A requiem for Nali-Kali

The reported decision of the Government of Karnataka to phase out the Nali-Kali scheme beginning in the 2026–27 academic year (DH, Feb 11) marks more than an administrative change. For many educators, parents, and policy observers, it feels like the quiet fading of one of the most creative experiments in India's public education.

Launched in 1995–96, Nali-Kali—literally “learn and play”—was Karnataka’s pioneering effort to reimagine early primary education in government schools. At a time when rote learning, rigid seating, and teacher-centred instruction dominated classrooms, it introduced activity-based learning, colourful learning corners, peer interaction, and flexible pacing. It was especially designed for multi-grade rural classrooms, where resources were scarce but human potential abundant.

For nearly three decades, the programme reshaped the experience of young children in thousands of government schools. Classrooms became vibrant spaces of movement and expression. Children sang, narrated, solved puzzles, worked in groups, and learnt collaboratively. Teachers, instead of merely transmitting textbook content, became facilitators of learning.

Peer dynamics in multi-grade settings fostered cooperation rather than competition. Activity zones reduced hierarchical rigidity. Children progressed at varied paces without stigma. The atmosphere was warmer, less authoritarian. In an era that increasingly recognises mental well-being and inclusion as central to schooling, such attributes are not luxuries; they are foundational to equitable education.

For first-generation learners—many from Scheduled Castes, Scheduled Tribes, Backward Classes, minority communities, and economically vulnerable households—this shift was transformative. School ceased to be intimidating; it became welcoming.

More importantly, Nali-Kali represented more than a technique. It echoed principles akin to Mahatma Gandhi's Nai Talim philosophy—learning through activity, integrating head, heart and hand, and rooting education in joy rather than fear. Gandhi believed that education must cultivate confidence, creativity and moral development alongside literacy. Nali-Kali reflected that spirit in contemporary form.

The government’s rationale for phasing out the scheme cannot be dismissed lightly. Reports suggest concerns about poor learning outcomes, implementation gaps and increased teacher workload. Foundational literacy and numeracy are now national priorities. If evidence shows children are not achieving essential competencies, corrective action is necessary. But discarding the model entirely risks conflating implementation failures with conceptual inadequacy. The central question remains: was the problem the philosophy of Nali-Kali—or its implementation?

Many policy innovations falter not because they are conceptually flawed, but because they are unevenly institutionalised. Teacher training may have been inconsistent. Monitoring systems may have assessed outcomes in ways misaligned with activity-based pedagogy. Multi-grade classrooms, though pedagogically rich, require sustained administrative support. Without it, even the most imaginative models struggle.

As Karnataka shifts towards structured single-grade classrooms and extends remedial initiatives like Ganitha-Ganaka, efficiency may increase. Standardisation may improve assessment alignment. Yet one must ask: what might be lost?

The debate compels reflection on how we define "quality". If quality is reduced solely to standardised test scores, pedagogical diversity narrows. But education also includes confidence in speaking, curiosity in questioning, freedom from fear, and the ability to collaborate. These outcomes are harder to quantify but deeply consequential.

Field reports over the years often noted reduced early-grade dropout, higher participation, and greater parental trust in government schools where Nali-Kali was effectively implemented. For marginalised communities, government schools are not laboratories; they are lifelines. When children ran into classrooms with enthusiasm, the state earned moral credibility.

Public policy in India often moves in cycles of innovation and abandonment. Reform commissions produce visionary reports, and pilot programmes generate excitement. And yet, without sustained consolidation, initiatives are replaced before they mature. Institutional memory weakens. Teachers adapt repeatedly to shifting frameworks. Continuity becomes the casualty of reform.

If Nali-Kali must be restructured, let reform not erase its legacy. A more balanced approach could have involved independent evaluation of long-term outcomes, strengthened teacher training, hybrid models combining structure with creativity, and improved monitoring mechanisms aligned with activity-based pedagogy.

A requiem is not an act of nostalgia. It is an act of recognition. 

Nali-Kali taught us that government schools could innovate. It demonstrated that joy and learning are not opposites. It carried forward, in its own modest way, the ethos that education should serve the last child with dignity.

As Karnataka embarks on a new pedagogical path, it would do well to remember that foundational learning is not merely about mastering letters and numbers. It is about cultivating confidence, curiosity, and belonging. Those who designed Nali-Kali understood that wonder is the first step in learning.

(The writer is an honorary professor at Mahatma Gandhi Rural Development and Panchayat Raj University, Gadag)