harsher penalties, and Modi addressed India’s youth via video, promising to review the examination system. They also pledged compensation for families of students who committed suicide after exam leaks and promised to drop prosecutions of protesters.
Pradhan declined to comment.
### Living on rice and buffalo milk
India’s rapid economic growth took off in the 1990s after ending decades of protectionism and opening up to global markets.
Today, the country hosts leading firms that provide back-office services for Wall Street and Silicon Valley. It has been among the world’s fastest-growing large economies, with around half a billion people now considered middle class.
But in Bihar, Ashok and Abhishek’s home state, poverty remains rampant. Reuters journalists visited their family home—set in a remote part of Bihar—where a buffalo tethered in a dung-filled yard provides milk, which their mother sells to supplement their father’s income from rice farming.
The recent invalidation of the medical entrance exam crushed Abhishek’s hopes. He tried three times and failed.
“I thought becoming a doctor would help me buy my mother jewelry and a TV,” Abhishek said. Now, he’s worried about even asking for money to replace his worn flip-flops.
“How much can I study?” he asked. “I can’t prepare this much again.”
Ashok had decided early on to pursue a government job, one of the few opportunities for ambitious Biharis eager to escape farm life.
He attended exam-prep schools while living at home, studying by lantern when the electricity was out. “I thought hard work alone would be enough,” he remembered.
But a series of cheating scandals, especially in Bihar, disillusioned him. In 2015, headlines worldwide showed relatives and friends of exam candidates climbing buildings to sneak answers through windows.
“Cheats Climb High,” one American news site headlined.
As recently as 2024, hundreds protested online over alleged leaks of a civil service exam. The Bihar government, which is led by Modi’s party, claimed results were only slightly irregular and certified the results.
Ashok still fell short, missing the cutoff by just ten points. Having prepared for more competitive exams, he felt bitter about his near-miss.
Over the past four years, he’s taken seven exams but failed each time, spending over $10,000—mostly saved from his father’s hard work.
Back in his cramped Delhi apartment, peeling walls are decorated with posters, including one quoting Hindu monk Swami Vivekananda: “Arise, awake, and stop not until your goal is achieved,” though Ashok admits the sentiment feels distant.
“The public exam system has pretty much collapsed,” he said simply.
### For the future of the children
Divya Unny is one of India’s “winners.”
She grew up during India’s economic liberalization and worked for a popular fashion magazine before moving into filmmaking and directing. Her feminist short films have gained millions of views on YouTube.
But in July, she joined thousands of disillusioned protesters at Jantar Mantar. Chanting “Inquilab Zindabad”—meaning “Long Live the Revolution”—and with Michael Jackson’s “They Don’t Care About Us” blasting from loudspeakers, she expressed her frustrations.
Based in Mumbai, Unny criticized the film industry’s focus on Hindu-nationalist themes and said wages haven’t kept pace with inflation.
Her reasons for protesting weren’t just personal. She had built a bond with Simran Singh, the 21-year-old daughter of her housekeeper, Mamta. After Simran’s medical exam results were invalidated, she was deeply upset.
Unny, accompanied by her husband, traveled a 17-hour train ride with her to join the demonstration, wearing her late mother’s sari and a flower in her hair.
“We just wanted to support the future of this country’s children,” she explained.
Mamta, her housekeeper, came to Mumbai from Bihar seeking a better life for herself and Simran. She worked long hours but also spent over $3,000 on coaching for her daughter. Simran dedicated herself entirely to her studies, isolating from friends to prepare.
After the exam cancellation, Mamta said, Simran expected to score enough to enter medical school. But media reports of irregularities haunted her, and she shut herself away for days, refusing to eat.
Later, the government announced the results void due to leaks and promised an investigation. The July retest saw her score drop below her expectations, leading her to abandon her dream of medicine altogether.
“Now she’s 21,” Mamta sighed. “By next year she’ll be 22, and we’ll keep doing this forever. When will she get to just live her life?”
