Razaai: Talking through Art

Sarah Khan, Class of 2021

A razaai, or quilt, is threaded together by lines of ethnic stitching, exuding a unique aesthetic and familiar warmth. Ketan Jain’s project Razaai is not too different.

At its core, Razaai is about dynamism. “We don’t call our events ‘projects,’ we call them ‘processes,’ because we don’t want to think of them as singular events dislocated and isolated; they are continuous and changing in tune with the conditions around us” explained the founder, Ketan Jain (UG 19). Organizer Sufi Dharma (UG 20) elaborated: “We don’t want to make this a thing that we proudly put on our CVs. The reason why Ketan struggles with saying, ‘Oh, I made this thing,’ is because it’s not a thing. It’s not defined; it’s meant to be continuously expanded upon.”

Razaai’s artwork on display I Credits: Himali Thakur, Class of 2019

Razaai’s first workshop broached questions of identity. “I asked everyone to depict in what way they wanted their identities to be looked at. Then I asked them to tear it apart. I gave them another sheet of paper and I told them to make a collage. The idea that your identity is perceived a certain way might never happen. But you’ll always be engaged in the process, so appreciate the process” said Ketan.

They conducted a second workshop with Neev for children from Asawarpur. “The first thing they did was give themselves a name because they addressed each other by their last names which often refers to their caste, so we wanted to create a space where that sort of derogatory behaviour does not interfere with the learning environment.” As for the activity, it took some initial effort to prompt them. “The idea was to depict their favourite part of the day. We were trying to tap into their idea of their identity,” said Sufi. “They were used to a very old-fashioned way of doing art. When we told them to make their favourite parts of the day, they created a house, mountains, a lake, and a sun — like we all did. But once we prompted them a little bit, they went crazy. We had interesting conversations and mad artwork. This one guy actually picked up a flower and glued it on his sheet of paper with some paint,” said Sufi.

On 20th November 2018, Razaai conducted its fourth workshop as part of their series Talking Through Art. Held in SH2 TV lounge, the theme for the event was Course of Life (aka CV). “I haven’t booked this room because the effort is to keep our events in communal and collaborative spaces where anyone can come and join in,” explained Ketan. The space was minimally done up: a razaai lay on the ground encircled by fairy lights at the centre of which were numerous art supplies. A mix of rock and jazz played in the background as the organisers, Ketan, Sufi, and Aayushi Deshpande (ASP 19), welcomed people. A modest turnout of eight to ten students lent the event a cosy and informal air.

A round of introductions followed, and we began with the activity. We were requested to carry a hard-copy of our resumes, and were directed to engage with them through a series of exercises: highlight the work we loved, strike off what we hated, and finally, point arrows on the timelines to add what we wish we had done.

The results were enlightening, amusing, and paradoxical. The highlights ranged from donating the proceeds of a photography exhibition to a philanthropic organization to building an art portfolio; teaching the underprivileged to achieving proficiency in Spanish and Urdu. The strikeouts were the usual suspects: SATs and student council, MUNs and blogging, learning Kathak and violin. “I cut out all my skills and interests because I felt they were tailored for someone else,” said a first year.

The wish list is where imagination soared. “Produce a music event, write a book, intern with Google, had a 20-year teaching career already…” enumerated a tongue-in-cheek Ketan. Others echoed similar sentiments: music, theatre, drums, travel, public speaking. “I wish I made an entirely different resume for art school instead of Ashoka,” yearned a first-year. “I wish I read all Ruskin Bond novels,” shared another. Unconventional longings intensified: “Minoring in Satanism, although I’m rethinking it.” We concluded the activity with a conflicting statement that epitomised our love-hate relationship with Ashoka, rousing a collective sigh of sympathy: “I highlighted Ashoka. I struck out Ashoka.”

We were then instructed to hand over our resumes to the person sitting next to us. And destroy it. Surprised, amused, disappointed, we set to achieve destruction in the most creative way possible: painting a rainbow over it, crafting a boat from it, or simply crushing and crumbling it.

The overall exercise was revelatory and cathartic. The introspection and subsequent destruction was both an act of rebellion as well as the reinvention of the interplay of personal desires and educational standards. In that moment, we felt an elevated spirit of autonomy; we had redefined our sense of self rather than let it be dictated by society. Expanding on this idea of autonomy, Sufi Dharma said, “It’s the reality we’re trying to understand, so it’s better we arrive at it, rather than someone telling us this is how it is and now you look for it.”

Razaai is not very different from the quilt we are familiar with. It threads together strands of the political and personal in a kaleidoscope of colour through music, self-reflection, and expression. As Ketan summarised, “We don’t think of politics in an emotional way, in a personal way; in terms of art, in terms of the literature we read, or in terms of the media we consume. Razaai was born out of the effort to connect those two realms: the political and the personal.” To the beat of the music, amid chatter and quips, it channels the artist and the activist in us — comforting us and challenging us at the same time.

Razaai is working on a collaboration with the Psychology Society, they plan to hold an exhibition at the Ashoka Literature Festival, and collaborate with YIF’s on an ELM project titled “philARTtropy” aimed at conducting art workshops with the children in Asawarpur. As for Talking Through Art, Ketan has started to curate the artwork, produced during the workshops, across the campus.

Razaai is looking for more collaborators and contributors from the spheres of media and arts, inviting students for conversations and ideas. However, the founders remain hesitant to structure Razaai into a “thing.” “It’s never going to be one thing. You can take it wherever you want.”

The author is a staff writer for the Arts & Culture column of the Edict.

Somewhere Under the Rainbow

Aninthitha Nath, Class of 2021

Twiddling my rainbow pin, I sat on the metro, eyeing the route to Rajiv Chowk. Colours flooded the compartment — blue and purple ribbons on wrists, faces already smeared in rainbow, and eyeliner melting in the unexpected warmth. Jostling my way out, I followed the colours to Tolstoy Marg, looking for some familiar faces. A quick call confirmed that my friends were towards the front of the parade. I wormed my way through the sequins and posters, until an excited squeal confirmed that I was in the right place. “Oh honey, this couldn’t be gayer”, my friend exclaimed, and I chuckled. I stood under a flagpole and waved away the billowing smoke while they painted rainbows across my face.

We marched under the balloon arch, hips swaying to the beat, and clicked pictures of every poster we came across. It was all so shiny and exciting; the sheer magnitude and diversity of the crowd was enough to make me hover above the ground. People were loud and queer, and the novelty never wore off. Pride is a lot of things to a lot of people: a protest, a party, an open stage, but to me, it was…gay, in every sense of the word.

“1 2 3 4, open up your closet doors, 5 6 7 8, don’t assume you kids are straight”, we shouted till our voices were hoarse. I looked down at my phone, and hesitated. My fingers edged towards the chat but kept backing off at the last minute. I took a deep breath and forwarded all the pictures I’d taken to my family. They weren’t homophobic; they knew, and were very accepting of the community. They even wished me luck when I made an offhand comment about going to Pride. That unwarranted hesitation still lurked, and I didn’t exhale until the little dots on the screen gave way to, “Nice pictures kanna, you look very happy. Enjoy!”

I took my friend’s hand and crossed the road. Police barricades had stopped the traffic for us and I couldn’t help but think how this was the “Move I’m gay” vine come to life. It was heartwarming to see groups of school kids in their uniforms. The fact that they were out there to support the March meant that times were changing for us and conversations about the LGBTQ community weren’t completely hushed up.

The crowd swept us away under a giant rainbow flag, and we moved along holding the flag up for a stretch. It felt safe under the rainbow, filtered sunbeams dancing on the faces in the crowd.

Somewhere under the rainbow, were entwined fingers.

Somewhere under the rainbow, were gentle caresses.

Somewhere under the rainbow, was love.

And maybe someday, it’ll be over the rainbow.

The King in the City of Angels

**Creator:**Thearon W. Henderson **Copyright:**2015 Getty Images

Taking a looking at the consequences and repercussions of Lebron James’s move to the Los Angeles Lakers.

When Lebron James announced his decision to move to the Los Angeles Lakers, ripples spread across not only the NBA but the entire sports world. After all, Lebron is arguably the best player in the NBA and one of the world’s most marketable athletes. People immediately pitched in to give their opinions about the move, from the biggest sports anchors to random social media commenters. Majority concurred that this was an expected move and many had seen this coming.

There are many reasons this could be seen as the right move by Lebron. LA offers him a chance to be close to the show business promoting his brand to greater heights. He also has an opportunity to prove his worth in the relatively tougher Western conference and a chance to add his own story to the illustrious history of the LA Lakers. A month and half into the NBA season, as the teams get into the swing of things and the competition starts to heat up, how are the LA Lakers and Lebron James doing?

First, Lebron’s trade led to quite a lot of movement between teams to make up for their weaknesses. The stronger teams looked to build up a strong bench to help support their stars while the weaker teams looked to land a superstar to vault their team into the spotlight. The East conference became an attractive place for stars to make their mark given that the throne of the Eastern conference, held for 9 years by James, now sits empty. The Lakers themselves made quite a few trades in order to ensure Lebron had a good supporting cast for the upcoming season while the younger players on the Lakers benefitted from the veteran experience one of the best players in the world brought with him.

Surprisingly, the predictions turned out to be quite accurate. The Lakers had a rough start to the season, where a string of losses had many questioning whether Lebron made the right move. There were a few bright spots with some stellar performances by Lebron that managed to push the Lakers to victory but this raised questions about the team’s situation in the long run. How long will Lebron be able to carry this team on his back especially now that he is past his physical prime? A few terrible games by the Lakers prompted Lebron to announce to the media that “He has to tell himself to calm down and be patient” which showed that all was not going as Lebron expected. An advantage for the Lakers is that the Western Conference so far has been in a turmoil, with teams like Golden State Warriors and Houston Rockets also struggling. This has levelled out the playing field and the Lakers find themselves in not too bad a position though how long this will last is hard to say.

What has been good is that the Lakers are in a better position compared to their 2017 season which was a disaster. The players on the team seem to be improving, given that they have a strong leader while Lebron has started to find his groove given his recent string of impressive performances. The Lakers are certainly getting their money’s worth marketing wise with Lebron’s jerseys being the second most sold in the country and Lebron himself has seen his brand grow hugely. The Eastern and Western conferences are now more equal in terms of competition which was all elicited by Lebron’s trade which has spiced up the ongoing season. It’s a new situation for Lebron, to move to a team that is struggling and it definitely tests his leadership skills, but this trade has more positive consequences than negative and it has overall got the fans excited for another blistering season of NBA basketball.

Bohemian Rhapsody: An uninspired tribute to a legendary musician

Kiana Manian, Class of 2021

Queen’s 1975 single “Bohemian Rhapsody” is regarded as one of the greatest songs of all time. The six-minute suite is a powerful musical story, combining ballad, opera, and hard rock — seemingly disjointed but nothing short of magic. The 2018 movie of the same name is more of a romp through Queen’s Greatest Hits than a biopic. The movie fails to have the same impact as its namesake. The trailer claimed that the only thing more extraordinary than their music was their frontman, Freddie Mercury’s story, and while that may be the case, the storytelling in this movie failed to do justice to the legendary musician.

Stylistically, Bohemian Rhapsody isn’t sure of what it is. Sometimes a ‘gritty and honest’ view into the perils of fame; at others, a dysfunctional family drama about four people who, at the end of the day, love each other and make phenomenal music. All throughout, the movie becomes white noise at a dingy karaoke bar urging people to sing along with grating rainbow lyrics that in no way fit with the dramatic and realistic aesthetic the film tries to establish. The narrative is unfocused, with multiple storylines built up to no climax. We get no character development, no resolution of conflict, just snappy one-liners that detract from the gravity that the storytelling could have achieved. Many scenes are nothing but unnecessary reminders of Queen’s unique place in rock ’n’ roll hall of fame and added nothing to the story but self-congratulation.

What saves the movie are the performances. The actors play off each other with great ease, their chemistry palpable. The highlight for me was the beautifully essayed relationship between Freddie Mercury and Mary Austin, owing to the performances of Rami Malek and Lucy Boynton. Their realistic depiction of two people with an endless love for each other but nowhere to go with it gave some poignant moments. Maybe the whole “love of my life” refrain was a little tedious, but the ups and downs of their great non-romance were enough to make a great movie in itself.

Love at first sight: Freddie Mercury (Rami Malek) and Mary Austin (Lucy Boynton) I Source: glamour.com

While Mercury’s relationship with Austin bolsters much of the narrative, what is problematic is that the end of their romance is treated as the tragedy of him being gay. Having read a review before watching the movie myself, I was sceptical about how the movie would approach Mercury’s sexuality and struggles with immigrant identity. The tokenism, stereotyping, and a careless attitude towards real struggles faced by a real person are hard to forgive. His parents and family exist only as a reminder of his Parsi origins. The Zoroastrian philosophy of ‘good thoughts, good deeds, good words’ is repeated many times only for the tiniest payoff. What could be a heartfelt reconciliation between Freddie and his father ends up coming across as forced and unrealistic. Mercury’s exploration and discovery of his sexual identity is portrayed through a sex and drug-fueled stupor that lacks the care and depth that his relationship with Austin received. This cannot simply be attributed to a problem in the director’s vision, Bryan Singer being an openly gay man himself, but it certainly falls prey to the problematic notions that conflate queerness with excess and promiscuity. Going from being in a straight, monogamous relationship to having liaisons with a frenzy of men, including his “villainous” manager Paul Prenter, portrays his sexuality in a negative light. His relationship with Jim Hutton, in reality as serious, long and loving as his relationship with Austin, is not given its due. The movie seems to be in a hurry to establish it, conveniently forgets about it midway and suddenly picks it up to tie loose ends.

A still from the final Live Aid sequence I Source: 20th Century Fox

And, of course, there is Mercury’s AIDS diagnosis, which the movie blatantly uses as a dramatic device. Following from his promiscuous days, the illness is made to seem like another misgiving of his sexual orientation, a seminal moment of reconciliation with his bandmates, and a segue to the final Live Aid performance. In actuality (as I said, I don’t care about accuracy, I care about truth), his diagnosis came after the concert, and Live Aid was not a final goodbye or a poetic moment of revelation and closure. It was unfair to reduce the disease that took his life to a convenient plot point.

On a final note, Rami Malek had the mammoth task of becoming Freddie Mercury and, he did not disappoint! Though there were moments when you couldn’t escape the rushed story and contrived navigation, he never ceased to amaze and successfully carried the entire second half (a considerably better half) on his bedazzled shoulders. His delivery is flawless and he walks the line of tortured and fantastic, very sweet and vulnerable with care. Even in a movie that pays no attention to character development, Malek is as whole as he can be.

(From R to L) Ben Hardy as Roger Taylor, Gwilym Lee as Brian May, Joseph Mazzello as John Deacon, Rami Malek as Freddie Mercury I Credits: 20th Century Fox

Ultimately, what’s disappointing about Bryan Singer’s love letter to the iconic band is that it fails to rise to the challenge of capturing the greatness of Mercury’s journey. It didn’t do what Queen did best — stand out from their contemporaries and completely captivate an audience. That’s not to say that the film isn’t enjoyable or that there weren’t good moments, but Bohemian Rhapsody never truly realises its vision to memorialize Queen or Mercury’s legacy, in all its glory. More than anything, it is a medley of Queen’s most popular numbers driving the story. For some, Bohemian Rhapsody may be the foot-stomping celebration promised to fans, but the extraordinary story of Freddie Mercury is “yet to have its finest hour”. I hope it’s coming soon.

The author is a staff writer for the Arts & Culture column of the Edict.

Engage: A “Fascist” Saved My People

Shashank Mattoo, Class of 2020

Engaging with the RSS/BJP combine allowed me to understand why decent, hardworking people buy into an ideology that is so plainly bad for the country.

Yeah, you read that right. A “fascist” saved my people. That man was Jagmohan Malhotra: Lieutenant Governor of Kashmir during the worst days of militancy and perhaps one of the most controversial Indian politicians alive. Opinions could not be more starkly divided about Jagmohan among Kashmiris: Kashmiri Pandits (my community) hail him as a hero. My grandmother gets teary eyed even as I write this article about how Jagmohan organised the escape of the Pandits from the valley. “Nobody fought for us” she recalls. “Only Jagmohan was there. He commandeered every vehicle he could lay his hands on and got us to safety”. My grandfather, a retired IAS officer, has often told me that in his view, the Kashmiri Pandit community would not have survived. On the other hand, I’ve gotten to see the other side of Jagmohan from stories resident Kashmiris from the valley have recounted about his tenure. These concern the dark side of his tenure: extrajudicial operations and carte-blanche killings that have earned him the moniker “laash watul”.

Pictured: Jagmohan Malhotra (Source: https://kashmirlife.net/jagmohan-days-95656/)

Until a few years ago, I could never understand how my family could vote for the BJP. Like many organising the protest against the RSS Pracharak Shivkumar, I looked upon the BJP/RSS combine as one that propagated hate and threatened to destroy the secular fabric of this country. I still do. But I listened to my family as they recounted what Jagmohan had done for their people. My people. In their view, Jagmohan had joined the party that stood for Hindus and the Kashmiri Pandits. I took the opportunity to engage with Jagmohan’s ideas by reading his autobiography and watching his interviews. That gave way to a larger interest into what the RSS/BJP combine was all about, what made it tick and what gave it power. In doing so, I went to a number of in-person sessions with RSS/BJP functionaries and tried to understand what made them tick. Engaging with those ideas gave me two things: first, it made me more resolute in my opposition to the BJP’s ideology. Having engaged with it, entertained it and discarded it, I saw why it was the wrong one for India. Second, and perhaps more importantly, I got to understand my family and country better. I understood why decent, hardworking people buy into an ideology that is so plainly bad for the country. In one corner of India, Jagmohan saved lives. In another, Modi promised to build them a temple. In yet another, the RSS provided free healthcare and education when the government couldn’t.

Understanding and engaging the BJP and the RSS is as important as peacefully protesting them. To close your eyes to it is to close your eyes to modern India and why these organisations gained power. To those who fear a fascist ascendancy in India, taking this opportunity to interact with a member of these organisations in-person is imperative because it helps you get closer to identifying the cause of their success. Books and TV interviews are one thing and debating an articulate pracharak or politician in-person is quite another. And if telling a pracharak and his ideology to take a hike is what you want, then doing it in person is the way to go. Trust me, if I could do that to Jagmohan, I would.

Shashank Mattoo is second year student majoring in Political Science who takes great pride in his Kashmiri roots and Bangalore origins. This piece is a part of a series Engage started by The Edict to gauge student opinions on a recent controversy regarding a talk on campus by an RSS member.

Engage

Dhruv Raman, ASP Batch of 2019.

“Imagine this. There are 5 murderers, followed by 40 people (Group R) and 5 non-murderers, followed by 20 people (Group L). While these 60 people engage in conversations with each other, they refuse to engage with the opposite group’s leader. As a result, in interactions, the murderers are always faced with people from Group R. These people listen to their leader, hear others praising them and always find their grievances addressed. They continue to support the 5 murderers who consequently, stay in power. Both groups accuse each other of not listening to each other’s point of view. It’s 40 and 20.

A member from Group L decides to attend a talk by one of the 5 murderers. She listens patiently and in the question session, points out a glaring flaw in the murderer’s argument. The members of group R see their leader fumble, evade and get agitated. Most of them ignore it but a few of them — who’ve always followed the herd — thinks she made sense. They speak to her and maybe even listen to the non murderers. Someone, somewhere, changes their belief. It’s 39 and 21.”

The First Century at Ashoka

100 full scholarships announced for the Batch of 2019–22

Gahena Gambani, Class of 2020

Ashoka University has always maintained that it “endeavours to provide necessary financial support” to students who require it. This can mean two things: offering partial aid, which covers portions of the tuition costs for the three/four years spent here, or full aid, which covers all costs incurred as a part of the program. Close to half of the undergraduate student body attends Ashoka on some amount of financial aid. This aid is strictly need based and is distributed across recipients at the discretion of the Office of Financial Aid.

It seems this endeavour to enable students from various socio-economic backgrounds to study at Ashoka, has deepened with the introduction of 100 full-scholarships for the Batch of 2019–22. According to a statement from the Office, “This will include all scholarships, from a 100% waiver on Tuition up to a full waiver on all costs.” These scholarships will remain need-based, keeping with the Office’s philosophy of “making [Ashoka’s] world-class education affordable for students from all walks of life.”

This move comes not long after the introduction of a monthly stipend of Rs. 3000 for students on exceptional aid. This stipend covers living costs, over and above all the costs of the Ashoka program, for a period of 10 months each academic year. Further, it was only in January 2018 that the administration changed its stance on minimum academic requirements for students on financial aid.

These appreciable attempts also draw attention to the implications they might have for the diversity on campus. Even though Ashoka has admitted growing throngs of students each year, the criticism of it being a campus for the privileged still persists. The claim of increasing diversity may seem counterintuitive since arguably large groups of students are admitted from the same schools across the country in each batch. As of now, the range of people occupying this 25-acre piece of land is still frighteningly small. Perhaps, an increase in the number of scholarships could impact change in the currently limited range of places/schools from which students are admitted.

Having exactly 100 full scholarships raises the question — how many partial scholarships will now be distributed? Subsequently, how many students are to be accepted to the batch of 2022 — does Ashoka wish to admit more than the already large batch of 500 newcomers it welcomed this year? Is this related to the construction of the new campus, scheduled at the earliest for 2021? How does the administration intend to fit over a thousand students on a campus that is smaller than some schools in Delhi?

Finally, the question that some might say should have been the first one — where does this money come from? Even though Ashoka received an anonymous donation of Rs. 100 crore earlier this year, it cannot be assumed that all financial tremors ended there. With the cost of running the campus only increasing with new inhabitants; the construction of a new library, residence hall and an entirely new campus are still underway, the announcement of new scholarships is definitely something to think about.

The future is clear

By Shubhang Ojha, Class of 2020

Sign out, but don’t sign in?

They keep record of those who go off campus, but do they monitor those who come in?

Gahena Gambani, Class of 2020

With students waiting with bated breath for the official declaration of the impending curfew, there has been a general sense of reservation about moving out of campus, especially during the late night hours. The administration is surely taking interest in keeping track of those going off campus, but there seems to be a lack of similar interest in those coming inside, which has become evident after Ashoka had a surprise visitor a few days back.

While this definitely makes for an interesting visitor, the reasons for his visit are unknown at the time of publishing.

The Dismal People of a Dismal Science

Vinayak Sahi, Class of 2020

An economics major must realise beforehand that nothing in this world can be certain but death, taxes, and exams. The life of an Ashokan majoring in economics is a lot of work and if they expect that they will have a college experience equivalent to the one seen in Hollywood films, one might say they are yet to come to their senses. When they do though, they often make it a point to grudge the work they have every single day, until they relinquish themselves to the bitter truth that they must work consistently in order to keep themselves above the water.

It is evident that the Economics program in Ashoka is a challenging one where the student must be fully committed to educating themselves in the discipline by listening to some of the most brilliant minds that the world has to offer. Even our professors, who are well acquainted with the subject at hand, put in hours of work so that every lecture is crafted to precision and delivered in perfection. However, if I maybe so bold as to give a dissenting opinion about the subject with which I am yet to acquaint myself properly, I want to present a two-fold contention with what I am presently learning — an ideological one and a technical one.

Firstly, the ideological trouble that I have is not as narrow as the one between socialists and capitalists. These labels can be far too limiting to permit a sociable conversation and I do not intend to argue about the economics taught to us being heavily oriented to either side. The issue that I have is rather an environmental one.

Economics as a subject has been moulded by crisis. For instance, David Ricardo’s theory on comparative advantage came as response to the economic nationalism of that time, enforced in the form of the Corn Laws enacted by the then British Prime Minister, Lord Liverpool. A more recent instance is that of the Great Depression and the subsequent crisis of freedom characterized by the Second World War and the despotic regime of the Soviet Union. The Great Depression was not solved by a miracle of God but rather by the power of Keynesian ideas of increased government spending. Moreover, it was thinkers such as Hayek and Friedman who showed the intrinsic relation between freedom and the capitalist economic system.

The crisis of our generation is not primarily one of freedom or world poverty. Of course, we are still plagued by issues of freedom and world poverty. If we were to dedicate resources to solve the said issues, as a species, we shall definitely be better off. But our crisis is an existential one — of the environment, and if we continue to turn a blind eye towards the brewing environmental problem, we would be infinitely worse off. One method of approaching this problem has been to say that the issue of global warming is a hoax or that the scientists who have dedicated their lives to research on this issue are just propagating ‘fake news.’ But a rather prudent way would be to see it as an eminent problem in urgent need of a solution. The question I ask is this — is the economics being taught in our classroom equipping us to deal with arguably the most eminent crisis we face as a generation? I certainly don’t think it is.

In classes, we are taught the Smithian idea of the world where individual pursuit of self interests leads to a structure of society which makes everyone better off. If we add the element pertaining to the sustainability of the planet and the survival of future generations, this structure fails us. Its perpetuation shall lead to a sorry outcome for everyone on this planet. In the language of economics, all of us might be better off in the short run, but in the long run, we will all be dead.

I find a certain academic irresponsibility when we discuss powerful models of organizing production and distribution of goods and services, while hardly talking about the massive unaccounted externalities created by the current system of excessive conversion of natural resources to marketable assets. For example, the production of 1kg of meat uses 5000 litres of water (as per the Guardian), and leads to a huge amount of carbon usage. The system we have propped up and learnt about is a definitive recipe for disaster. Economics at Ashoka is tooling us up for the past crises that have come and gone while forgetting the responsibility towards the future where all of it will matter conditional upon the system’s survival. The system in turn will survive only if the students think about the current economic structure and about reforming it to form a stable sustainable scheme. But the technical problem I highlight next has played a role in preventing engagement with these ideas.

This brings me to the second issue, which pertains to the organization of classes at Ashoka. It would not be wrong to assume that the Ashokan academic model is an abridgment of the American Model, designed for four years. However, the UGC restrictions mould Economics at Ashoka in tandem with a three year programme, out of which a year is spent on finishing foundation courses, with two spent on finishing the major chosen. We are offered an optional fourth year but the courses, especially in Economics, are essentially designed to fit the UGC constraint.

This results in Ashokan professors and students being hurried to finish the basic amount of knowledge required for the next course in a linear structure. There is a transfer of knowledge, but not necessarily an efficient enough one. There seems to exist a Pareto optimal allocation of time which we still have not reached. It would not be imprudent to consider extending class time per semester, either through more class hours, or extending the semester by just two weeks. This could be implemented if the professor deems it necessary for a certain course, and while, the students might not be too happy about it, at least a satisfactorily good enough pace for teaching and being taught can be achieved.

The economics at Ashoka University introduces us to many powerful ideas but hardly allows us to engage with them. We touch the idea, but are forced to run for the next so that the mandated portions may be covered adequately. The issue with this is that we do not struggle to confront or understand both the idea and its significance in the world. In order to allow for effective learning, there is a need to question and critique ideas. Even if you might be proven wrong by minds of equal if not more prowess, it still strengthens your knowledge. For instance, think of the ‘aha’ moment in mathematics when you realize that you have been approaching the problem wrongly the whole day. It may seem to be a wastage of your time, but the impact of that realisation shall ingrain itself in your brain, and the conceptual clarity arises out of logic, not memorisation.

The status quo may seem to be satisfactory. But Ashoka’s foundation is not to recreate status quo. It is to make a better one, and then question the same. I completely agree that the curriculum designed for us matches some of the top institutions of the world, but the larger, bolder question remains — will the economics tools taught to us in class be adequate for the looming challenge of the environment or must we replace the entire armoury to combat the threat to our very survival?