It has kept me up at night. I don't want to burden myself with a loan I'll never finish repaying.
For generations, the journey from India to a Western university represented not merely education but transformation — a passage into global possibility. Today, that passage has grown prohibitively costly, as a rupee that has lost nearly half its value against major currencies collides with tightening visa regimes and a gig economy that absorbs graduates rather than elevating them. What was once an unquestioned aspiration for India's middle class has become a calculation that, for hundreds of thousands of families, no longer adds up — and in that quiet reckoning, the soft power of nations built on the promise of education is quietly eroding.
- The Indian rupee has shed 35–47% of its value against major study-destination currencies since 2019, turning already-stretched family budgets into impossible equations.
- Enrolments in the US and UK have fallen 20% over two years, with further declines expected — a collapse in confidence that is rippling through university towns and institutional balance sheets alike.
- Students already abroad face a cruel double bind: refinancing tuition at worsening exchange rates while discovering that the skilled careers they trained for have been replaced by gig work as a permanent condition.
- Alternative destinations — Germany, Ireland, and Italy — are absorbing redirected demand, offering lower fees, clearer post-study work pathways, and a value proposition that the traditional powers can no longer match.
- Analysts warn that the US and UK risk surrendering not just revenue but soft power — the generational influence that comes from shaping the world's most ambitious young minds.
Pragati Priya spent years engineering her future. At 29, the content creator from Jharkhand had earned admission to a master's programme in Rome — a credential, a network, a foothold in Europe. Then the rupee collapsed, her loan swelled, and the plan that was supposed to liberate her began to feel like a trap. Only her family's promise of financial support kept it alive. "I don't want to burden myself with a student loan that I will never finish repaying," she told the BBC.
Hers is not an isolated anxiety. India sends more students abroad than any other country — over 1.2 million enrolled in 2025 — but the machinery driving that flow is seizing. A currency that has depreciated between 35 and 47 percent against major study destinations since 2019, combined with visa crackdowns and a hostile graduate job market, has forced middle-class families to ask what was once unthinkable: is an overseas degree still worth it?
The answer, increasingly, is no — at least not in the traditional destinations. Enrolments in the US and UK have dropped 20 percent over two years, with further declines forecast. In the UK, 76 percent of universities reported falling Indian student numbers for the January intake. In the US, enrolments slipped nearly 7 percent in a single year. For students already enrolled, the crisis is immediate: future tuition instalments grow heavier with each currency move, while graduates who arrived expecting skilled positions find themselves locked into gig work that was once a temporary supplement and has become a permanent reality.
Demand for foreign education has not disappeared — it has redirected. Germany, Ireland, and Italy are drawing growing interest, offering lower tuition, clearer post-study work rights, and stronger employment prospects. Priya chose Rome partly because her fees are roughly half what she would have paid in the UK, and her degree takes one year instead of two. Her story is becoming a template.
For the US and UK, the stakes extend beyond enrolment figures. Indian students have long been a source of revenue, intellectual energy, and lasting cultural connection — a form of soft power that decades of investment helped build. "No one wins," said Sudhanshu Kaushik of the North America Association of Indian Students. "The students suffer, the universities suffer, college towns suffer and the broader economy suffers." The students who once came to study and stayed to build lives are now looking elsewhere, and the rupee's fall has given them every reason to do so.
Pragati Priya spent years planning her escape. At 29, the content creator from Jharkhand had saved, studied, and finally secured admission to a master's programme in Rome, where she would study global economic affairs starting in September. It was supposed to be the opening she needed—a credential, a network, a foothold in Europe. But somewhere between acceptance and departure, the math broke. The Indian rupee had collapsed. The amount she needed to borrow had swollen. "It has kept me up at night," she told the BBC. "I don't want to burden myself with a student loan that I will never finish repaying."
Her sleeplessness is not solitary. More than 1.2 million Indian students were enrolled in higher education abroad in 2025, making India the world's largest source of international students—a position it had claimed from China years earlier. But the machinery that had sent generation after generation westward is grinding to a halt. A weakening currency, immigration crackdowns, visa tightening, and a job market that has grown hostile to newcomers have forced hundreds of thousands of middle-class families to ask a question they once would have considered unthinkable: Is it still worth it?
The numbers tell the story plainly. Enrolments to the UK and US have fallen 20 percent over the past two years, according to Sushil Sukhwani, founder of Edwise International, which places thousands of Indian students at universities abroad each year. He expects another 10 to 15 percent decline from those levels in the coming period. In the UK alone, 76 percent of universities reported declining Indian student enrolments for the January intake. In the US, enrolments fell nearly 7 percent between February 2025 and February 2026. The rupee, meanwhile, has depreciated between 35 and 47 percent against the currencies of major study destinations since 2019—a staggering erosion of purchasing power that has made an overseas degree not just expensive but, for many families, prohibitively so.
For students already abroad, the crisis is immediate and concrete. Many have paid part of their tuition but now face the grim arithmetic of refinancing. With the rupee down more than 10 percent against the US dollar in the last year alone, future instalments loom larger. Those who have graduated face a different kind of trap. They arrived expecting to land skilled positions in their fields of study. Instead, many have ended up in the gig economy—work that once supplemented their education but now, for many, has become their full-time reality. "They arrive hoping to secure skilled jobs in the fields they trained for and end up working in the gig economy," said Sudhanshu Kaushik, founder of the North America Association of Indian Students in Washington. "Earlier, that work helped fund their education. Now many are graduating and doing it full-time."
Priya herself was nearly pushed into abandonment. Only her parents' and sister's promise of support kept her plan alive. For families without that cushion—the vast majority—the decision has been simpler and more brutal. The upper-middle-class families who once saw overseas education as the natural next step are now reassessing. The weaker rupee has made the entire proposition more expensive than ever, while the job market has become less forgiving.
Yet the demand for foreign education has not vanished; it has merely redirected. Germany, Ireland, Italy, and other European destinations are drawing increasing interest from Indian students, drawn by lower tuition costs, more generous post-study work pathways, stronger employment prospects, and a fundamentally better value proposition. Priya chose Italy partly for this reason. Her tuition fees are roughly half what she would have paid in the UK. The US was, she said, "out of the question"—not just because of cost but because her degree would take two years there instead of one in Rome. Sukhwani's company has already begun shifting its focus toward these emerging alternatives in response to student demand.
For the traditional powers—the US and UK—the implications are troubling. Both have spent decades building globally competitive higher education sectors. Both have relied on Indian students as a crucial source of enrolment, revenue, and intellectual vitality. India remains one of the largest sources of international students for both countries, even as enrolments from China have slowed. But the window is closing. The Global Student Flows Report 2026 forecasts that Indian student enrolments in the "big four" destinations—the US, UK, Canada, and Australia—will decline by an average of 0.5 percent annually through 2030. That may sound modest until you consider the scale: it represents a steady hemorrhaging of one of the most reliable pipelines these institutions have ever had.
Kaushik sees something larger at stake. "The depreciating currency, the job market, the rise of AI, the visa issues and the current administration's policies have all combined to create a perfect storm," he said. "No one wins. The students suffer, the universities suffer, college towns suffer and the broader economy suffers." He argues that the US, in particular, risks squandering one of its most effective instruments of soft power. "We are retreating from the gains we made in promoting higher education as one of our most influential and profitable forms of soft power," he said. The students who once came to study and stayed to build lives, who became ambassadors for American values and American institutions, are now looking elsewhere. And the rupee's fall has given them every reason to do so.
Notable Quotes
The market is clearly showing signs of slowing down. We've already seen enrolments to the UK and US fall by 20% over the last two years, and I expect another 10-15% decline from those levels going forward.— Sushil Sukhwani, founder of Edwise International
The depreciating currency, the job market, the rise of AI, the visa issues and the current administration's policies have all combined to create a perfect storm. No one wins.— Sudhanshu Kaushik, founder of the North America Association of Indian Students
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does the rupee's collapse matter so much more than, say, visa rules alone?
Because it hits the family budget directly. A student whose parents are saving in rupees suddenly needs 35 to 47 percent more of those rupees to pay the same tuition. Visa rules are a barrier—the rupee is a tax on the entire dream.
But India's economy is growing. Why is the rupee falling so sharply?
That's a separate question from what's happening to students. The currency moves are driven by larger macroeconomic forces—capital flows, interest rates, global conditions. What matters here is that families feel it immediately in their ability to afford education.
So students are just moving to cheaper countries. That seems rational.
It is rational, but it's also a loss. Italy and Germany are good schools, but they're not Harvard or Oxford. The students who would have gone to Cambridge are now going to Rome. That's a real shift in where talent flows.
What about the students already abroad who are struggling?
They're trapped. They've already paid part of their fees in rupees at a better exchange rate. Now they need more money to finish, but the rupee keeps falling. And if they're working gig jobs to cover costs, they're not building the careers they came for.
Is this temporary, or are we watching a permanent reordering?
The experts quoted here think it's structural. The visa environment isn't getting friendlier. The job market for international graduates isn't improving. And the rupee may stabilize, but it's unlikely to return to 2019 levels. So yes, this looks like a permanent shift in where Indian students go.
What do universities lose if this continues?
Revenue, certainly. But also diversity, intellectual energy, and the pipeline of talent that has fed their graduate programs and research labs for decades. And for the US especially, Kaushik argues they lose soft power—the influence that comes from educating the world's future leaders.