Girish Mehta had barely a month to figure out his entire life after turning 18 in Jaipur. Until that birthday, the childcare institution where he'd lived since age 12 was his home, his safety, his world. Then it wasn't. The moment he aged out, he became, in the stark language of India's welfare system, "nobody's responsibility."
Every year in India, approximately 30,000 teenagers face this same cliff edge when they turn 18 and exit the country's childcare institutions. Though national law entitles them to "aftercare" support until age 21 or 23, most receive little help navigating the sudden leap to adulthood. Without guidance, many stumble into unsafe situations — unstable housing, exploitative relationships, or worse. Mehta's story mirrors that of Anisha Sharma, who grew up in a Delhi home for children living with HIV and AIDS. "I wasn't mature enough to cope," she recalls of aging out mid-education, mid-dream, and alone.
But Mehta and Sharma refused to let that cycle continue. In 2017, they founded Careleavers Inner Circle (CLiC), a social startup built on a radical premise: care leavers themselves are the experts on what care leavers need. Supported by UNICEF, the organization began by mapping the landscape — building a database of care leavers in Rajasthan, then launching a tech platform where young people aging out of care could register and access real support. Today, CLiC operates across four Indian states with over 3,200 registered members, a team of 14 staff members (most under 30 and themselves former care leavers), and dozens of volunteers.
When new members join, they receive a care kit containing a smartphone, hygiene essentials, and clothes — tangible proof that someone sees them and intends to stay. More importantly, they gain access to job listings, professional skill-building courses, free counseling, and a community of peers walking the same difficult path. CLiC has conducted transition preparedness workshops with over 1,450 adolescents still in care, helping them develop concrete plans before their 18th birthday arrives.
The results speak for themselves. A 2019 study of 435 care leavers across five Indian states revealed that 44 percent had no meaningful say in their own care planning — a powerlessness CLiC works to reverse. Through partnerships with employers like Haldiram's, a major Indian fast food chain, and with Pratham Education Foundation, CLiC has helped 410 care leavers gain professional skills. Of those, 320 have found employment — a pathway from invisibility to economic dignity.
Yet the work remains urgent and personal. Mausumi Das, who heads CLiC's operations in West Bengal, recalls a boy in Kolkata who was shocked to learn he'd have nowhere to live in two months. They walked him through his options, his fears, his possibilities. And they carry with them the memory of a teenage girl they tried to help — one caught in an abusive marriage who disappeared before CLiC could reach her, later found dead in a road accident. "Her life could have taken a different course if she'd been guided better," Mehta says.
That injustice drives CLiC forward. Mehta and Sharma are clear-eyed about what's needed: not charity, but genuine partnership. Not marriage or family reunion as default endpoints, but genuine self-reliance. Not pity, but belief in young people's capacity to chart their own futures — if only someone believes in them first.