A luxurious reception organized by style-conscious educator and YouTube personality Khan Sir in Patna was a sensation of the city not just due to its celebrity guests and royal setting but also due to the surprise social media trolled his wife, AS Khan, for. The soiree was the couple's first appearance in public following their intimate May wedding ceremony, and while the bash itself was garish, it right away attracted online trolling for what was a deeply personal decision — the bride's ghoonghat.

AS Khan, a Bihar government official from Siwan, made a bright entry into the reception wearing a resplendent red lehenga choli with zardozi embroidery. Her finery, complemented by a heavy gold ornament set and impeccable make-up, was the definition of bridal elegance. But what was to be the cause of social media discussion was the choice to sport a long veil which covered half of her face.

Photos and videos taken during the night went viral, as some of the users praised the bride for her modesty and respect for tradition. Others considered the ghoonghat to be backward and fueled a controversy that overshadowed the wedding ceremony itself. While some came to defend AS Khan's right to dress up as she wanted on her wedding day, the trolling revealed the internet's ancient inability to find a balance between liberty for the individual and contemporary expectations.

Khan Sir, whose blunt nature and enormous fans following is a household name, is quiet over the controversy as of now. Earlier, he had gone on record to say that the couple had mutually agreed to tie the knot in a low-key wedding in May during India-Pakistan tensions, reflecting the reverence for their personal triumph.

The welcome, where the presence of the likes of Bihar Governor Arif Mohammad Khan and Tejashwi Yadav was seen, spoke volumes about the reputation of the couple. Trollage of AS Khan's hijab, on the other hand, reminded one of just how easily and quickly public admiration could become polarized and cynical web commentary.

In an era when all of our moments are out there, the wail gives rise to concerns about cultural expression, individual liberty, and increasing intolerance online. AS Khan's hijab was not merely fabric — it was a symbol that found itself ensnared in the battle between tradition and modernity.

The suspension of student visa appointments will be a blow to Indian students. But the US will also be affected. India topped the list of student visas issued in 2024, surpassing China. Trump administration measures against universities, US court rulings, and trade policy are some of what we include in our weekly summary.

It has been a week of mixed reports. Donald Trump's tariffs keep striking the world. A Court of International Trade ruling suspended the big taxes on Wednesday night. But a federal appeals court put a hold on this, and the US government can impose tariffs once more. There is uncertainty and confusion about this major economic policy.

For the students waiting for the American dream, it has been a tough week. The Trump administration suspended Harvard University from admitting foreign students, but the courts have stepped in and suspended the action. It also suspended visa appointments to all foreign students, and many applicants are worried.

In a major development, Elon Musk has departed from the White House. This was no surprise as he was merely a temporary administrator for the Department of Government Efficiency (Doge). However, this followed the tech billionaire's criticism of Trump's tax bill.

Students pass John Harvard's statue during the 374th graduation day at Harvard University in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Indians are one of the largest communities of foreign graduate students in the US.

In a free speech and civil liberty-proud democracy, the recent observation by the Bombay High Court should act as a reality check: dissent or senseless social media utterance by young people cannot and ought not be responded to with a sledgehammer of criminal justice.

The case in question? A 19-year-old Information Technology student in Pune reposts a highly problematic message criticizing India's actions during Operation Sindoor. Hours later, she deletes it, offers a public apology—yet, finds herself having to contend with not only campus rustication but criminal prosecution. Arrested. Confined in Yerwada prison. Refused bail.

"Do you want to make the student a criminal?" the Bombay High Court posed, in what must rank as one of the most scathing judicial rebukes of the year. And deservedly so.

The state's response, as explained by Justices Gauri Godse and Somasekhar Sundaresan, was not merely radical—it was reactionary. The student was deprived of her academic future, dignity, and inherent right to reform, all over an Instagram repost that was deleted within two hours. Her intent, rightfully bereft of malice, was overwhelmed by a public outcry and political nerves that were pulled taut.

And then there’s the role of the college—Sinhgad Academy of Engineering. Rusticating a student without even a hearing? Is that the kind of disciplinary justice we’re teaching in our classrooms?

The court saw through the performative patriotism. “National interest would not suffer because of a post uploaded by a student who has realised her mistake,” it observed with sharp clarity.

If India has to be a democracy for the young, then this moment—this judicial moment of courage—has to be a moment of turning. Because if we begin criminalizing youthful errors as sedition or subversion, we're not safeguarding the country. We're just suffocating its future.

To lakhs of aspiring engineers in India, the JEE Main is not only an entrance exam—it's a door to destiny. And so, when irregularities in the 2025 results cropped up, what started out as scattered instances soon began to look like the symptoms of a more profound, more sinister failure.

As a journalist covering education for years, I’ve seen high-stakes exams stir up anxiety, but this year’s JEE Main controversy feels different—more systemic, more silent, and far more damaging.

It began with rumors. Some students reported alteration in their scorecards after they downloaded them. One candidate I interviewed was perplexed: "I downloaded my scorecard shortly after the results went online. When I checked again after an hour, my percentile had decreased. The rest of the stuff was still the same—my name, roll number—but the score was different."

Others complained of blank response sheets, lost attempts, and unexplained rank changes. As these complaints became louder on social media platforms and student forums, what became more apparent was not only the existence of technical glitches, but also the complete lack of a clear mechanism to report or rectify them.

The National Testing Agency (NTA), which holds the responsibility of conducting JEE Main, has till now remained stoic in its silence. Students wrote emails, took screenshots, and appealed—only to be met with generic responses saying that "marks are according to NTA records." No reasoning, no escalation, no closure.

This isn't merely about defective results. It's about a system that does not hold itself accountable and stifles student complaints as background noise instead of signals of systemic decay. For a generation already struggling with insecurity, this digital obscurity only heaps more emotional and intellectual weight upon them.

Thankfully, the judiciary woke up. Two students, Shashank Pandey and Anusha Gupta, approached the Delhi High Court separately, claiming their scorecards had been tampered with after being declared. The court perceived patterns, not accidents, and joined both cases for a wider investigation.

On May 20, the Delhi High Court noted that the problem may not be in isolation and suggested possible backend or network-level meddling. In a heartening decision, the court called for an audit—not any audit, mind you, but a forensic examination by the National Cyber Forensic Laboratory (NCFL), India's top digital forensics organization.

The NCFL will now review the NTA's server logs, audit trails, and metadata to find out what actually went wrong. Its report, due May 29, may be decisive.

What's playing out here isn't simply a tech glitch—it's a crisis of credibility. The JEE Main is a national exam that has the capability of deciding the future of students. If its result cannot be relied upon, then what does that reflect on our commitment to fairness?

More significantly, how many students did not even know their scores were manipulated? What if the problem has denied deserving candidates a chance at JEE Advanced or even a seat at a top NIT?

Some students think the issue is more sinister. "This is not about five or ten students. It could be hundreds, possibly even more. Some might never even get to know they were affected," said one aspirant to me.

A strong grievance redressal system that is timely, transparent, and accountable. Safe access to audit trails for score generation, preferably to all stakeholders. Third-party, independent verification of exam results and platforms to revive confidence in the system.

Above all, they demand honesty. "Stop pretending the system is perfect," said a student. "We need transparency, not tokenism."

As NCFL starts investigating, one thing is sure: This scandal has sparked a reckoning for online governance within India's education system. Whether it results in a solution or dies in bureaucratic silence only time will tell.

For now, the government has the ball—and time's running out. If we can't assure our students that they will be treated fairly in something as basic as their exam marks, we owe them better than apologies. We owe them a fresh system—one founded on openness, accountability, and trust.

The tensions between the Delhi Public School (DPS), Dwarka, and the Directorate of Education (DoE) intensified on Monday when the school lodged a petition in the Central District High Court to challenge the DoE's order to reinstate more than 30 students who were previously expelled for not paying disputed fee hike. 

The case was adjourned and will be heard on Wednesday, with Justice Vikas Mahajan being present at the hearing. Following a controversial episode earlier this month, the petition alleges that the school removed 32 students from its rolls on May 9 and allegedly prevented them entering the building on may 13 by placing private security guards at the gates. Parents were outraged by the action and protested, refusing to pay any of their fees as the fees had not been approved by either the Department of Defence or the Government. 

The DoE issued a directive on May 15 to reinstate the students, in response to complaints from parents. Existing court directions, and that the department called the expulsions. (C) 

In its appeal, DPS Dwarka argued that the order from the DoE goes against the Delhi School Education Act and Rules, 1973, which allow school officials to dismiss students from their rolls for fee-paying irregularities. The school denounced the directive as "arbitrary" and claimed that it lacked any legal basis. The school has not been given a chance to voice its views, as stated in the petition.' 

Meanwhile, the high court is dealing with several cases that are related. A petition filed by more than 100 parents requesting administrative takeover of the school has been postponed by Justice Mahajan, who is leading the bench. An order will be given by Justice Sachin Datta to reinstate expelled students, as he has also made a plea.

In a country where access to higher education often stops at the doorstep of economic hardship, the Madras University Free Education Scheme (MUFES) quietly stands as a game-changer. Operational since 2010, this initiative isn’t just another scholarship; it’s a lifeline for students from economically backward families who aspire to break the cycle of poverty through education.

What sets MUFES apart is its targeted approach. Reserved for Tamil Nadu students with an annual family income of ₹3 lakh or less, it carves out a path for Plus 2 graduates to secure admission in professional courses across colleges affiliated with the University of Madras. And unlike most schemes that are lost in the fine print, MUFES is refreshingly clear in its eligibility criteria: you need to be a native student, pass Plus 2 in a single attempt, and fit into one of the three thoughtfully crafted categories—socially vulnerable groups like orphans and widows' children, physically challenged and first-generation learners, or pure merit-based achievers.

Equally noteworthy is the seat structure. By allocating at least three additional seats per college across Chennai, Thiruvalluvar, and Kancheepuram districts—specifically above the sanctioned intake—MUFES avoids displacing other students while still making room for inclusion. It’s a model many other universities would do well to adopt.

Yes, the application process involves scanning documents, validating income certificates, and navigating the university website. But what’s a few steps when the reward is a free college degree and the chance to change your family’s future?

In an education landscape often criticized for being exclusionary, MUFES proves what a public university can achieve when access is prioritized over privilege. If you know a student who just passed Plus 2 and dreams of college but fears the financial burden—tell them about MUFES. This isn't just a scheme; it’s hope, opportunity, and empowerment rolled into one.

In a country as fundamentally plural as India, where every classroom is a mini-representations of its multicultural nature, a recent incident in Panipat has once again brought to the forefront the thin line between pluralism and pedagogy.

A private institution, Saraswati Vidya Mandir in Panipat, Haryana, sacked a teacher recently after she had recited the Kalma, an Islamic creed, in a lesson on Class 8. The teacher, Mahjib Ansari, also known as "Mahi" by her students, was a teacher of Sanskrit. She has been accused of teaching religious content that, as per the school and concerned parents, lies beyond the purview of prescribed syllabi.

The uproar started when children were heard reciting the Kalma in their homes. The parents, in shock, lodged complaints to the school administration. This led to the teacher's immediate dismissal and by community groups, including the Hindu Mahasabha members.

As editors and journalists, we must tread warily here. Was the action an indoctrination ploy, or an impromptu outburst of cultural sharing as a response to student curiosity? The school principal subsequently clarified that the teacher had recited Kalma verses when asked by students about Islamic prayers. The teacher apologized, confessing that the action might have crossed professional etiquette, although perhaps not out of a malignant intent.

The secular philosophy, as enshrined in the Indian Constitution, does not entail the elimination of religion from public life—it entails instead equal regard and responsible neutrality. In keeping with that spirit, for instance, while it is proper that parents take special care about what is being taught, we also have to ask ourselves: are our classrooms ready to teach about multiple faiths with no fear?

This episode is not one religion against another—rather, it is about how education has to navigate the landscape of India's religious diversity sensitively, professionally, and responsibly. A well-intentioned debate on religious practice, unattached to curriculum and context, can be a tinderbox, particularly in today's hyper-sensitive environment.

The firing of the teacher may have closed the book, but it needs to open a larger one—how do we teach teachers how to handle pluralism in teaching? Can we provide schools with enough strength to encourage comparative study of religions, within the boundaries of constitutional values and pedagogic integrity?

It is our responsibility to familiarize our students with their own faiths and those of others—not to convert, but to coexist. By this, we are reinforcing the secular fabric that unites India. May this not become an episode of fragmentation, but a lesson in unity through understanding.

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