Room for Some
By Tanvi Krishnakumar
It is six in the evening on a warm Thursday in the month of March. With most classes done and dusted, you can see everyone sprawled out all over the mess lawns. Wait a minute — did I say, everyone? Do you notice who isn’t present amongst the noisy students? Do you register that their presence has been taken over by the demanding presence of norms and social practices?
Despite the fact that students and staff at Ashoka University are considered equal stakeholders in the well-being of the campus community, it is clear that this is not so. There are a number of ways in which the staff is placed differently from students at the university — differences that the pandemic has made all too visible. One such difference is the glaring inequality in who has access to which spaces on campus and in what manner.
Two people, standing in the pantry, one nonchalantly making noodles and one hesitating to boil water to make tea, looking around, hoping not to get chided. Take a guess at who’s who. Theoretically, the space that defines campus is for everyone in every way. If we so wish, each of us should be able to have lunch in the mess with a Didi or Bhaiya or have a conversation with them while sitting on the mess lawns. However, it is obvious that the theory is blissfully ignored in the realities of how spaces on campus are consciously and subconsciously structured. If you try to sit at the same table as the staff, their supervisors are likely to berate them if they find out. This fear of repercussions — that extends to every aspect of their job — prevents the staff from interacting with students in the first place.
At a fundamental level, why is it such a major issue if a student is friends with a member of the staff? Why would inviting a member of the staff into your room for tea or eating lunch with the horticulture department in the amphitheatre attract judgment? The answer lies in the ways in which class and caste shape our interaction with the Ashokan staff. From casteist slurs used by authorities to crass tones adopted by the students, it is evident how the issue is merely deemed pressing and change isn’t internalised. Strange — given that we study at a university that is seemingly committed to the ideas of equality.
It should not be revolutionary to have to declare that it is not right to treat staff poorly simply by virtue of the work that they do. The Didis and Bhaiyas who make up the housekeeping, laundry, pantry, mess, and horticulture departments are as much, employees of Ashoka University as the faculty. Yet, they are not seen sitting in common rooms, lounges, close to Fuel Zone, THC or the pantry. In fact, many of you might recall how there was an issue with the fact that workers were not being served dessert at the mess most of the time. While this issue seems to have been sorted out, at least for the moment, the very fact that something like this becomes an issue is problematic.
The everyday practices by which we are allowed to inhabit spaces on campus differs as well. Students do not have to think twice before they sit on a stool in the pantry or take a call on the balcony. On the other hand, you will almost never see a Didi or Bhaiya sitting in the pantry and having a conversation with students. You will never see them confident of — what should be their right — to take an important phone call or discuss an issue with a student. The very act of movement for the staff on campus is highlighted by guilt and fear in ways which we students cannot even begin to understand. What is unquestionably normal for us becomes a source of anxiety for staff — unfair normative practices have added to already polluted Sonepat air.
