Meghalaya’s hidden classroom: School that started in a storeroom

Nongshkhen, a small village in Meghalaya’s East Khasi Hills, feels like a picture you might find tucked inside an old book. It’s about 70 kilometres from Shillong and just half an hour from the Bangladesh border. The road to get there is its own adventure. The bends that open up to misty hills, forests thick with green, and waterfalls that surprise you around a curve. Giant rubber trees stand watch over the village, and the houses are connected by stone stairs that seem to hold the whole place together. In the mornings, the mist drifts in and mixes with the smell of damp earth. It feels like a place straight out of a Ghibli Studio film, quiet, hidden, a little magical.

But life here isn’t as picture-perfect as it looks when the mist rolls in. Most families in Nongshkhen live off whatever they can grow, broom grass, betel nut, pepper, pineapples, and oranges. Some families weave baskets and mats to sell in nearby markets, and a few trade across the border to Bangladesh. It’s a place where people greet you with a soft “Khublei” and a fresh betel nut, where respect lives in small gestures, yet the distance from real opportunities is felt in the winding roads, the daily rains, and the silence that settles in when the city feels far away.

Amidst all the hardship, Genavafa Behphat, a lady from Nongshken, didn’t let education take a backseat. She saw how much the children here needed more than just a classroom in name; they needed a place where they could learn to speak and write with confidence, where they wouldn’t get left behind just because they came from a village tucked so far away from the noise of the city.

“When I came back to Nongshkhen after years of studying and working outside, almost ten, fifteen years later, I saw that nothing had changed. Children could read English, but they couldn’t speak it,” Genavafa said. 

Genavafa was born and raised in Nongshken, and after finishing school, she went to St. Mary’s College in Shillong. Not being able to speak English made those years difficult. People say English is just a language, but for her, not knowing how to speak meant giving up on political science and settling for general subjects instead.

She always believed that if something needed to change, someone had to take the first step. So in 2017, after gaining experience in the NGO sector,  Genavafa Behphat set up the Foundation for Empowerment and Inclusive Development, starting with small skill training for her community. But she knew real change meant better education, something she hadn’t had herself. In 2019, with her family’s support, she started Dew Drops Academy in her home with just 15 students. A storeroom became a classroom, her sister and cousin stepped in to teach, and slowly the school began to grow.

But then COVID hit, and things became uncertain. In a place like Nongshkhen, where mobile networks often fail, online lessons weren’t possible; it was a very challenging time. That’s when Sunbird Trust stepped in. “Through a friend of mine, I had a call with Sir Chris,” Genavafa said, addressing Col. Christopher Rego (Retd.), the founder of Sunbird Trust. With their support, students’ fees were covered, and a new school building was constructed on land donated by her parents. Local farmers even gave land for an access road, trusting Genavafa to pay them back when she could.

Today, Dew Drops Academy stands in the middle of a forest and is a place of learning for 241 children from 11 nearby villages, with classes from Nursery up to grade 7 and a team of 12 local teachers.

The school has grown from bamboo structures to a proper building with staff quarters, a tarred road and a proper water supply for easier access. Sunbird Trust’s School Transformation Programme (STP) has brought more than just buildings. They provide sponsorships to keep education affordable, and they stay involved with the daily life of the school. A Sunbird Trust lead teacher, Mridhula Sasidharan, a Teach for India Fellows from Chennai, lives and works alongside Genavafa and the teachers, guiding them through regular training and capacity-building so that learning moves beyond rote memorisation. Mridhula’s presence helps bring new teaching ideas and activities, making classes more engaging for children who are often first-generation learners.

Today, students come from 11 surrounding villages, and going to school in the hilly terrain can still be challenging. In the early days, Genavafa bought an old van with borrowed money, and her brother drove the children to class. Later, Caring Friends, a Mumbai-based NGO, donated money for a school bus and recently, with Sunbird Trust’s help, the school added a new bus too. Even kids from the farthest villages now have a way to reach school safely and on time.

The students of Dew Drops Academy are always full of life. Even on rainy days, they walk from nearby villages, holding their shoes in one hand and an umbrella in the other. They take what they learn seriously. One of the teachers shared how students now practise good personal hygiene at home because of what they learnt in class. These children are full of stories, too. They often share little glimpses of village life, mimicking bird calls, making bamboo toys shaped like guns, or trekking down to the river for a swim. Many of them even help their parents sell homemade snacks like papad and nimki before coming to school. To channel this energy positively, Dew Drops Academy keeps a strong focus on play and other engaging activities as part of its daily routine.

What keeps Dew Drops Academy strong is its family-like environment. When asked what they love most about the school, every teacher said the same thing:  it feels like a family. Teachers look out for the children even after school hours, and the hiring is done thoughtfully so that there’s at least one teacher from each village. This way, students know they always have someone nearby to turn to whenever they need help or guidance.

But Dew Drops Academy is about more than lessons in a classroom. Inspired by Sunbird Trust’s vision of peace through education, the school looks at each child’s life as a whole, not just marks on a paper. Home visits and close talks with parents help teachers understand struggles like poverty, alcoholism, or broken families that quietly shape a child’s world. When they see a child suffering, they guide parents to raise them with kindness, not fear and show that encouragement works better than punishment.

However, this connection with the community goes beyond supporting the child. It also nurtures openness, empathy, and a respectful understanding of different ways of life, helping build a sense of shared belonging in a diverse world.

This idea of peace isn’t just about stopping fights far away. It’s the everyday kind that starts inside a child and spreads into families and the community. “Peace is helping a child grow up without fear or falling into old traps,” says Genavafa. “Without education here, children so easily slip into tobacco, alcohol, or early marriage, repeating cycles that break families apart.” Dew Drops Academy is like a quiet movement for hope, helping kids dream bigger.

There are stories of children who once sat silent in class, too afraid to speak, who now smile, play, and proudly raise their hands. Dew Drops Academy tries to build this sense of peace within each child so they grow up confident enough to stand on their own feet, and strong enough to lift their families too. For many, this school has opened the doors to learning that might have otherwise stayed closed. It has provided access to education for underprivileged children who may never have had the chance to attend school at all. At the end of the day, Dew Drops Academy is not just about books and exams. It’s about children who walk home a little braver, imbibed with self-confidence and joie de vivre; parents who listen and understand more; and families who find kinder ways to care for each other. It’s about helping children stay close to their roots while giving them new dreams to follow.