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By:

Kuldeep Ambekar

22 September 2024 at 10:02:18 am

New Names, Old Realities

Renaming hostels may soothe stigma, but it does little to fix the conditions that define students’ lives AI generated image Pune: Recently, the Social Justice and Special Assistance Department decided to excise the term ‘Backward Class’ from the names of its government hostels and rechristen them after revered historical figures. While the move to replace them with names that evoke dignity and achievement is, on the face of it, a step towards psychological emancipation, it is also a reminder...

New Names, Old Realities

Renaming hostels may soothe stigma, but it does little to fix the conditions that define students’ lives AI generated image Pune: Recently, the Social Justice and Special Assistance Department decided to excise the term ‘Backward Class’ from the names of its government hostels and rechristen them after revered historical figures. While the move to replace them with names that evoke dignity and achievement is, on the face of it, a step towards psychological emancipation, it is also a reminder of a familiar tendency in public policy: to mistake symbolism for substance. Across Maharashtra, more than 400 such hostels house thousands of students from rural, tribal and economically weaker backgrounds. For many, these institutions are not mere lodgings; they are the first foothold in an unfamiliar urban landscape, the fragile bridge between deprivation and opportunity. If India’s promise of social mobility is to mean anything, it must begin in places such as these. Sobering Reality But the reality within their walls is sobering. In numerous hostels, access to clean drinking water remains erratic; during the punishing summer months, students rely on water tankers. Sanitary facilities are often in disrepair, with broken drainage systems and irregular cleaning. Food, a basic determinant of health and cognitive ability, is frequently reported to be of poor quality, nutritionally deficient and sourced from substandard supplies. Regular health check-ups are rare, and medical emergencies are handled with alarming uncertainty. These are not minor administrative lapses. They strike at the heart of what ‘social justice’ purports to achieve. A system that promises uplift but delivers neglect risks entrenching the very inequalities it seeks to erase. The contradictions extend beyond infrastructure. In the name of safety, some hostels lack even basic surveillance, while others deploy it in ways that constrain students’ autonomy. Communication between staff and residents is often strained, marked by indifference rather than empathy. Urban hostels, predictably, fare somewhat better. Rural ones lag far behind, reflecting the broader unevenness of state capacity. More troubling still is the creeping culture of control. Under the guise of discipline, students are discouraged and sometimes explicitly threatened from participating in social or political movements. This is a sharp departure from the historical role these hostels once played. They were incubators of ideas, crucibles of leadership and, at times, engines of social change. It was in such spaces that B. R. Ambedkar’s exhortation of “Educate, Agitate, Organize” found its most fertile ground. Education, in this conception, was never meant to be a narrow accumulation of degrees. It was a means to awaken critical consciousness, to challenge hierarchy and to imagine new social arrangements. To strip hostels of this spirit while polishing their names is to honour Ambedkar in form while neglecting him in substance. The government’s decision to rename these institutions after great icons underscores this tension. Names can inspire, but they also impose a standard. A hostel that bears the name of a social reformer or national leader implicitly promises to embody the values associated with that figure. When the infrastructure falls short, the tribute rings hollow. Meaningful Reforms What, then, would constitute a more meaningful reform? The answer is neither obscure nor prohibitively expensive. Dedicated funding for infrastructure upgrades is a starting point. Annual social audits could ensure accountability, while student representation in management would bring much-needed responsiveness. Regular health services and counselling, nutritional monitoring of meals, and access to digital libraries and competitive-exam guidance would transform these hostels from mere shelters into genuine platforms for advancement. The sums involved are modest when set against the scale of public expenditure. Governments routinely announce schemes worth thousands of crores. That a comprehensive plan to improve institutions affecting thousands of vulnerable students has yet to materialise suggests a failure not of resources, but of prioritisation. To be sure, language is not trivial. The removal of a term that connotes backwardness may, over time, chip away at internalised hierarchies. But it cannot substitute for clean water, safe sanitation or intellectual freedom. Nor can it compensate for a system that disciplines initiative rather than nurturing it. The deeper question is whether social justice is understood as a matter of optics or outcomes. If it is the former, then renaming hostels is progress enough. If it is the latter, then the task is far more demanding. It requires policy-level resolve, administrative competence and, above all, the willingness to confront uncomfortable truths about the state of public institutions. For now, the risk is that the signboards will change while the lived experience remains stubbornly the same. Maharashtra’s students deserve better. A hostel, after all, is not merely a place to sleep. It is a university of life that shapes aspirations and builds resilience.

Warriors of Night

Updated: Oct 22, 2024

We name our daughters Durga, Lakshmi and Saraswati; we worship the divine feminine power in the temples but oppress, repress and even attack the feminine power amidst us. That is the irony in the way India sees its women.

After the safety of the daylight fades, women are seen as easy prey by the predators of the night.

We mark the nine nights of Navratri, the festival of the goddess, by celebrating the dedication and valour of nine real-life women who brave the challenges of the night to pursue their dreams.


Part - 4


Never felt unsafe

The singer says there has been a generational change over the last two decades

Never felt unsafe

Work has no timings for Aisha Sayed. Sometimes, she begins her studio recording at 12 AM and finishes by 5 AM; at other times, concerts and live shows start at 9 AM and she’s done by midnight. In her field of work as a performer and singer, Sayed is used to not getting a night’s sleep and often returning home when most of the city is set to wake up. “I have been travelling at night but I have never, ever, felt unsafe in Mumbai,” says the singer-performer who began her career at the age of 13 years. Her father spotted her talent for music and took her to meet a sound engineer who was their neighbour in Bandra. The family helped her get opportunities and from there, her career began.

Being among the top contenders in Indian Idol, season 3, in 2007 catapulted her to fame and it opened up a world of new performance opportunities across the country. “I was just 20 years then and I was travelling the world, performing at the most lavish weddings, staying at the most luxurious hotels and performing at big corporate gigs,” she says. Safety, while on work, is has never been an issue for her for the organizers arrange a security detail for the performers. “They escort us until we reach the room. And since we travel with our team in a big group, there is always safety in numbers,” says Sayed, who sings in 10 languages. Her peers have faced instances of audience members being rowdy. “Once in Delhi, a group of drunk men followed my colleague to her room and kept banging on her door late into the night. But I have been fortunate,” she says.

Work assignments have taken to varied places, from the most luxurious international destinations to far-off venues in the hinterland of India where she’s travelled through dark, dense forested areas. “I have driven through areas where the only light is that of your car’s headlights. Turn around and you see pitch darkness,” says Sayed. She’s always got a little prayer on her lips when travelling through these remote areas for miles together. She recalls a show in Chattisgarh where she had to travel for nine hours at a stretch through remote and forested areas. “No place in our country is as safe as Mumbai,” she stresses. She would know, considering her extensive travels. She advises women to travel in groups while in places that are unfamiliar or unknown and never to venture out at night alone. “Keep your family informed of your whereabouts,” she says.

While her agreements state that proper security at all times, Sayed says that she drives her own car if she’s out at night for parties or personal work but insists that the people of Mumbai are largely helpful and cooperative. A rickshaw driver who once drove to home in the wee hours of the night, after a recording, waited at her gate until the watchman let her in. Friends and colleagues have dropped her home several times.

Mumbai, she feels, has changed—and it’s for the better, in the past two decades. “Earlier, on buses and trains, men would use the crowd as an excuse to touch women inappropriately. That has gone down. There is a generational change that I see,” says Sayed. She used to take the BEST buses and trains to her training classes and for recordings in the early days of her career.

Her timings are inconsistent and her shows take her to various cities and towns. But the Mumbai-bred girl emphasizes that her city is very safe for women, despite the various incidents of violence. “Mumbai is the only place where a woman can wear what she wants, wear bright red lipstick, leave her hair open and look glamorous and still be safe.”

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