What inspired you to become a teacher, and how did your early experiences shape your philosophy of education?

I never planned to become a teacher. My dream was to become an engineer. But after facing persistent mental and physical harassment in engineering college, I dropped out, feeling broken and directionless. In that moment of crisis, my father said something that changed everything: “Go to a teacher’s college—you’ll be surrounded by good people who will help you grow again.”

That advice became the turning point of my life. At teacher’s college, I found not just a new environment, but a new version of myself. For the first time, I was in a space where I was not judged, but believed in. My teachers didn’t just teach—they transformed. They rekindled my sense of worth and purpose. I realized that real changemakers aren’t always in high offices or headlines—they are in classrooms. And they had just changed me.

That experience didn’t just make me a teacher—it made me an advocate for systems that don’t fail children the way mine did. It shaped how I think about education policy today: as a tool not just for knowledge transmission, but for human restoration.That realization planted the seed for my philosophy of education: that teaching is not a profession, it is an act of nation-building. I came to believe that a great teacher doesn’t just deliver content—they unlock potential.

As Nelson Mandela once said, “Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.” I am living proof of that. And that’s why I chose to become a teacher—because I wanted to pass on the power of transformation I had experienced myself.

You won the coveted Global Teacher Prize 2020 award and decided to share half the amount of the prize money among fellow finalists.  What inspired you to make that gesture—and how did it eventually shape the birth of the Ranjitsinh Disale Foundation and the idea of borderless classrooms?

When I was announced the winner of the Global Teacher Prize in 2020, I felt a deep sense of gratitude—but also a clear responsibility. For me, leadership isn’t about standing tallest on the podium—it’s about raising others alongside you. That’s why I made the deliberate choice to share 50% of the prize money with my fellow finalists. As I’ve always believed: teachers work for outcomes, not incomes.

I wanted to empower educators who, like me, were transforming lives under the radar. I knew this gesture could unlock opportunities far beyond what one person could do alone—and I’m proud of what we’ve achieved together. That shared fund has supported 42 students from Italy and the United States in pursuing their education. It’s helping children with special needs in Brazil, feeding hundreds of students daily in South Africa, and even contributed to building two new schools in Nigeria.

This impact inspired the creation of the Ranjitsinh Disale Foundation, rooted in the vision that every child, everywhere, deserves access to quality education. Through our global initiatives—including peace education, community-driven school models, and cross-cultural collaborations—we’re working to make that vision a reality. The Foundation is not a charity—it’s a platform for peer-led action. Built on the belief that when educators lead from the frontlines, change becomes sustainable.

The Global Teacher Prize was not the end of a journey—it was the beginning of a movement. A movement where teachers support teachers, where classrooms reach beyond borders, and where every child, no matter their background, gets a fair chance to learn and thrive.

Global Teacher Award 2020 winner Ranjitsinh Disale in his classroom. Credit: Vaibhav Gadekar

At the heart of your initiative, #GiftANewBeginning, lies a powerful belief in second chances. What is the core philosophy driving this movement, and how will you know when it’s truly making a difference?

#GiftANewBeginning is not about second chances. It’s about restarting—with a new approach, a renewed mindset, and a belief that the old ways are not the only ways forward.

This initiative was born from a realization that education systems often fail not just because of lack of resources, but because of outdated assumptions—about learners, about teachers, and about what’s possible. Too often, we try to fix problems using the same tools that caused them. #GiftANewBeginning is about disrupting that cycle. It’s about asking bold questions, designing new models, and embracing solutions rooted in empathy, relevance, and innovation. Whether we are reimagining classrooms for children in crisis zones, designing adaptive learning kits for marginalized communities, or launching teacher fellowships that reward creative risk-taking, the goal remains the same: to redesign the journey, not just resume it.

Our partnership with India Exim Bank, under their CSR initiative, is a perfect example of this approach in action. By working closely with public schools—providing tools, building sustainable infrastructure, and continuously monitoring learning outcomes through evidence—we’re showing what #GiftANewBeginning truly stands for.

I’ll know this movement is working when we stop measuring success by old benchmarks—and instead, start seeing learners who are curious again, teachers who are fearless again, and communities that believe again.

If this vision resonates with you, I invite you to stand with us. This is not just a campaign—it’s a call to action. A call to rewrite how we think about learning, opportunity, and change. Because the future doesn’t come from going back. It comes from starting forward—with a new beginning.

India has made significant strides in digital education, but challenges persist—especially in rural and underserved regions. In your view, does the current digital infrastructure adequately support equitable access to technology-enabled learning? What targeted steps should we take to bridge these gaps?

Digital access isn’t just an infrastructure issue—it’s a civil rights issue in the making. If 48% of schools are offline, nearly half our children are already locked out of India@100. When I introduced QR-coded textbooks, students didn’t have smartphones. That gap between innovation and infrastructure taught me that brilliance without bandwidth is a broken promise.

If you look at the UDISE+ 2023 data, only 52% of government schools in India have internet connectivity. This highlights a significant gap in our digital infrastructure that continues to limit equitable access to technology-enabled learning. While electricity is available in over 90% of schools, internet access remains a bottleneck.

To bridge this gap, we must move beyond aspiration and focus on grounded, achievable goals. Too often, we announce ambitious ed-tech visions without investing in the basics. The first step is to set realistic, region-specific targets for digital infrastructure expansion—starting with the most underserved blocks.

Second, we need a data-driven approach. We must use school-level data to map infrastructure gaps, assess device availability, and track teacher readiness. Digital equity is not just about fiber optics—it’s about understanding who is left out and why.

Lastly, no single actor can do this alone. Edtech firms, telecom providers, and governments must work in partnership, not isolation. The private sector’s innovation, paired with the government’s reach, can create meaningful access for the last-mile learner.

You’ve been a strong advocate of girls’ education. How can we scale such efforts nationally to build an India@100 where no child is left behind? 

To be honest, I don’t believe scaling “my” effort is the answer. Real transformation happens when we enable communities to lead their own change. In my village, I didn’t start with big resources—I started by listening to parents who feared sending their daughters to school. It was slow, local, and personal.

Scaling girls’ education in India@100 means unleashing the changemaker potential in every community—especially among teachers, mothers, frontline workers, and local leaders. If each village had just one trusted advocate for girls’ education, we wouldn't need to replicate outside models. We’d build inside-out solutions.

But empowerment alone isn’t enough—we must also remove structural barriers. Girls drop out not because they lack talent, but because of child marriage, unsafe travel, or the burden of unpaid work. Scaling efforts means addressing these intersections holistically.

Lastly, we need to redefine success. It’s not just about enrollment or completion rates. It’s about dignity, agency, and ensuring every girl has the tools to shape her future.

An India@100 worth building is one where every girl—not just enrolled but empowered—leads the way for her community. That’s not a dream. I’ve seen it happen. I would encourage CII members to join me in this mission—to empower girls not just to participate, but to lead. Because when girls lead, communities rise.

At India@100, our goal should be clear: not one child less—not one girl unseen.