A narrow, waterlogged bylane. Two large tin sheds. Endless rows of wooden benches, a blackboard at one end. Dust-laden fans suspended from the tin ceiling, ancient sound speakers hanging from bare walls. It’s hard to believe this derelict structure in Patna’s coaching-college lane has racked up a 100% success rate in the last two years in sending students to the Indian Institute of Technology (IIT), India’s premier engineering college.

In each of the last two years, all the Super 30 have made it to IIT. In the last seven years, the count reads 182 of 210—a super success rate of 86%.

This is the Ramanujan School of Mathematics, a coaching institute for competitive exams, run by 36-year-old Anand Kumar. Every year, Kumar handpicks 30 students and grooms them for a shot at becoming the country’s best engineers. As many as 6,000 apply, drawn by his super success rate and his imaginative teaching methods. The Super 30, as he calls them, are selected because they demonstrate a minimum level of intelligence and, more importantly, because they are the poorest of the poor—kids of rickshaw pullers, landless farmers, roadside vendors...

For one year, Kumar puts them in a hostel adjoining the school. He sponsors their food, boarding and other educational requirements. They are cut off from pursuits of pleasure. They are expected to do just one thing: get into IIT. In each of the last two years, all the Super 30 have made it. In the last seven, the count reads 182 of 210—a success rate of 86%. Buoyed by the success, Kumar tripled the seats this year to 90.

Even as Super 30 (or Super 90 now) hog the limelight, there are another 400-odd students who come to Ramanujan for four hours every day to sharpen their maths and physics for competitive exams. They pay Rs 6,000 per subject for the year—about 10% of the market rate. Kumar doesn’t care. It’s not about maximising his income. It’s about giving opportunities to the talented and the needy, something he was denied in his time.

Their Stories, His Story

“Sparks of brilliance should not lose their shine for want of money,” says Kumar. Fifteen years back, the absence of money, compounded by a personal tragedy, prevented this maths graduate from going to Cambridge for higher studies.

Even when he was graduating from Patna Science College, in 1994, Kumar was hailed as a maths prodigy after he discovered the properties and characteristics of numbers. Devi Prasad Verma, the then Head of Department of Mathematics in the college, took him under his wing. Kumar’s articles and papers were published in leading maths journals in the UK.

Verma encouraged him to apply for higher studies outside India. Kumar got a call from Cambridge, and was due to join on October 1, 1994. “This was my big chance,” he says. But that August, his father died. Not only was his family unable to arrange the Rs 3 lakh needed to send him to Cambridge, it now needed Kumar to support them. So, instead of going deeper into maths at Cambridge, Kumar started giving maths tuitions to school kids in Patna.

Kumar did not charge a fixed fee, as many kids came from poor families. If they paid him, fine. If they didn’t, it was still fine with Kumar. “Sir, I will pay you when my father harvests his potato crop,” a student told him. Kumar saw himself in the kid.

He started thinking about students whose talent went waste because their parents couldn’t afford their education. Thus was born the Ramanujan School of Mathematics. He started giving maths coaching to 30-40 students for competitive exams. For the next eight years, the number of students kept increasing. Kumar’s income grew, from Rs 10,000 a month to Rs 1 lakh.

In 2002, some of his students suggested focused coaching for a select few for the IIT entrance exam. This was the first Super 30 batch, of which, 18 made it to IIT in 2003. The success rate kept increasing: 22 in 2004, 26 in 2005, and 28 apiece in 2006 and 2007. The last two years, perfect.

Ricky And Bholu

Kumar’s gritty tale has won him many admirers. Requests from grants and donations keep coming in, but Kumar turns them all down, as he fears losing his independence. He’s also made some enemies. The 1 km stretch on Bhootnath Road in Patna is populated with coaching institutes of all kinds. But when it comes to engineering entrances, every student wants to be in the only coaching college on the adjoining lane—Ramanujan School. Kumar has got death and extortion threats, and has been the intended victim of crude bombs. The two armed guards that tag along with him are the baggage of such envy and hostility.

If the students clamour to come to Ramanujan, it’s as much for its incredible success rate as for its non-textbook teaching approach. The three teachers—besides Kumar himself, former students Amit Kumar and Praveen Kumar—have a conversational style of teaching. They use teaching aids like characters and stories to explain complex concepts. The most recurrent—and popular—tool is the world through the eyes of two iterant friends, Ricky and Bholu.

Ricky follows the textbook to the T and learns by rote, but Bholu believes in learning by understanding and questioning. So, Kumar first explains a concept in Ricky’s straitjacket way. Next, he explains the same thing by getting into Bholu’s questioning and analytical mind, drawing knowing smiles and titters from students. The names are giveaways to simplistic mindsets—Ricky the outsider, Bholu the local—but it works with students, who see themselves as Bholu and seek to pick up his learning habits.

Kumar and team also use presentations, films and 3D images to encourage the young minds into thinking for themselves. “Books tell you one way, but there are many ways to do the same thing,” says Amit. “If students grasp this, they can solve any problem.” This teaching style means the teachers are peppered with questions, as students try their own ways. “We need to explain why they are right or wrong. This keeps us on our toes too,” says Amit.

Kumar is now thinking beyond Ramanujan School and Super 90. He wants to create a gurukul, where students live and study without worrying about paying or earning money. “A peaceful place where I can polish young minds to compete in the Maths Olympiad or win a Nobel,” he says.

He gets numerous offers from leading Indian corporates and international funding agencies to set up this school, but Kumar wants to do it his way. He wants to create a fund or a trust that can support this self-sufficient model. Till then, he will continue to write for international journals, give talks and send an entire class of kids to IIT.