"Dream, Dream, Dream! Conduct these dreams into thoughts, and then transform them into action."
- Dr. A. P. J. Abdul Kalam
2 Jul 2025
Beneath the Mayapuri flyover in Kirti Nagar, west Delhi, where city sounds never cease, an extraordinary scene unfolds every morning. Around 100 young children aged 8 to 14 gather beside a metro pillar, sitting on patched grass mats amid swirling dust under the relentless sounds of trucks and the honking of impatient drivers; a small chorus of hope rises. With microphones and loudspeakers, volunteers do battle with noise to teach lessons in math, reading, and self-belief.
As reported by the Times of India, thirteen-year-old Sakshi quietly expresses her father’s dream: “Papa ka sapna hai, ki main CA banu.” Nearby, 14-year-old Pinki gazes at a pole beside the flyover. “Main ise bina dare chadh sakti hoon,” she says confidently, aspiring to become a malkhamb champion. Their voices, soft yet with confidence, rise above, proving that fate does not decide their dreams.
Nine-year-old Choti plays with the buckle on her worn blue bag. Her father manufactures these buckles, and her mother labors in a nearby factory. Yet Choti dreams of a different future. “Mujhe doctor banna hai,” she reflects. Eleven-year-old Radhika, her voice filled with determination, tells the volunteers she wants to be a police officer. “This class has taught me to be brave and never back down.” In this concrete shelter, ambition blossoms, children dreaming of becoming CAs, doctors, athletes, and police officers, all against a backdrop that might have otherwise crushed their hopes.
The teachers leading these sessions are volunteers who once walked the same path. Two are pursuing degrees in BEd, another is studying for a master’s in computer science, all returning to uplift the very community that shaped them. Twenty-one-year-old Murari Chaudhary, a BEd student, shares, “I grew up right here in this very camp… There was chaos, noise, and not much to look up to, except maybe the wrong kind of role models.” He once dreamed of joining the military.
Today, he uses that same drive to teach children who, like him, once struggled to believe in themselves.
Twenty-year-old Moni teaches the youngest kids. She says she had to stop studying after Class 12 because of financial problems.
India’s overburdened government schools often assign one teacher to more than 60 students. Here, the flyover classroom maintains a comfortable ratio of 20–25 students per instructor, allowing for much-needed personalization and care. Many students who couldn't write their name just a year ago today shine brightly as they solve math problems with ease. Volunteers celebrate each milestone, recognizing that in environments like these, believing in oneself is half the battle won.
Every day, in this humble classroom, a new hope grows. Where others see dust and noise, these educators and students see opportunity. Chalkboards appear on metro pillars, lessons echo in loudspeakers, and young faces light up with pride at each letter recognized and every problem solved. Here, community-driven education is transforming public space into a shared arena for learning and aspiration.
Children learn to read and write, but more importantly, they learn that their dreams of becoming CAs, doctors, athletes, or police are not beyond reach. This initiative addresses two urgent issues: the sheer lack of personalized attention in overcrowded state schools and the emotional toll of living in underprivileged conditions. By stepping in, these young volunteers do more than teach; they give students a voice, a space, and the emotional safety to dream big.