Why India has put its young population to useless work: Trapped in the endless exam cycle
In India, it feels as if the biggest “industry” is not manufacturing, not research, not innovation, not agriculture, not startups, not even the service sector—it is exam preparation. Almost 90% of Indian youngsters are busy preparing for one examination or another: entrance exams, recruitment exams, eligibility tests, competitive tests, state exams, central exams, qualification tests, interviews, personality tests—one after another like a never-ending tunnel. A student in India does not live like a student; they live like a candidate. The country has turned its youth into an army of exam-takers, and the tragedy is that this massive effort, energy, and time does not contribute to national productivity in any meaningful way.
The cycle starts immediately after 10+2, where every teenager is pushed into preparation mode: medical entrance, engineering entrance, CUET, state entrance exams, or some other selection test. Many students don’t even know what they want to become; they only know that they must “crack something.” They join coaching centres, spend years memorising, practising mock papers, and competing with lakhs of others. This is not education; this is survival. And after graduation, the cycle becomes worse. Now they prepare for master’s entrance, NET, GATE, SSC, banking, railway, defence, state PSC, UPSC, and countless other recruitment tests. The preparation does not last for a few months—it lasts for years. Many youngsters invest 4–5 years, some even 7–10 years, between the ages of 20 to 25 to 28, until they become over-aged, financially exhausted, mentally drained, or emotionally broken.
The harsh truth is this: most candidates never get selected, and the years they sacrificed remain permanently wasted. Those 4–5 years could have been used to build skills, gain real work experience, contribute to the economy, or support the country through productive labor. Instead, millions remain locked inside reading rooms, coaching halls, and online test series, chasing a tiny number of seats and vacancies. It is like forcing a whole generation to stand outside one gate, while the gate only opens for a few—yet nobody dares to ask why the system is designed this way.
And if you fail—after giving your youth, after sacrificing your personal life, after living with anxiety—you are not treated like a person who tried; you are treated like a failure. That is another cruelty of the system: it creates conditions where failing is guaranteed for the majority, and then it blames the candidate for failing rather than blaming the system for being incapable of providing opportunities.
This exam culture does not build a nation. Exam preparation does not add GDP. It does not create products. It does not create innovation. It does not create services. It only produces frustration and depression, while coaching centres and private exam businesses multiply like factories. If someone gets selected, the struggle is celebrated as “success.” But for the majority who do not succeed, the same struggle becomes meaningless labour—years of life lost with nothing to show.
Degree has no value but entrance exam is valued
What makes the situation even more disturbing is how education itself has been reduced to a meaningless formality. In India today, a degree has value only if it is followed by an entrance exam qualification. Your three-year graduation is not respected unless you crack something. Your master’s degree means nothing unless you qualify a competitive test. Your PhD is treated as incomplete unless you clear yet another exam and interview. The system repeatedly sends one message: studies don’t matter, learning doesn’t matter, skill doesn’t matter—only selection matters.
If entrance exams are more valuable than actual degrees, then what is the worth of these colleges and universities? Why should a student spend three years in graduation if, in the end, society only asks: “Which exam did you crack?” Degrees are devalued. Real education is insulted. Regular learning is ignored. Coaching culture becomes the real education. This is why in India a person preparing for UPSC for 1–2 years is sometimes socially valued more than someone who has completed a rigorous PhD. As if merely preparing makes a person superior, while real research and knowledge are invisible.
There is also a deeper political angle. The government and the system know that if India’s youth stop preparing for exams and start demanding real jobs, real opportunities, and a real economic roadmap, the state would have no answers. Suppose all 10+2 pass students come out on the roads demanding employment. Suppose graduates refuse coaching and demand real work. Suppose masters and PhD holders ask why they remain unemployed. The government would have nowhere to hide. This is exactly why the system keeps the youth trapped inside exam cycles—busy, silent, and hopelessly distracted. Prepare for exams, write exams, fail exams, repeat exams—and don’t raise your voice. Don’t organise. Don’t question. Don’t protest. This is how a powerless generation is produced: not by force, but by exhaustion.
Brutal competition and exam slavery for general public
And then comes the biggest hypocrisy: this brutal competition and exam slavery is only for the general public, not for the children of politicians and powerful elites. For ordinary students, there are eligibility tests for every step: TET/STET and B.Ed for school teachers, NET and master’s degree for college-level teaching, PhD plus research publications plus interviews for university posts. Each stage requires years of sacrifice. Meanwhile, on the other side, political families occupy top roles by birth, nomination, and influence. They become presidents, secretaries, board members, committee heads, advisors—without qualifying a single exam, without proper educational merit, without competing with anyone. They draw huge salaries, enjoy government facilities, and live on public tax money. The public is forced to struggle for one vacancy, while elites enjoy permanent privilege.
Take an example that exposes the system: a 12th-pass education minister controlling an entire education system. This minister rules teachers and professors who spent a decade qualifying exams, earning degrees, publishing research, completing training. The minister may not understand the meaning of entrance exams, research, or pedagogy—yet has the authority to control policies for schools and universities. This shows the complete moral collapse of the system: highly educated professionals are ruled by those who never competed, never proved academic merit, and never experienced the struggle they impose on millions of students.
Why is India doing this to its youth?
So the question is: why is India doing this to its youth? Why are fresh minds, young energetic people, and a massive population advantage being wasted? The time between 18 and 28 is the most productive period of a human being. That time should be used for skill development, creativity, entrepreneurship, scientific training, industrial work, and innovation. Instead, it is consumed by repetition: one exam after another. India’s youth does not lack talent; India lacks a system that respects talent.
Imagine the economic revolution possible if these wasted 4–5 years of every youngster were used wisely. If the country invested in teaching practical skills, advanced technology, coding, AI, manufacturing, healthcare systems, renewable energy, agriculture technology, and industrial training, India could progress at rocket speed. But that requires vision, planning, and real investment—things that are easier to avoid when people are trapped in exam preparation.
Today, in India, the value system is inverted. It is not your ability that matters, but your selection badge. You are not respected for what you know, but for what you cracked. This is why the education system has become rotten: it produces candidates, not creators; it produces exam machines, not innovators; it produces obedient minds, not independent thinkers.
Sacrifice youth in a never-ending selection race
India claims it has the world’s largest youth population and calls it a demographic dividend. But a dividend is earned only when youth are productive and skilled. If they are stuck in useless preparation for years, that youth population becomes a demographic burden—frustrated, unemployed, angry, hopeless. And the saddest part is that the system then blames the youth for failure, instead of blaming itself for wasting their lives.
This exam obsession must be questioned. The country must ask: why should an entire generation sacrifice its youth in a never-ending selection race? Why are degrees meaningless without exams? Why is learning devalued and coaching glorified? Why are jobs so limited that millions compete for thousands of seats? And most importantly—why is the general public forced into ruthless competition while elites enjoy power without merit?
If India truly wants to become a developed nation, it must stop using its youth as fuel for coaching industries and start using them as builders of the nation. Otherwise, the country will continue to waste its greatest resource—its young minds—in a cycle of preparation that produces nothing except exhaustion.
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