John J. Kennedy | From Dreams To Drudgery: The PhD Scholar’s Plight In India

Deepa (name changed) topped her postgraduate physics class a few years ago and earned a coveted spot in a Central university’s PhD programme. She imagined long hours in the lab, cutting-edge experiments, and the thrill of discovery. Instead, she found broken equipment, stipends delayed for months, and a supervisor too burdened with administrative duties to meet her more than once a month. Three years on, she had two publications in obscure journals, not for breaking new ground, but because they were mandatory for thesis submission. The dream of research had shrunk into a desperate race to finish and escape.

Deepa’s story is not at all unusual. The Indian PhD programme is a paradox. India speaks of becoming a global research leader, yet most universities barely register in international rankings. The failure isn’t about a shortage of talent or ambition. It’s about a system that, from the earliest stages of education, stifles the curiosity and originality that actual research demands.

From school onwards, students are trained to memorise, not question. Success is measured by marks, not by the ability to frame problems or pursue ideas. Many enter PhD programmes without ever doing hands-on, inquiry-driven research. In the United States or Germany, even undergraduates design experiments, take on independent projects, and debate ideas. In India, that foundation is largely absent, and the gap shows when doctoral scholars are expected to produce original work.

The All-India Survey on Higher Education (AISHE) 2021-22 states that nearly 213,000 scholars are enrolled in PhD programmes across Indian universities. This may sound impressive, but it accounts for just 0.5 per cent of total higher education enrolment, a reminder of limited research access. Each year, around 39,000 to 41,000 students are awarded PhD degrees. Yet these numbers mask deeper problems.

The UGC’s 2022 regulations, effective from 2024-25, standardise PhD admissions via the NET, introduce weighted interviews, mandate research methods and ethics coursework, and require teaching experience -- steps meant to boost quality, integrity, and global parity. On paper, it’s promising; in practice, progress is uneven. While PhD enrolments rose by 14 per cent in 2025, the number of scholars who secure the Junior Research Fellowship remains worryingly low. Most still face the same post-admission struggle: financial uncertainty, outdated infrastructure, and a lack of meaningful mentorship.

Funding remains one of the system’s most crippling weaknesses. Stipends are meagre and frequently delayed. Research grants are few, and even accessing them is an administrative labyrinth. Outside the elite institutes, labs are antiquated, libraries poorly stocked, and faculty are stretched thin across teaching and bureaucracy. In this ecosystem, most scholars opt for “safe” topics that require minimal experimentation or originality. Research becomes a checkbox for degree completion, not an intellectual voyage.

This functional decay shows up in career outcomes, too. While no comprehensive data is available for immediate employment after a PhD, sectoral insights paint a bleak picture. Many PhD graduates struggle to find relevant jobs right after completion. For instance, among the approximately 6,000 science PhDs awarded yearly, around 2,000 fail to secure appropriate positions. Only a minority manage to land academic or research posts immediately, and many take up jobs that don’t require a PhD at all, an especially bitter pill for those who’ve spent years slogging in poorly resourced conditions.

Besides, the academic job market is shrinking, and Indian industry remains hesitant to absorb PhDs, primarily because doctoral research often has little synergy with market needs. In contrast, about 80 per cent of PhDs in the US and Europe are absorbed outside academia, whereas in India, less than 20 per cent transition successfully into industry roles. The result? A growing population of overqualified, underemployed scholars, many of whom question whether their sacrifices were worth it.

Another invisible wound is the mental health crisis festering within this cohort. An internal study by IIT Kanpur revealed that four out of five PhD students experience mental health challenges, driven by inadequate supervision, financial strain, and career uncertainty. In the absence of peer networks and structured support systems, the loneliness of research is often overwhelming. Many trudge through the years in silence, internalising a system failing to support their basic academic and emotional needs.

So, is a PhD in India worth it? It can be rewarding for those fortunate enough to secure funding, find good mentorship, and align their work with institutional priorities. However, for the vast majority, it is a journey of endurance, not enlightenment -- one that ends with a title, but often not a pathway.

The road ahead does not lie in simply importing Western models or tightening regulatory screws.

What is needed is a cultural transformation -- a shift from credentialism to curiosity, from metrics to meaning. This requires long-term investment in research infrastructure, consistent faculty development, and deliberate policy measures to strengthen industry-academia collaboration.

Evaluation metrics must shift from quantity to quality, originality, and societal relevance. Ethics must not be a one-time workshop, but a lived value embedded across the doctoral journey. Most importantly, mental health support must be systemic, not left to the initiative of a few sympathetic professors or overburdened deans.

We must ask ourselves: What should a PhD represent? At its best, it is a crucible for new knowledge, a space where bold questions thrive, and intellectual integrity is sacrosanct. For India to reclaim that vision, we must go beyond symbolic reforms and foster a culture where research is not just performed, but lived. With the proper support and freedom, a PhD can still be a true mark of scholarship, and a spark for Indian research to shine globally.

The writer is retired professor and former dean of the School of Arts and Humanities at Christ University in Bengaluru