In government schools across Karnataka, the midday meal is not just another welfare scheme. For thousands of children, it is the most dependable meal of the day, often richer in protein than what awaits them at home.
An egg, sometimes accompanied by a banana, has become central to this promise of nutrition. But behind the scenes, this promise is being quietly upheld not by the system alone, but by teachers who are paying out of their own pockets to keep it alive.
From coastal Karnataka to the northern districts, teachers say rising food prices and stagnant allocations have slowly turned the midday meal into a personal responsibility. What began as occasional help has, over months, become routine spending from salaries that were never meant to subsidise
state-run nutrition programmes.
A Gap Between Policy and the Market
On paper, the midday meal scheme appears well-structured. Fixed amounts are allocated for eggs and fruit, with additional components meant to cover preparation and logistics. On the ground, however, teachers say these figures no longer reflect reality.
In districts like Udupi and Dakshina Kannada, egg prices regularly exceed the allocated amount. Banana prices fluctuate even more sharply. Teachers say they are forced to absorb the difference because meals cannot simply be scaled down or skipped.
A teacher from a government primary school in Udupi explains that when prices rise, the calculation is simple but painful. Either children eat, or paperwork stays clean. “You can’t explain budgets to hungry children,” she says. “So you make the choice quietly.”
Beyond Eggs, the Banana Question
What makes the situation harder, teachers say, is that the meal does not end with eggs. Many children, especially younger ones, ask for fruit after eating.
In Puttur, a teacher says children often come back holding their plates, asking softly if there is a banana that day. The request is never demanding. Sometimes, she says, it is barely a question. Saying ‘no’ feels impossible.
This is echoed in schools across Chikkaballapur and Hassan, where teachers say fruit has become an emotional as well as nutritional expectation. For some children, the banana is not eaten immediately. It is saved, taken home, or shared with a sibling. Teachers notice these small acts and say they change how decisions are made in staff rooms.
Budgeting Like Shopkeepers
In Hassan district, a head teacher describes how managing banana has turned into daily budgeting. Banana prices are checked every morning. If rates are low, two bananas are bought per child. If prices rise, it is cut down to one.
He says this fluctuation has been normalised. “Some days you feel relieved because you can give more. Some days you feel guilty for giving less. Either way, you are constantly negotiating prices instead of focusing on teaching.”
In Kalaburagi and Koppala, teachers say they have learned to identify vendors who offer marginally lower rates, sometimes buying in advance using personal money to avoid sudden hikes. Reimbursements, when they come, arrive much later, if at all.
The Cost That Adds Up
Individually, these expenses may not look dramatic. But over months, they add up to significant sums.
Teachers from Dakshina Kannada and Raichuru say they spend between Rs 1,000 and Rs 5,000 a month on eggs and fruit, depending on school strength. Over a year, this runs into amounts that impact household budgets, savings, and even children’s education expenses at home.
Several teachers admit they have stopped calculating the total. The mental weight of the number, they say, is heavier than the financial one.
Why Teachers Keep Paying
Despite growing frustration, teachers say they continue paying because stopping feels like betrayal. But, that may not be the case everywhere. We have mouths to feed back at home as well, so its definitely a burden no matter what the reasons are, says a teacher from a village government school in Gadag district.
In Yadgir, a teacher says the effect of good meals is visible in classrooms. Children are more attentive. Attendance improves. Parents trust the school more. “If we reduce the meal even slightly, it shows immediately,” she says.
In Mandya, another teacher points out that the midday meal is often the reason parents send children to school consistently. Any compromise risks undoing years of progress in enrolment and retention. For many teachers, the decision is not about rules, but about responsibility. They see the children every day. The system is distant.
Quiet Anger, Not Public Protest
What troubles teachers most is not the act of spending, but the silence around it. Many feel the issue is known but unaddressed.
In Belagavi, a teacher says there is no clarity on when allocations will be revised to match market prices. Bills are submitted, but responses are slow. “This is not charity,” she says. “This is a government promise.”
Teachers say policy announcements often expand nutritional components without adjusting budgets, leaving schools to bridge the gap using goodwill.
Parents Are Beginning to Notice
Parents, too, are slowly becoming aware. In Shivamogga, a parent says she was uncomfortable when she learned that teachers were buying eggs themselves. “I felt grateful, but also angry,” she says. “This is not their responsibility.”
Several parents said they would support higher government spending if it meant teachers were not forced to subsidise meals meant for children.
A System Running on Conscience
Education officials have acknowledged rising costs and say revisions are under consideration. But teachers warn that goodwill is not infinite.
Salaries do not rise with egg prices. Fruit markets do not wait for files to move. Hunger does not understand administrative delays.
For now, eggs continue to be boiled across Karnataka. Bananas continue to be bought. Children continue to eat.
Behind every plate, however, is a teacher from somewhere in the state who quietly paid for it, hoping the system catches up before personal sacrifice becomes the only thing holding the midday meal together.
(Names of all the teachers are skipped on request)
