India’s Nutrition Divide: Junk Food Ban in Schools Stirs Debate

When the Food Safety and Standards Authority of India (FSSAI) finally rolled out the "Safe Food and Healthy Diets for School Children" regulations in July 2021, it felt a bit like watching a train that had been delayed for years finally pull out of the station. The rule—no sale or advertisement of high‑fat, sugar and salt (HFSS) items on school premises or within 50 metres of the gate—was the culmination of a public‑interest litigation filed back in 2010 by the Uday Foundation.

That PIL asked the Delhi High Court to close the snack‑laden loopholes that let children wander out of class to grab chips, sugary drinks and other junk food. The court, in 2015, handed the case to an expert panel, and the panel’s recommendations nudged the FSSAI to draft the much‑talked‑about guidelines.

On paper, the policy looks simple: keep HFSS foods away from children’s eyes and stomachs, protect them from the growing threat of obesity and related non‑communicable diseases. The intention is noble, and the science backs it—UNICEF’s 2025 Global Child Nutrition Report warned that worldwide, child obesity has overtaken under‑weight as the most common form of malnutrition, affecting roughly 10 % of school‑aged kids.

India’s own data paint a mixed picture. The National Family Health Survey (NFHS‑6, 2023‑24) shows that obesity among children under five dipped to 1.3 % after a slow rise in previous rounds, while overweight rates for 5‑19‑year‑olds hovered around 5 % in NFHS‑5. Yet adult obesity is climbing fast—30.7 % of women and 27.3 % of men aged 15‑49 are now classified as obese.

And it isn’t just the numbers that matter. A systematic review published in the Indian Journal of Community Medicine (2025) found an average child‑obesity prevalence of 6.97 % across the country, with northern states like Delhi hitting a staggering 13.57 %. The reasons are multifactorial: easy access to energy‑dense foods, sedentary lifestyles, screen‑time addiction and even genetics.

But while the urban elite wrestle with calorie‑rich diets and couch‑potato habits, a large swath of children in government schools—often from low‑income families—still battle undernutrition. For many, a packet of cheap, salty biscuits may be a rare treat, not a daily habit. The same 50‑metre rule that tries to keep a chip‑shop at bay could be inconsequential for a child who can’t even afford a banana.

Enforcement, therefore, becomes a logistical nightmare. Private schools with canteens can more easily purge HFSS items from their menus, yet countless government schools lack any canteen at all. In those places, kids buy food from nearby street vendors, making the “within 50 metres” clause hard to police in densely populated towns and villages.

Adding to the confusion is the definition of what counts as “high” fat, sugar or salt. The FSSAI’s draft amendment (August 2026) sets cut‑offs at 4.2 g of added fat per 100 g (solid) or 1.5 g per 100 ml (liquid), 3 g of added sugar per 100 g (solid) or 2 g per 100 ml (liquid), and 0.625 g of salt per 100 g (solid) or 0.175 g per 100 ml (liquid). Food manufacturers argue that these thresholds are arbitrary and threaten product reformulation, while health advocates claim they are still too lenient.

Meanwhile, the Supreme Court is hearing a separate case on front‑of‑pack labelling, a battle that could reshape how consumers see nutritional information. The outcome will likely feed back into how schools enforce the HFSS ban.

What’s clear is that a one‑size‑fits‑all rule can’t solve a problem that is as varied as India itself. In affluent suburbs, the focus might be on limiting sugary drinks and encouraging physical activity. In poorer districts, the priority may still be to ensure children get enough protein and micronutrients, not merely to curb excess calories.

Policy‑makers, therefore, need a two‑pronged approach: stricter regulation of junk food sales near schools, coupled with robust nutrition programmes that address both ends of the spectrum—obesity and undernutrition. School meal schemes, nutrition education, and community‑based monitoring could bridge the divide.

Until the ground reality aligns with the lofty goals of the HFSS regulation, the nutrition divide will continue to widen. The ban is a step forward, but without practical enforcement and complementary public‑health measures, it risks becoming another well‑intentioned decree that fades into the background of India’s complex dietary landscape.