🎬 #MarketMapMondays: HOLLYWOOD / STORYTELLING x AI 🤖 We’re diving into the electrifying intersection of Hollywood, storytelling, and AI — a $100B–$150B market in the middle of massive disruption. 🧵

https://t.co/ynzeKq6nJC

Source: https://t.co/60nlRyPoEf #education #india #students

Why This Matters 1) India has one of the lowest passing thresholds, yet our students compete globally with peers trained under much stricter academic standards. 2) Despite growing literacy and enrollment, the bar for "just enough" continues to be shockingly low.

But under pressure from upper-caste Tamil Brahmins who wanted more students to qualify, a Third Class category was introduced — and the pass percentage was dropped to 33%. Yes, a 125-year-old colonial decision still shapes how we measure success in Indian schools.

After Macaulay’s education system was imposed in 1854, British officials kept lowering the pass mark to churn out just enough clerks and low-level administrators for the colonial system. Initially, passing meant getting 45%.

For Example : 🇦🇺 Australia: 50% | 🇺🇸 USA: 60% | 🇨🇳 China: 60% | 🇬🇧 UK: 40% | 🇩🇪 Germany: 50% 🔍 I recently came across a fascinating historical reason behind this, According to a report from the Indian Universities Commission (1902):

🧠 Why Do Indian Schools Still Pass Students at Just 35%? 📉 While most countries set 50–60% as the minimum passing mark, India still considers 33–35% as "Pass." Why?

I understand this better than those who dismiss these policies from air-conditioned rooms. Because I’ve lived it. #freebies #privelege #middleclass #life

They are what make democracy meaningful—not just for the privileged but for the millions who stand in ration lines, waiting not for favors but for fairness.

For those who reduce these policies to mere handouts, let me be clear: Freebies are not charity; they are a foundation. They allowed families like mine to endure, to dream, to build.

an unlikely gateway to a world beyond our means. I saw how these so-called “freebies” weren’t indulgences—they were survival. They were the difference between hunger and a meal, between isolation and knowledge.

But in the same city, I also saw something else. We stood in long queues at ration shops, our families counting on subsidized rice to make it through the month. We watched government-provided TV,

Life here had no illusions—no polished narratives, no safety nets. I saw men lost to alcohol, families struggling on the margins, and children, like me, playing Gooli on streets of dust, beneath a scorching sun.

A Different Truth About Freebies Growing up near the slums of Coovam, a river once revered for its sanctity, I witnessed it decay into a lifeless drain, carrying the weight of a city’s neglect.

Update:

According to M. V. Subbiah, this was the first "compliment" he received. It marked the beginning of a rigorous and humbling training process that every family member had to undergo before being inducted into the larger family business.

When he returned, the Mudali was unimpressed. He scolded Subbiah, saying, "You are a useless boy! Does it take an hour and fifteen minutes to fetch something so simple? You should be ashamed to call yourself Murugappa's grandson!"

He wandered for nearly 45 minutes, struggling to communicate, until he finally spotted a Tamil man chewing betel leaves. Approaching him in Tamil, he asked for directions. The man guided him, and at last, he found the shop and bought the betel leaves.

Being only 12 years old and unfamiliar with the local language, his first assigned task turned out to be quite a challenge. The Mudali instructed him to go out and buy betel leaves (pan) from a shop. However, young Suba had no idea where to find one.