By Ragini Chatterjee, Class of 2020
Speed Reads: The Problem of Susan
Himali Thakur, Class of 2019
Reading for pleasure is a myth for most of us at Ashoka. It’s sad to see our reading habits slide into oblivion as classes assault us with a never-ending stream of papers and assignments. To save the voracious reader in you, The Edict brings the Speed Reads Series — stories handpicked to fit your planned/unplanned study breaks.
This week’s story is “The Problem of Susan” by Neil Gaiman.
Genre: Fantasy
Reading time: 2967 words, approximately 15 minutes.
Trigger warning: The story contains graphic discussions of violence and death.
Link: “The Problem of Susan” on Grotesque and Decadent, Tumblr
Synopsis:
“…I remember thinking what a great deal of damage a train can do, when it hits another train, to the people who were travelling. I suppose you’ve never had to identify a body, dear?”
“No.”
“That’s a blessing. I remember looking at them and thinking, What if I’m wrong, what if it’s not him after all? My younger brother was decapitated, you know. A god who would punish me for liking nylons and parties by making me walk through that school dining room, with the flies, to identify Ed, well … he’s enjoying himself a bit too much, isn’t he?”
Greta Campion is all set to interview Professor Hasting, a mild old woman who specialises in the field of children’s literature. How can a discussion of children’s stories be complete without a mention of Narnia? And most of all, how can a conversation about Narnia be complete without talking about the problem of Susan Pevensie — the elder sister who does not get to go “further in and further up” to Aslan’s country because she is too interested in “lipsticks, nylons and invitations”?
Why should I read it?
Gaiman gives a wonderful response to an ending that unsettled many of us: is Susan excluded from Aslan’s country (read: Heaven) because she became aware of her sexuality — because she indulged in the ‘sin of Eve’? Even if you are not familiar with the Narnia series, “The Problem of Susan” makes for an excellent quick read that unsettles ideas on sexuality and desire. Gaiman also has interesting comments on the “sanctimonious” nature of the stories now written for children.
If you have read Gaiman before, you will hardly need more than a nudge to read this story. People familiar with his style will note that he starts the story with a dream; Gaiman often uses dreams as a device to introduce a surreal feel to his stories, and he utilises this device with great effect in “The Problem of Susan”.
If you’re interested in writing for this series, email your recommendations (in the same format as this article) to edict@ashoka.edu.in.
On Shuttle Etiquette
By Ketaki Mathur (Class of 2020), Sakshi Agarwal (Class of 2020) and Arushi Jain (Class of 2018)
All India Inter University Shooting Competition
Ishaan Banerji, Class of 2019
Our team consisted of Rajyavardhan Singh, Jonathan Fernandes, Rahul Menon and me, Divij Singh, on Men’s Rifles. Vidur Singh, Shreshth Budhiraja and Sanchit Goel were on Men’s Pistols. Trisha Mukherjee, Vatsala Peshawaria were on Women’s Rifles, and Kriti Jain was on Women’s Pistol, and last but not least, Kashika Gokhale, on both Women’s Rifle and Pistol (one in each hand, think Rambo).
Now, let’s go over the technical details. So here’s the basics. We had a few matches per day, going from the 10th of November to the 14th. Men fired 60 shots, women 40, and our rifles and pistols used compressed air to fire the pellets, over a distance of ten metres. Considering that most of us had practiced for maybe a month and a half, we did quite well. Trisha of course was the star, scoring a 397/400 in her match, and coming third in her category.
Now that that’s out of the way, let’s talk about the real stuff. The food. A word of caution, Amritsari food has a lot of love. By love, I of course mean butter. As though further proof were needed, literally the first place we ate was called Makhan Fish and Chicken. Delicious butter chicken and naans, would endanger cholesterol again (in fact we did, having gone back once more before leaving). Near the Golden Temple we visited Bharawan da Dhaba, where we ate some shahi paneer and dal makhni, yet again with naans (correct me if I’m wrong, but I think there’s a pattern). Many of us ate excellent stuffed kulchas at the appropriately named Kulcha Land. We rounded out the meal locations with a few other places, including the host college’s canteen (Guru Nanak Dev University, Arts Cafe), and pizza from Dominos and subs from Subway (don’t you call me names, we were tired).
So, all in all, a good time courtesy an interesting shooting tournament and some brilliant food. To close this out, a great traveling tip for Amritsar: just add ‘ji’ whenever addressing someone, and they’ll think you’re a local.
Surat Ultimate Open ‘17
Ishaan Banerji, Class of 2019
Over the last weekend, Ashoka Hammerheads, the Ultimate Frisbee team, participated in a national tournament in Surat, called Surat Ultimate Open, one of the four tournaments of the year-long UPAI(Ultimate Players’ Association of India) tour. The tournament was conducted on the 17th, 18th and 19th of November, at Fountainhead School in Surat, along with grounds all across the city.
26 teams from all over the country convened in Surat for the tournament, with 3 teams from Delhi, namely Hammerheads, GK Mad, and Stray Dogs in Sweaters(yes, the names in the Ultimate community are weird). The tournament ended with a dazzling final between the India U24 team, that is preparing for a tournament in Perth, Australia, and Jumbish, a team from Surat itself. The match was liberally peppered with all-out layouts, some insane skies, and some of the best throws one might ever see.
The Hammerheads started with a seeding of 17, and over the course of the tournament, reached 14. Having reached the highest seed of any team in Division 2(17 downwards), Hammerheads also won the Division 2 award. The team also came close to winning the Most Spirited Team award, ending the tournament as second on the list. The team consisted of 17 players, 11 men and 6 women, and was overall the best team that Ashoka has put up in the last couple of years, and with Ahmadabad Ultimate Open coming up in a couple of months, hopefully they go further and further.
Foreign
Third-year undergraduate student Success Sibanda, who hails from Zimbabwe, writes on his experiences with racism and internationalism in India and Ashoka.
“ I know I ain’t from here
There’s a lot I gotta bear
Coz my family isn’t here
When I need an ear to listen they missing
Some people dissing me for being black
Only a few got my back
They take my cake and then run with it
Their love is fake and I’m done with it
…..
Every time man I’m the foe because I’m foreign
If there’s a murder then I’m the Cain — get blamed for the fallen Tell me what’s to gain from this hatred — We kindred
of different races — Just there’s a dread on my head
Man my dead are your dead
From the same food we fed
I do good and not bad
In every single thing I do
Make sure I pay my dues”
I wrote the lyrics to ‘Foreign’ after the Greater Noida incident when African students were attacked and accused of killing an Indian teenage boy. (May his soul rest in peace). The attacks had all the hallmarks of racism, therefore I was extremely saddened, angered and disappointed. These lyrics address that issue, and broader issues that international students face.
In the first few bars I address what it’s like to be so far from home, without the familial support we all need. I also implicitly point out that I face racism and discrimination. In between I acknowledge that I have made some friends, who have my back. The first two lines of the next are a reference to the Greater Noida attacks, with an allusion to the Bible. Next, I point out the folly of discriminating against each other, since we are all humans after all. I point out that I felt sad for the teenager who lost his life, as much as any Indian would. The last three lines are sort of a plea for innocence.
My Experience as an International Student
Whenever I have reflected on my experience as an international student at Ashoka University, the core always boils down to two seemingly contradictory things: the amazing relationships I have formed, and the fears and apprehensions I have had to overcome.
The first of these two has been positive in all aspects. At Ashoka, I have met people whose warmth and kindness touches the soul. From the football field to the classroom; from housekeepers to professors, I have made friendships which I believe will be for life. It will be sad to say goodbye to this place and the people I have met here. In many ways, I feel at home within the walls of Ashoka University.
On the other hand, the second point bears some not-so-warm realities. Beyond the borders of our campus lies a world that requires careful navigation, if one is an international student. Be it in the Metro or the shopping Mall, I have been a spectacle and a victim. Constant staring, sniggers, people touching my hair without asking, being shoved off a seat, being extra thoroughly searched at metro station checkpoints, being overcharged, et cetera. The list can go on.
Delhi may not be the friendliest of cities for Africans and indeed other foreigners, but even in that atmosphere I have made friends for life. This is the paradox of my experience as an international student here. And after observing so it must be realised that we, as international students, face a unique plight in and around this environment, and that unique solutions are at times necessary in order to eliminate the problems we face. Thus, we came together and decided to form the Ashoka University International Students’ Association, (AUISA): which we hope shall enable us to organise ourselves better and deal with issues as a collective body.
Therefore, we hope, as the founders of AUISA, to promote multicultural learning and global engagement. The AUISA actively works towards the welfare of students who cross international borders to be at Ashoka University. However, that is not our sole focus. We believe in the spirit of inclusivity and strive to foster a sense of community especially with our host country. To that end, we did not make AUISA exclusive to non-Indian Ashokan students but membership is open to any and all residential Indian students who feel the need to have an international experience.
Speed Reads: Dispo and the Crow
Himali Thakur, Class of 2019
Reading for pleasure is a myth for most of us at Ashoka. It’s sad to see our reading habits slide into oblivion as classes assault us with a never-ending stream of papers and assignments. To save the voracious reader in you, The Edict brings the Speed Reads Series — stories handpicked to fit your planned/unplanned study breaks.
This week’s story is “Dispo and the Crow” by Rich Larson.
Genre: Science Fiction, Dystopia
Approximate reading time: 2971 words, approximately 15 minutes.
Link: “Dispo and the Crow” on Mythic Delirium
Synopsis:
Dispo did not have time for elegies anymore, but the crow brought him to bodies far more reliably than his old bioscanners. He started carrying two corpses at a time and burying them in tandem. The neat rows in the park skewed. Burial mounds appeared in other parts of the city, anywhere with 1.8 meters of soil.
On planet Earth, Dispo (short for “Post-Mortem Retrieval / Disposal Unit”) lives alone. Every day, he buries several corpses around the decaying city. His peace is undisturbed, until one day, a biological organism appears — a crow. The scavenger desecrates the bodies, ripping out their entrails as if they were nothing more than pieces of flesh. Angered and disgusted, Dispo tries to save the bodies from his ‘nemesis’. However, in the process, he forms a symbiotic relationship with the crow. The only barrier is Dispo’s firewall that repeatedly reminds him not to interact with biological organisms and the AI infections they bring with them.
Why should I read it?
Larson gives a twist to his Wall — E-inspired world by asking a simple question: what happens to our dead when we leave? The answer is not a zombie revolution, where the radioactive waves magically bring the corpses to life. They’re not even violated by scavengers because there are no scavengers to prey on them. Instead, they’re being piled on top of each other, to clear space for the return of ‘humankind’. Larson describes, in graphic detail, the background against which the plot of “Dispo and the Crow” unfolds. He reminds us of Leo Tolstoy’s question (that haunted many of us in ICSE): how much land does a person really require?
If you’re interested in writing for this series, email your recommendations (in the same format as this article) to edict@ashoka.edu.in.
Gender In An Eggshell
Arush Pande, Class of 2019
Disclaimer: I have not written in detail about gender identities other than male and female. This is in no way to insinuate that I do not recognise the gendered struggle of non-binary identities. I just think that they are politicised differently and including them in this article would not do justice to their concerns.
I write this as some “Liberal Teen” tags me in a meme about the Egg-Throwing Incident. When people first started responding to my post with memes, I was a little disturbed — mostly because my politics was being trivialised, being reduced to a joke aimed at social media validation. About three weeks after the Incident, it pleases me that a bunch of people (“coincidentally” mostly men) still feel the desperate need to ridicule what I was saying. It further strengthens my belief that I raised something important, something that they are happy to sweep under the carpet.
I identify as a male feminist (the equivalent of an “anti-national” in the world of gender). No, this does not mean that I think that men do not experience sexual harassment. I do, however, think that they enjoy structural privilege that manifests in the form of entitlement over public spaces. This is not to say that all men are — pardon my candour — assholes that are out to reinforce their superiority over other genders. But it is to say that our innocent seeming actions — be it the repeated use of gendered words like “mankind” and “hysterical”, or the kind of leverage we assume with women in the name of “fooling around” — are often driven, facilitated and/or catalysed by deeply internalised gender norms. And as much as that does not give rise to “culpability”, it is useful to think about the ways in which each one of us is responsible for the reinforcement and strengthening of gendered power dynamics.
It did not come as a surprise to me that people were disturbed by my decision to gender my post. After all, wouldn’t we all like to believe that Ashoka University is this La La Land where human civilisation has reached the pinnacle of egalitarianism and all forms of identity-based oppression have been left far behind? And the outrageous number of CASH cases that come up every semester — the “larger” issues that everybody is a lot more comfortable talking about — are merely unfortunate, inexplicable aberrations of behaviour that arise in this otherwise Feminist Utopia? The problem lies in us looking at these incidents in isolation as opposed to examining them structurally, which would involve scrutinising our own behaviours and seeing how they might contribute to a culture where some bodies aren’t considered equally important. The normalisation of sexist humour, the lack of gender inclusivity in our usage of pronouns, and the systematic derision of marginalised gender identities through the use of cuss words — to name a few — are as much causes as they are products of the patriarchy. Sexual harassment does not stem from a mere delegitimization of consent; it is the result of a systematic delegitimization of certain bodies and identities. It cannot be tackled without identifying and weeding out from our social fabric these seemingly innocent but deeply internalised norms.
My disturbance with Ashoka, which is one of the reasons why my friends and I decided to initiate a feminist collective, does not arise merely from the existence of these problems. It is hardly a surprise that gender relations that have been established and reified over a gargantuan expanse of time are reproduced in a public space like the university campus. My discomfort lies in the conviction with which we disavow the existence of these relations, wrapped in the warm and cosy shawl of our privilege, pretending as if Ashoka doesn’t need feminism. We restrict our critical thinking to the classroom, refusing to point fingers at ourselves — to start saying “I’m sorry I made you feel uncomfortable” as opposed to “I’m sorry you felt uncomfortable” (spot the subtle difference). It is not the rampant sexism but the refusal to recognise and the mental lethargy to overcome it that is appalling. The unfortunate fact — and this is the part that nobody wants to acknowledge — is that we cause those CASH cases that we admonish from a distance. We may not be culpable, but we are most definitely responsible because we refuse to question and critique our everyday, normalised actions that feed into a structure which manifests most obviously in the form of sexual harassment.
I understand that this has become a common defense mechanism: make memes when life gives you gender. But it will not make the problem disappear, nor will it successfully bully into silence those determined to draw attention to it.
Love Is Not A Victory March
By Anonymous
“Azaadi, azaadi! Azaadi, azaadi!” The streets resounded with frenzied chants and slogans. A riot of colours unfolded before my eyes as flags were unfurled, rainbow badges donned and witty banners held up. As the dhols beat, so did people’s hearts, louder and stronger than ever before. The 10th Delhi Queer Pride on 12th November, 2017, was nothing short of a flamboyant display of unity and desire — a culmination of ten years worth of fighting against discrimination, anger, and inequality. And as my first ever Pride march, it couldn’t have been better.
I could talk at length about how heartening it was to see solidarity in numbers, to see friends and lovers strut through the streets, to see love so pure that it made my heart melt. While these definitely formed an integral part of my experience, this is not what this article is about. I walked from start to finish — sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly, sometimes lost in a sea of revellers. I saw mothers walk alongside their queer kids, proud as hell to be there. I saw a little boy in a rainbow t-shirt sitting on his father’s shoulders; then I saw his other father. I saw trans-people fulfil their “lipstick waale sapne”. And as the wisps of smoke from cigarettes held by ecstatic old-timers lingered in front of me, so did the maelstrom of emotions — happiness, wonder, and guilt — in my head.
Guilt. Why guilt? Because living a dual life is one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done. Being gay is hard. Especially if you can’t tell the people who mean the most to you. My social media was flooded with pictures and videos I took during the pride march. I found myself worrying about whether or not the news of it would reach my parents’ ears. A poster at the march said, “My mom thinks I’m studying but actually I’m here”, which sums up not only my experience at Pride but the past few months at college as well. Every month I’ve been attending queer events across the city, unknown to my parents. All I say is “Yes, I went to Delhi today. It was fun.” And I presume they nod approvingly at the other end.
Sometimes, I think about how they’d react if I told them. They aren’t homophobic, but what happens when your own child is not straight? Sometimes, I panic. At first, I wonder why it should be such a big deal. And then, I wonder: why I, of all people, had to be gay. This is followed by anger and self-hatred. To the casual observer I’m embroiled in deep thought, but internally I’m quaking, afraid of all that being gay brings with it. A part of me yearns to tell them, make it known that this isn’t “just a phase”. But our relationship is already rocky, and I don’t know when — or if at all — I’ll ever be comfortable enough to break this to them. I guess till then I’ll just keep going for events one after the other, returning with nothing but an even bigger sense of wrongdoing and unhappiness.
Over and above this, I think a lot. About many things. One of them being Pride. What really is Pride? A flamboyant expression for, and of, the LGBTQ+ community? A show of unity and solidarity? A fight for rights, and a fight against hatred and discrimination? Or something more? In August 2017, the Supreme Court declared sexual orientation to be a part of the right to privacy, an inalienable right possessed by every citizen of India. For the LGBTQ+ community, it brought relief, joy, and a sense of hope. Hope that in the future, things will continue to go their way; eventually, Section 377 will be repealed. But if this does happen, what will it mean for Pride? What will we fight for if there is nothing more to fight for? Does Pride retain any of its original significance anymore, or is it just a single day of celebration for people who don’t know where things are headed?
I think it’s all of these in equal measure. You can choose to agree or disagree, but one thing I got from my first ever Pride was an overwhelming sense of uncertainty. People were trying so hard, so hard, to show how happy they were, how grateful they felt for this day and all that it meant to them. “Pretentiousness” is the wrong word to use, but it was a parade; a whole host of people still hid behind their masks, wishing to remain unknown. And I admit I was one of them. I wasn’t particularly overjoyed by the whole experience. I didn’t feel like I belonged; the march didn’t fill me with hope and happiness, as it appeared to do to others.
The signs began long before I actually considered the possibility of being gay. Unlike my friends, I didn’t have a favourite actor or sportsman to drool over. I didn’t feel jealous of the girl who was dating the hot guy in the batch. I didn’t “feel” like a girl as much as I should. Realisation was slow, and then all at once. I am now more cognisant of this fact than ever before. I’ve acted on it a couple of times, and it rarely ends well. And it always, always tears me apart.
Maybe this will change. Maybe one day, I’ll finally have the courage to go up to my parents and say it out loud. Maybe one day, I’ll finally be able to value and accept myself for who I am, despite the imperfections. Maybe in a couple of years, I’ll be able to understand the true meaning of Pride and allow it to make me believe in change and hope. But before that, there’s a long walk to freedom. The freedom to be and the freedom to accept myself. And who knows how long that will take?
#OverseasConversations: Dil Se Discourse with Deena
‘Overseas Conversations’ is a series by the Edict wherein we invite students on Semester Abroad program to give the Ashoka community a peek in their various stimulating conversations across borders.
In Part 1 of the series, Aaina Singh writes to us from the University of Pennsylvania about her fascinating exchange with Professor Deena Skolnick Weisberg.
Aaina Singh, Batch of 2018
I sigh as I settle for this title to describe my little tete-a-tete with Deena Skolnick Weisberg, a Senior Fellow in the Department of Psychology at the University of Pennsylvania (who also happens to be my favourite professor here).
When the Edict team reached out to me and told me that they planned on doing a series wherein Ashokans studying abroad would chat with their professors and write about the conversations, I was super excited. I imagined sitting with professor Weisberg over dinner at a quaint little restaurant. The aromas of warm food wafting all around us while we laugh and talk about education at this Ivy League. “Dinner with Deena”, I had the perfect title in mind too.
Alas, just as soon as I painted that beautiful picture in my mind, I glanced at my wallet and realized that The Edict was a student-run newspaper and nobody would fund this dinner for us. Quickly abandoning this delightful daydream I fixed a time to chat with professor Weisberg, which happened to be right after my hour and a half long class on the “Psychology of Imagination” with Deena herself.
The weather was being unkind to us as professor Weisberg and I looked for a quiet place to sit on that chilly Wednesday afternoon. We settled for (and sunk straight into) a couple of soft sofas at the entrance of Claudia Cohen Hall, one of the oldest buildings at Penn. With its green serpentine stone walls and historic feel, Cohen Hall was probably the best substitute for my quaint restaurant.
As soon as we sat down, I, in my typical bubbly and enthusiastic manner started telling her about Ashoka and The Edict and why I had requested to chat with her. As I flailed my arms about and explained everything, Professor sat patiently, dressed in her characteristic formal yet chic fashion, topped with a delicate necklace. Once I was done animatedly explaining everything, we delved straight into a conversation about Professor Weisberg’s main research interest — the development of Imaginative Cognition.
Over the course of the semester she had completely changed my limited initial view that imagination was either child’s play or a leisure activity reserved for the artists of the world. Her classes had made me realise that imagination is involved in everything ranging from the “what-ifs” (counterfactual thought) that we constantly catch ourselves indulging in, to the strange paradox of experiencing real sadness (read: sobbing uncontrollably) from fictional stories or performances. It was precisely in order to share the realisation that imagination is actually an important aspect of planning, reasoning, and rational thought and is constantly at play in almost everything we do in our daily lives that I had wanted to interview her for this article.
Once we expressed our woes about how my initial view of imagination is what a large chunk of the world continues to believe, we went on to talk about how as a child Deena was an avid reader and wanted to be a writer. She told me that she started her education off with a question of how and why imagination works and it was this question that lead her to transition from a linguistics major to a computer programmer and finally into a developmental psychologist. When I probed her on how that journey came about she said it was simply because she was trying to “find the tools” to answer her question. This reinstated my faith that as a liberal arts student I too will one day find my path (since selling fries and flipping burgers at McDonalds in Delhi is not even an option anymore).
Once our conversation was in full swing I shared a little story with professor about how when I had told one of my friends I was doing a course on the psychology of imagination she had asked me if I planned on being high throughout it. After we laughed sheepishly at that I mustered up the courage to ask her what her opinion on the use of drugs to stimulate imagination and creativity was, and she responded saying she didn’t know much about that (it was still worth asking).
The last thing I asked Deena before I ran off to my next class was her opinion on education at the Ivy Leagues. Since she had earned her Ph.D. in Psychology from Yale University, received postdoctoral training at Rutgers University and Temple University, and was now teaching at UPenn, I figured she was the perfect candidate to give an insight on what sets an Ivy League apart from other universities. To this she responded that the Ivy Leagues are overrated and basically what sets them apart is that “they have a lot of money”. Of course she said this with the caveat that this was purely her own opinion.
As she said that I found myself dwelling on what I had felt about an Ivy League education over the past three months, particularly in comparison to Ashoka. I realised that Ashoka had equipped me with the skills that made it extremely easy for me to find my footing at Penn. At both universities, the classes were mostly discussion based, the grading system was the same, the nature and requirements of the assignments were pretty much identical, and the expectations from the professors were also similar.
The two things (in my opinion) that did set Penn apart from Ashoka, however, were its rich and long legacy, and the sheer grandeur of being such a massive institution brimming with diversity. But both these things take time to achieve and therefore my optimism about Ashoka’s future remains valid.
I smiled with those thoughts in my head and my conversation with professor Weisberg ended on a positive note as we spoke about the future of psychology and the need for more cross cultural research (which is a hint to the psychology department at Ashoka that we could create opportunities to conduct research in collaboration with Penn in the future).
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