When the sun sets over Thirukalappur, a quiet village in Tamil Nadu’s Villupuram district, dozens of children gather under a large white tent. Inside, it’s bright—not from electricity, but from small solar lamps arranged neatly around rows of books. The hum of conversation replaces the usual silence of a power cut. For these children, this isn’t just a tent; it’s their evening classroom.
In this village, where many homes still lack reliable electricity, a group of local teachers and youth volunteers have found a simple yet powerful solution: “Reading Tents.” Every evening from 6:30 to 9 p.m., children from Classes 1 to 10 come together to read, write, and share stories. The project, started earlier this year, is already transforming how young minds in the community learn.
The initiative began when Anand Raj, a government school teacher, noticed that his students often failed to complete homework due to long power cuts. “I realized it wasn’t about laziness,” he said. “They couldn’t study because their homes were dark. I wanted to give them light—and a reason to read.”
With the help of villagers and a small grant from a local NGO, Anand and his team built the first reading tent beside the village temple. Using recycled cloth, bamboo poles, and solar lanterns, they created a space that now attracts more than 80 children every night. The concept is simple: community-powered learning that doesn’t depend on electricity or expensive infrastructure.
The tents are not just about studying textbooks. Volunteers read aloud Tamil folk tales, short stories, and science facts. Younger children draw pictures on mats while older students tutor them in math and English. Some nights, the team invites elders to share stories of the village’s history and traditions. It’s a mix of education and cultural exchange—learning by light, laughter, and local wisdom.
Parents say the change in their children is remarkable. “My daughter waits for evening now,” said Meenakshi, a farmworker and mother of two. “Before, she used to fear the dark. Now, she packs her notebook and runs to the tent. She has friends, books, and teachers who listen.”
The project soon caught the attention of the district administration. Officers from the Education Department visited the site and praised the model as “a replicable idea for rural literacy.” Plans are now underway to expand the initiative to neighboring villages where similar power shortages affect evening studies.
Each reading tent runs on solar power banks that can store enough energy for three hours of light. The lamps were donated by a Chennai-based startup that specializes in renewable solutions for rural schools. “When we saw how simple and effective the idea was, we decided to contribute,” said Divya Nair, one of the company’s founders. “It’s not charity; it’s empowerment.”
Children have taken ownership too. They clean the tent daily, organize books, and even run a “book-sharing club.” Once a week, students from nearby schools visit to exchange storybooks. “We call it our ‘Light Library,’” says Karthik, a 12-year-old who dreams of becoming an engineer. “We don’t have computers or TVs, but we have stories that take us anywhere.”
Teachers from nearby towns now visit the tent to hold workshops in storytelling, poetry, and basic science experiments. One of them, Ms. Janani, says the experience has reshaped her view of rural education. “These children are hungry for knowledge,” she said. “They may not have electricity, but they have energy—the kind that comes from curiosity.”
Experts in education policy believe initiatives like this hold lessons for the rest of the country. “Access to light is access to learning,” says Dr. S. Gopinath, an education researcher at Madras University. “Rural India needs not just classrooms, but creative spaces that invite children to learn together. Reading tents combine sustainability with social learning.”
The impact goes beyond academics. Older students mentor younger ones, building leadership and teamwork. Girls, who once stayed home after dusk, now participate equally. Parents attend weekend meetings to discuss progress and even read alongside their children. The community, once divided by caste and income, now shares one roof of learning.
The initiative also reflects a shift in how small villages view education—as a shared responsibility rather than a government service. When a lamp breaks or a book tears, someone always steps up to fix it. “We don’t wait for funding,” said Anand Raj. “We believe the village can solve its own problems when everyone adds one spark.”
The project has inspired nearby towns to start their own versions. In Cuddalore and Tiruvannamalai, local youth groups are building “learning sheds” using the Thirukalappur model. Social media posts about the reading tents have gone viral, with educators from across India offering to send books or visit the site.
For many children, the tents are more than a space to study—they are a symbol of hope. Ten-year-old Pavithra, who dreams of becoming a teacher, says she wants to open her own reading tent one day. “Books are like stars,” she said softly. “When the light goes out, they keep shining.”
The story of Thirukalappur shows that technology doesn’t always mean screens and gadgets. Sometimes, progress begins with bamboo sticks, old cloth, and the belief that every child deserves to read in the light.
As night falls over the village, one can see dozens of glowing tents in the distance, each filled with quiet voices reading aloud. In a country where power cuts are common, this small village has found its own source of power—the light of learning.
