Students upload emojis, random photos in place of documents in FYJC admissions
Mahesh Palekar, director of Secondary and Higher Secondary Education, said on Tuesday: 'This is a misuse of technology. The online system is meant to simplify admissions, and we expect students to use technology responsibly for such important tasks.'
The online admission process, conducted by the Directorate of Secondary and Higher Secondary Education, requires students to submit two sets of information. In Part One, students must enter personal and academic details, including their name, SSC seat number, marks, marksheet, and category documents. Part Two involves selecting preferred junior colleges.
In the first two rounds, several applications had to be flagged due to incorrect or incomplete information. Education officials cautioned students that improper use of the system not only affects individual applicants but also causes delays for others in the process.
Despite the system being designed for convenience, education officials said that some students uploaded various kinds of emojis or unrelated pictures instead of the mandatory documents. This led to complications in verification during the admission process.
Hence, the education department has urged students and guardians to take the admission process seriously and ensure that all data and documents are uploaded correctly to avoid rejections or delays.
'Even if students have uploaded emojis or unrelated images in place of certificates, they are still required to present all the original documents at the institute level. If anything is missing, the student may not get admission,' said Palekar.
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Hindustan Times
6 days ago
- Hindustan Times
Why SC's dog order is mission impossible in Delhi
Delhi's civic authorities are staring at an impossible task after the Supreme Court on Monday ordered that all stray dogs in the city be rounded up within two months, experts warned, highlighting how the city has no permanent dog shelter, no updated count of its stray population, inadequate manpower, and no funds to feed or house the estimated million-odd animals. According to an MCD report, 2,70,172 dogs were sterilised over the past three years. (Sanjeev Verma/HT Photo) From space requirements to funding gaps, experts and officials agree: the capital is simply not equipped to execute the order. They add that the failure of the Municipal Corporation of Delhi's (MCD) Animal Birth Control (ABC) and immunisation programme has worsened the problem, making large-scale capture and housing both impractical and inhumane. No permanent shelters At present, MCD operates 20 Animal Birth Control (ABC) centres in partnership with NGOs. These are temporary holding units for sterilisation, where dogs are kept for up to 10 days post-surgery before being released back to their territories -- a system in line with the Animal Birth Control (Dogs) Rules, 2023. Turning these ABC units into permanent shelters, officials warn, would at best accommodate 3,500–4,000 dogs at a time. With Delhi's street dog population estimated close to a million, that would leave more than 96% of the animals without a place to go. 'Even if every existing kennel is repurposed, the space is a fraction of what would be needed,' a veterinary department official said. An unknown population The last pan-Delhi dog census was conducted in 2009, when the population was pegged at 560,000. A 2019 Delhi Assembly sub-committee estimated the number at 800,000. Officials now put it close to a million, but no formal survey has been conducted in years. Without accurate data, experts say, the city cannot even plan for the space, manpower and feeding costs required. Feeding costs alone could cripple the cash-strapped MCD. Standing committee chairperson Satya Sharma estimates that even at a modest ₹40 per dog per day, feeding close to a million dogs would cost around ₹3 crore daily — or over ₹1,000 crore a year. 'And that's without factoring in salaries, transport, medical care, or construction,' said an MCD official, adding that sterilisation payments to NGOs are already delayed. At present, NGOs are paid ₹1,000 per dog for sterilisation and post-operative care, but many say dues remain pending. Maneka Gandhi, former MP and animal rights activist, called the SC's timeline 'impossible' without billions in funding. 'They would need 1,000–2,000 centres so dogs don't fight, all located away from residential areas. Construction alone would cost ₹4–5 crore per centre. Feeding alone could cost ₹5 crore a year for the most basic arrangement. Overall, they'd be looking at spending around ₹10,000 crore — money the Delhi government simply does not have,' she said. The lack of space Under current rules, each dog needs a minimum of 12 sq ft of space during sterilisation. For permanent housing, veterinary experts say, that rises to 40–45 sq ft per dog to prevent stress, disease and fights. 'To humanely house even half the estimated population, you'd need hundreds of acres and thousands of enclosures. You can't just pile dogs into overcrowded sheds — they will fight, spread disease, and die in large numbers,' said Ravindra Sharma, former director of veterinary services. 'And you cannot mix dogs from different territories; they will become aggressive.' The MCD sub-committee on dogs has asked officials to identify community halls, unused municipal properties and 77 Delhi government veterinary facilities as potential shelter sites. But none of these are equipped for long-term animal care. Then comes the issue of catching and transporting a million dogs, which itself would require hundreds of animal catchers, trained handlers, ambulances, and quarantine units -- all of which the MCD lacks. At present, only two dog-catching vans operate in each of the 12 administrative zones. Even the SC's directive to start with 'ferocious' dogs poses logistical hurdles. The MCD plans to prepare a list of 1,000 aggressive dogs per zone — 12,000 in total — based on repeated bite complaints. But officials admit that identifying and capturing even this smaller group will stretch resources. Experts warn Animal welfare groups have reacted sharply to the SC order, warning of mass suffering if dogs are removed en masse without infrastructure. 'This is not public safety -- it is an inhumane approach that will backfire,' said Sanjay Mohapatra of House of Strays. 'Attempting to build and maintain enough shelters for these numbers overnight is impossible. Overcrowding will cause immense suffering, spread of disease, and deaths.' Gauri Maulekhi of People for Animals said the MCD's own facilities are already 'underperforming' and cannot handle lifetime care. 'Existing NGO shelters are overcrowded. Without capacity, any large-scale capture will end in disaster,' she said, accusing authorities of inflating sterilisation figures and refusing independent oversight. Many experts point to the failure of the MCD's ABC and vaccination programme as the root cause. According to an MCD report, 2,70,172 dogs were sterilised over the past three years — about 10,000 a month. Over seven years, officials claim nearly 700,000 sterilised, but activists dispute the numbers. 'Even if these numbers were accurate, sterilisation has to be sustained at over 70% coverage in each locality to stabilise populations. That has not been happening,' Maulekhi said. Sonya Ghosh, an activist who has worked on setting up feeding points in Delhi, said the ABC centres themselves have minimal capacity. 'Most hold only 20–30 dogs at a time — just enough for one surgical batch. The city's 77 veterinary hospitals are poorly staffed, under-equipped, and not being used for animal care as they should be.' Several activists have also stressed that the eight-week timeline set by the SC is not grounded in operational reality. Maneka Gandhi said any attempt to rush the process would cause 'dogs to be crammed together in unsafe, unsanitary conditions' leading to high mortality. 'Dogs are territorial. Moving them en masse will make them fight. You will create a bigger problem.' The SC's order also raises legal contradictions. Under the ABC Rules, community dogs must be sterilised, vaccinated, and released back to their territories — not permanently relocated. Mohapatra warned that bypassing this framework could invite legal challenges and worsen human-animal conflict. 'The law is designed to stabilise populations over time while maintaining community balance,' he said. 'Sheltering all dogs is neither feasible nor legally supported.' As Delhi's civic bodies scramble to identify properties and prepare lists of 'aggressive' dogs, activists warn that the outcome could be chaotic: overcrowded pounds, disease outbreaks, mounting public complaints, and massive financial strain.
Hindustan Times
09-08-2025
- Hindustan Times
From Kakori to Aminabad, twin sites resonate with spirit of freedom fighters' valour
History merges with the timeless appeal of valour in the quest for freedom at the sleepy village of Kakori, about 20 km from the state capital, and the 120-year-old Chhedi Lal Dharmshala in a busy lane of Aminabad in the heart of Lucknow. The two sites pulsate with the spirit of patriotism even 100 years after the Kakori Train Action that dealt a blow to the British government's prestige. The Chhedi Lal Dharmshala in Aminabad, Lucknow. (Mushtaq Ali/HT Photo) A visit to Room No. 227 on the first floor of the Chhedi Lal Dharmshala conjures images of the day when Ram Prasad Bismil and his nine fellow freedom fighters might have come in while quietly planning the Kakori Action for August 8, 1925 initially. The room is the only renovated one at the dharmshala. 'We thought it should be honoured in the name of those who gave up their lives for the cause of freedom. We got the room renovated in 2019,' said dharmshala manager Ram Nath Gupta. In his book 'Lucknow ka Krantiteerth', Udai Khatri, historian and son of freedom fighter Ramkrishna Khatri, mentions that most of the revolutionaries stayed at Chhedi Lal Dharmshala, not as a group but as strangers. 'At the decided time, they all assembled and began walking towards the railway station. However, once they reached it, they found out that they missed the Number 8 down-train from Shahjahanpur to Lucknow, making them shift their plan for the next day,' the book mentions. They decided to take no chances and left Lucknow to reach the previous station and boarded the train on August 9. Three of them –Ashfaqullah Khan, Rajendra Nath Lahiri and Sachindra Nath Bakshi – took second class tickets. The others, including Ram Prasad Bismil, Chandrashekhar Azad, Mukundilal, Murarilal, Kundanlal, Banwarilal and Manmathnath Gupta, travelled third class and spread over the entire train, said Prof Aroop Chakrabarty, former head of the medieval and modern history department of Lucknow University. 'Those in the second class pulled the chain, the abrupt stoppage led to some commotion. The members jumped out to execute the plan. One of them rushed towards the engine while another headed to overpower the guard and take charge of the railway treasury,' Chakrabarty said. 'Carrying Germany-made Mauser pistols, they were quick to overpower the guard who was made to lie down on his belly. Two men stood on each side of the railway line while another group pushed out the heavy iron safe carrying railway collections from the stations on the route. Two of them who carried a huge hammer and chisel got into action on the safe. They fearlessly worked on the mission, however, when they saw a train progressing near them, they became a bit panicky, but they continued to accomplish the task and the train whistled off,' he said. Mita Bakshi, granddaughter of freedom fighter Sachindra Nath Bakshi who faced trial in the case, said the mission was planned to get more funds to buy more Mauser pistols from Germany. 'The members of Hindustan Socialist Republican Association had accomplished several small missions in villages and all those involved in any of these missions were taken under trial as part of the Kakori Train Action case,' Mita Bakshi said. As per an archival document (Hindustan Times has a copy) , a case was registered in the name of 28 people under Sections 121 (A) and 120 (B) of the Indian Penal Code read with Sections 396 and 302 of IPC after the three complaints by an English officer Horton. 'Mr Horton explains the cartridges which were recovered from the scene of the train dacoity – He says that were ten 300 bore German pistol cartridges. Three other and two more similar cartridges were marked respectively. Out of all these cartridges, twelve were marked DWMKK and one of these was loaded. All these were Mauser pistol cartridges,' the document reads. It also mentions that cash worth ₹3541, 3 paisa and 6 annas, GC notes worth ₹1012 and vouchers worth ₹125 and 14 paisa were carried away by the freedom fighters. Once the revolutionaries were arrested, the case began at Roshan-ud-daula Kachehri in December where Syyed Amin-ud-din was assigned as the special magistrate. 'Lucknow ki Chaya Mein,' a book by Ramkrishna Khatri, gives an account of the trial. 'A large number of people turned up outside the court and once our handcuffs were opened, one could not make out a difference between those accused and the public. Sighting the situation, police sought permission (for the freedom fighters) to be brought with bedis (cuffs with chains around the neck). However, we refused to wear the bedis, police forced us to wear them. They had two lorries and each lorry had five to six individuals at a time. While forcefully tying bedis, one amongst us, Vishnu Sharan Dubish got hurt in the leg on which we raised slogans - 'Bharat Mata ki Jai', 'Bhartiya Prajatantra ki Jai' and 'Vande Matram while reaching the kachahari,' the book reads. Another passage in the book mentions Basant Panchmi day in 1926 when revolutionaries tied saffron handkerchiefs and sang 'Rang de Basanti Chola' on their way. The next day, several people with saffron caps turned up from Kanyakubja College (now Jai Narain PG College) to the court and all sang 'Rang de Basanti Chola'. After a six-month trial at the Roshan-ud-daula Kachehri, the court shifted to a special sessions court with Hamilton as the special judge at the Rink Theatre (where the General Post Office stands today). The trial continued there for 10 to 11 months. Historian Ravi Bhatt said when the revolutionaries were in prison, some jailers and employees brought their family members to see them as a mark of respect. A letter by Sachindra Nath Bakshi to the Home Member of Government of United Province, mentions some demands made by them. It included at least 12 annas' diet as per their preference, one standard daily newspaper, dress, bedsheets and cots along with soaps, toothpaste, toothbrushes, indoor games. When freedom fighters assembled for action The Kakori Shaheed Smarak stands tall at Bajnagar village. Clad in dhoti-kurta, Munnilal Rajput (75), the caretaker with a wooden stick, recounts an eyewitness account he heard from his grandmother. 'My grandparents were devotees at a temple situated on the Shaheed Smarak compound. My grandmother told me that she was performing puja on August 8, 1925 (the day before the Kakori Train Action) when a group of young men entered the premises and began planning something. After some time, they left for the station but they failed to board the train. However, they turned up again at the same time and, barring a few others, went to the station again and the rest is history,' Rajput said. He said that he considers the freedom fighters as revered as the deities in the temple. 'I spend my entire day at the Smarak, cleaning the statues and helping the visitors to the place,' he added. The room of freedom fighter Ramkrishna Khatri has paintings of many freedom fighters. Khatri's grandson Rohit Khatri said that his grandfather got them painted when he was alive and the family has maintained the legacy.
Hindustan Times
08-08-2025
- Hindustan Times
Review: Learning to Make Tea for One by Andaleeb Wajid
There are perhaps few emotions as universal, yet as little discussed, as grief. Although religions have built extensive rituals around death and mourning, they are not as preoccupied with coming to grips with grief, relegating it to the realm of the personal. While they do provide structure and direction at a time when everything seems unmoored, grief largely remains an individual struggle and many have to create anew ways to process their loss or help a grieving person. Days of darkness and fear: A Covid-19 Care Centre in New Delhi in May 2021. (Sanjeev Verma/HT PHOTO) 232pp, ₹499; Speaking Tiger When grief becomes a collective emotion, it can be even more incapacitating. That was the case during the summer of 2021 in India. As the Covid-19 pandemic's deadly second wave surged across the country, almost everyone knew someone who died or was on the verge of death. Hospitals, graveyards, and crematoriums ran out of space, and bodies piled up. Amid the strict lockdown and social distancing norms, quotidian rituals and coping mechanisms, such as spending time with loved ones, often became impossible. Like many other traumatic events affecting millions of people across India — the demonetisation of high-value rupee notes in 2016, leading to financial difficulties, or daily-wage labourers walking for hundreds of miles after the sudden imposition of a lockdown in 2020 — there seems to be a collective amnesia or, perhaps, wilful forgetting around these events. This is understandable to some extent. Life moves on and it can be unproductive or difficult to dwell on the past. And yet, there is value in memorialising such events and ensuring a collective reckoning. These can help provide closure and reduce the chances of repeating past mistakes. Although there have been a couple of fiction and non-fiction works about Covid-19 in India, Andaleeb Wajid's Learning to Make Tea for One: Reflections on Love, Loss and Healing is, to my knowledge, the only book-length memoir about losing loved ones during the pandemic. While the author's story is deeply personal and does not touch upon the misgovernance and apathy that caused immense suffering, it is nevertheless a powerful reminder of how these forces shaped people's lives — and deaths. In April 2021, everyone in Wajid's house contracted Covid-19, except her younger son, Azhaan. Wajid, her mother-in-law; and her husband, Mansoor, were admitted to Covid-19 wards. While she was eventually discharged, the other two remained hospitalised for weeks, their condition slowly deteriorating. Just before her 24th wedding anniversary, Wajid's mother-in-law died due to complications from the disease. A few days later, Mansoor passed away. But this was not her first brush with death or illness. When she was 12, her father died suddenly after a heart attack. 'For many years, my father's death defined me,' writes Wajid. 'While the tears dried up after the first few months or so after his death, the hollowness refused to be replaced by anything or anyone. I stuck to my tragedy like I meant it to embrace me and never leave me.' She also faced multiple miscarriages, including one where the doctor diagnosed that her baby had been dead in utero for more than 15 days. LISTEN: Remembering not to forget - Andaleeb Wajid on the Books & Authors podcastThe memoir not only delves into grief but also other formative life experiences. Wajid got married in college — her father had arranged it to her cousin before his own death. Women in her family did not work as their husbands were expected to provide for them. But to cope with the multiple miscarriages, she started applying for jobs — five years after she finished college. A memoir of this kind must have been harrowing to write. Yet, Wajid is powerful and poignant throughout. She is strikingly honest, even where it might have been difficult to talk publicly about personal matters. After a tragedy of this sort, one would give allowance to a person to indulge in self-pity or navel-gazing. Yet, Wajid is measured, not maudlin, despite the many sorrowful passages. She also does not eulogise Mansoor or turn him into a larger-than-life persona. She wonders, '...what he would think of this entire exercise, of me writing down my experiences of what happened to us, how our family was fractured and torn apart.' Her guess? He would be 'plain embarrassed'. One of the interesting aspects Wajid highlights is the gendered nature of grief. She writes about how 'men are allowed to move on and live their lives, get a fresh start, and women are just expected to live each day as it comes. To just keep surviving.' Thus, women have to 'keep moving on, but not moving on too much either'. Interestingly, many of the published personal recollections of the pandemic in India have been authored by women, though the number of such works is too few to glean common threads. Author Andaleeb Wajid (Courtesy the publisher) While Wajid had not set out to be an author and her writing journey was knotty, her prolificity — nearly 50 books in 15 years — is remarkable. As has been the case for many, writing became a form of therapy. 'Where it had been a form of escapism before, a way to make the lives of my characters far more interesting than the life I led, it became a way for me to cope with loss,' she explains. Her faith also helped her on her grieving journey. She describes her pilgrimage to Makkah with her sons after Mansoor's death: '... it healed something inside me that I thought had been broken and even shattered beyond repair.' Another thing that gave her peace was crocheting. While there might be as many ways of grieving as grievers, Wajid's memoir is an exemplar of the most universal way — memorialising people through words, elegies, and physical markers, such as gravestones or urns. As Wajid writes, 'Every time a reviewer for my books refers to me as Wajid, I feel a little lurch inside, as if they're talking about him [her father]. And every time my family sees his name next to mine on the many books I've written and published, I know it feels like he lives on.' Syed Saad Ahmed is a journalist and communications professional. In 2024, he was selected as a Boston Congress of Public Health Thought Leadership Fellow. He speaks five languages and has taught English in France.
