On 10th January 49 BCE, leading a single legion, Julius Caesar crossed the Rubicon to march on Rome. In doing so, he committed an act that flouted Roman laws and sparked a civil war within the Republic. Upon crossing the Rubicon, Caesar uttered three words- Alea Iacta Est, ‘The Die is Cast’. He used these words to signify that they had crossed the point of no return. The march had begun, and he would settle for nothing lesser than a complete overhaul of Rome’s political machinery. He would, thus, either achieve victory or die trying.
For a whole week, the halls, fields, and corridors of NLIU Bhopal rang with cries demanding reformation of the administration. Over time, these cries slowly devolved into desperate pleas with seemingly a singular goal in mind- the resignation of the Director, Professor SS Singh.
This is, unfortunately, nothing new. For a long time, NLIU Bhopal has faced glaring issues stemming from the administration’s lack of cooperation with the students. In fact, NLIU Bhopal is just a bullet point in a long list of Indian colleges with absurd restrictions imposed on students. For months the students had been disgruntled with the appalling lack of transparency in the administration. Furthermore, there was a clear bias for certain students. The root cause of these problems is seen by students, to be the Director: Professor Singh, who has not only been accused of attempting to consolidate power through corruption but also blatant sexism, casteism, and moral policing- actions that would disqualify anyone from occupying a seat as powerful as that of a Director. In one case, the Director was reported to have called a student to his office and accused her of tainting the moral fabric of the institution, because of the clothes she wore. The breaking point of the students’ tolerance was reached, when the administration passed a fourth-year student who had failed the examination by ten marks. This compelled the student body to release a statement, which read:
“Multiple instances of rampant corruption, sexism, casteism, moral policing, and lack of financial transparency have made the student body lose confidence in the autocratic rule that has subsisted for the past ten years.”
This statement sparked off the protests at NLIU, which saw students demonstrate against preferential treatment given to some students, delay in publication of exam results, the faculty’s failure to complete the syllabus in some subjects, and the questionable re-evaluation policy. They are also pressing for an extension of the library timings, and the lifting of the hostel curfew.
Approximately fifty thousand students take the CLAT examination every year. A very small number of them are successful in obtaining admission into the best law colleges of the country. NLIU Bhopal has been consistently ranked in the top law colleges: a law college whose library closes at exactly 9 pm. This brings me to the greater picture I aim to project- the regrettable use of force, and restrictions by various colleges, institutes, and universities in our country on their own students. Some universities look unfavorably upon contact between male and female students, to the extent that they impose fines and suspend students for a hug. A few of them, employ dishonest tactics to cover up glaring issues in the administration. Others, including ones in the NCR, give show-cause notices to their students for protesting unfair hostel curfews.
Students at protest (Source: Author)
One cannot attempt to fathom what justifies the ideological oppression, by the powerful, in institutions around the country. Fortunately, we live in an age where students are unafraid to resist not just absolute authority, and the force it employs but also any form of repression that comes from the authority. Around the country, students have led protests, held fasts and openly flouted rules, to prove a point. These students will not accept minor consolations or small concessions. They demand an overhaul, of the system’s foundation and will not be satisfied with anything lesser than the same. Here at Ashoka, we seem to be in a bubble of sorts, distant from a lot of the ongoing conflict. Nonetheless, in view of our politically aware and proactive culture, I am confident that Ashoka will be in solidarity with the ongoing and erupting movements across the country.
Coming back to the words I started this article with, Alea Iacta Est. While the context and the intention are different in the cases of Caesar and students across India, the words ring true at the close of 2017. The die has been cast, ladies and gentlemen. The movement has begun, and there is no turning back. The only question remains- will you join it?
Protest by students at NLU Bhopal
Kanishk Gomes is an aspiring politician, currently struggling through the first year of Ashoka University. He writes when compelled by events both inside and outside the University, and is looking for an outlet for his creativity.
Professor Argo manages to pull off a “fun-face” and a “serious-face” multiple times in a class. In his first class, he started by acknowledging that his name was tough to pronounce, and gave us permission to call him Argo. Minutes later, we were told about the no-talk, no-phone rules in his class.
Prof. Bhattacharya completed his PhD from University of California, Irvine last year before coming to Ashoka. He was very sure of not wanting to work in the corporate sector, and wanted to be an academician. Like nearly every student here, Professor Argo was delighted to come to Ashoka. However, unlike almost everyone here, it because of the university’s location: Professor Argo’s dissertation is focused on monetary phenomena in the context of emerging market economies. His love for Economics is quite apparent when he explained coming to Ashoka such: “it’s a job market outcome which is given by a lot of variables!”
Apart from teaching, Professor is currently exploring his musical interests. He started playing the ukulele in January. “In California, I got introduced to the art of mixing music. Some of my friends were DJs or musicians and they introduced me to it. I am an amateur right now. I haven’t planned to publish my music yet but maybe I will when I feel I am good enough.” (Watch out for his music!)
Talking about his overall experience at Ashoka so far, he remarked how students are active learners with a very different approach than the usual. He says that every class is very challenging and engaging as students ask a lot of questions. “Even I get intimidated. I do not have answers to all the questions, but I try and enjoy the experience.”
When I asked him about any class-traditions he follows, he said, “No traditions as such but first thing on my mind is to finish the syllabus!” He occasionally cracks some situational jokes in the classes and enjoys doing so on a regular basis, making up his quota for class traditions.
Interviewing Professor Bhattacharya was a delight for me! After attending his classes and interviewing him, I realized how much effort Professor puts into making his classes more fun and comfortable for his students, even if it means stepping out of his comfort zone. Through this interview I understood how difficult being a professor can be. It gave me a greater appreciation for the profession.
A must-have at Ashoka: Better Shuttle schedule Comments on ICS Foods (Mess caterer): Simple things like Khichdi, Rajma-rice are great. Fancy stuff like Chinese, not the best. A professor he’d like to have been taught by: Professor Bhaskar Dutta
Arghya Bhattacharya aka Argo Bhattacharya is an Assistant Professor of Economics at Ashoka University. His academic interests include macroeconomics (markets with frictions), monetary economics, and international finance.
Picture clicked at the Atrium. We do not know who to source it to (if it has been clicked by you shoot us an email at edict@ashoka.edu.in)
Ashoka is “liberal,” and more progressive about most matters than other colleges across the country especially ones that offer on campus housing. There is an attitude of general permissiveness and a modern outlook. However, the rules (sometimes arbitrary) are stringent and daily life mired in useless bureaucracy that benefits no one. Every student on campus has to experience this (I guess that is one sure way that Ashoka prepares us for life outside the bubble) but as a member of the House I can assure you that this bureaucracy is more entrenched that you would like to believe. In a space where questioning inside the classroom is not only encouraged but also appreciated, outside the “safe” spaces of the classrooms, questioning the authorities is either met with sharp rebuke, at best, or no replies, at worst.
The last student government had worked very hard to do away with the unyielding arbitrary leave-book signing out system that required students to run around incessantly in search of (for the most part) uncooperative signatures. The debate was between ID card scanners and biometric machines. Despite my private protestations against the latter, I was largely content with what was a gigantic leap in de-surveilling student movement, or at least at the time. Although part-I of the old system: obtaining wardens’ signatures was done away with, the signing of registers at the gate was retained with no plausibly intelligent explanation. (I was told recently that the biometric registration is a three step process which allows room for errors and data getting lost.) At present there are nearing five registers at the gate; UG-girls Hostel I, Hostel II, UG boys, PG, etc. It could take you potentially five minutes to understand which compartment Ashoka wants you in. Ironically enough, there is constant conversation around improving interaction between the different student bodies but the compartmentalisation and different treatment do not help that. Not just that, every time I try to step outside the gate there are new rules enacted overnight — mind you, with no communication whatsoever to the students — and implemented harshly by the guards who refuse to reveal who gave them those orders. Despite the conclusion of a recent meeting with the Campus Life Minister and the Residence Life team that the resisters would be done away with, they are very much present and will continue to be for a long time.
As was recently noted by a fellow House member in a meeting, Ashoka has an easy solution to most problems. Alcohol abuse: ban campus parties. Quiet hours violation: do away with free access. It is almost as though what the students fought for was an honour being bestowed upon them. A loan with conditions and rules, almost as if being able to choose where I want to be with whom and what time is a privilege. This word is hot on campus at the moment, and where it is applicable I will admit to it but “free access” is not a privilege. Freedom of movement is a right, granted by the constitution of the country. Denying it is equivalent to posing as a bastion of the imported and annoyingly self-righteous Victorian models of behaviour and morality that we have come to loathe through our education. While I can understand that Ashoka is answerable to parents, I believe that if I can marry and vote at eighteen years, I can surely perform actions without needing the consent of my parents. I am not propagating or supporting rebellion, but merely making a case for why our education is a waste if we are going to be social justice warriors and not make an actual difference; even if that difference has to start from our parents. Clearly, we students need to learn how to fight our battles — actively, not through Facebook posts or tweets.
In my previous article I wrote about the paradox that our education brings into our life outside of Ashoka. But I was wrong. The paradox is right here, we live with it every second of our lives on campus. One step out of the classroom and you occupy a world designed for you by someone else, to forward someone else’s agenda through rules that remind you time and over again that school is over but not really.
If you’re an economics student at Ashoka, chances are that you’ve been taught by or heard a lot about Professor Anuradha Saha. An amazing statistics professor, she is a student-favourite: Every semester during course registration, her classes fill within minutes, maybe even seconds. But Professor Saha is way more than what we see in her classes. An interview with her revealed what an all-rounder she is.
Raised in Uttar Pradesh, and living in Delhi for the past 15 years, today she calls Ashoka home, though she is quick to make the distinction between Ashoka being home and Haryana not being home. Professor Saha has been teaching economics in Ashoka for two and a half years, but it might surprise some people to learn that she has a bachelor’s degree in physics! Luckily for us, she discovered that she enjoyed her economics courses more, specifically the analytical and predictive aspects of it which she has focused her studies on.
As a teacher, Professor Saha likes to see her students learn more and that her favourite class to teach has always been Statistics for Economics. She takes her class seriously and expects her students to do so as well, and on the first day of all her classes she says, “I scare the hell out of students”, a fact her students readily confirm. This tradition of hers gives her students the mindset they require to do well in her class. This, she says, helps her connect better with the students as she believes that they match her work style, which she describes such: “Whenever I work, I’m working hard, Whenever I party, I’m partying hard.” She feels the worst thing she has to do as a teacher is having to constantly motivate her students, but the greatest part is seeing her students grow, and her classes becoming a proper discussion between teacher and students.
After two and a half years in Ashoka, Professor Saha feels that there isn’t much she would like to change here, but she does feel that Ashoka should have some more places to go nearby outside, and that right now it feels quite “dead”. On the other hand, she also wishes for a quiet book shop on campus where she could read and enjoy books, which isn’t quite possible in the serious atmosphere of the library. She doesn’t really think much else can be improved on campus, whether it be the dorms or the mess. She really appreciates the fact that the mess serves fish; she said she couldn’t find it anywhere else in Haryana.
Professor Saha spends her free time cooking, playing games on her phone, listening to music, or reading. Her favourite dish is “anything with tomatoes.” She also likes to make Bengali sweets which she promises to eventually share with her students (fingers crossed!) On her phone, she is currently obsessed with the “Bubble Shooter” game. Her favourite song right now is “Budapest” by George Ezra. When it comes to reading, Professor Saha is primarily interested in economics-related books. As a college student, however, she loved mystery novels; her go-to authors being Jeffrey Archer and Sidney Sheldon. But her favourite protagonists were those in Barbara Taylor Bradford’s stories, as they were women who empowered themselves and escaped from desperate situations on their own, a kind of inspiration for her.
After all this, Professor also finds time to binge-watch TV shows; sometimes while grading her students’ papers. Her current favourite is Silicon Valley, and her all-time favourites include Friends and The Big Bang Theory. Her favourite characters are Chandler (Friends), because she relates to his character the most, and Sheldon (TBBT), but most definitely not in a relatable way, she says.
She hopes to go to Norway one day and see the Northern Lights, and visit Japan.
Her advice to her students entering the world is to “figure what you want to do in your life” and to also “figure out how to manage your time”.
I enjoyed interviewing Professor Saha. She was very willing to talk about herself, and was very relatable too! I already knew that she is extremely passionate about her subject from her classes, so this interview made it clear why she is a student-favourite: she is such a fun person to interact with!
Anuradha Saha is an Assistant Professor of Economics, and currently teaches ECO207: Statistics for Economics. Her academic interests include Macroeconomics, Economic Growth and Development.
“A white blank page, and a swelling rage.” –Mumford & Sons
(Translation: Rules and regulations do not make up universities)
Lady Pink, Banksy, Jean-Michel Basquiat, and Seen are just a handful of world famous graffiti artists. Most prominent of whom is Banksy, an artist or group of artists who operate anonymously. Their art is politically charged and often satirical, some of their recent works include graffitis on sweatshops in Bangladesh, mass surveillance by governments, inhuman treatment of migrants on the French border.
But this article is not about Banksy or any of the others mentioned, it’s an inquiry into the medium through which they express their sentiments. Graffitis hold much more value than just being aesthetically pleasing, they occupy public spaces and more often than not convey strong convictions.
And recently, this phenomenon has made its way to Ashoka: most of us choose to create art in our rooms but unfortunately it stays put. Yet, there has been a gradual movement of art on to the blank walls we cross each day and this must be acknowledged. The graffiti ranges from a spray-painted rendering of Edvard Munch’s The Scream in the new academic block to some profound and profane scribbles in a meeting room and the residences respectively.
This author once joked, “Ashoka is like a halfway house that people rest at during their commutes to and from Delhi”; although a gross exaggeration the statement only points to the dire need of a unique and consolidated student culture and this can be achieved through occupying Ashoka’s walls. A university can be created by constructing four buildings but its spirit is embodied by the innovation that goes on within and without its classrooms.
Additionally, graffiti itself can be quite cathartic, especially in a campus such as ours which is simmering with discussions surrounding gender politics, mental health, academics, and environmental concerns, the appearance of art on the bare walls can turn up the heat and allow people to engage with the issues at hand. Quite often stress seems loom to over the general student body, whose artistic exhalations can breathe life into the tabula rasa that is Ashoka. The Edvard Munch rendering on the ground floor of the new academic block is accompanied with the words “I’m alright”, this provides the perfect start to the culture of graffiti-ing since it seems to be the confession of an individual or a group but probably resonates with the entire student body since all of us have probably echoed those two words at some point or another during our time at Ashoka.
This medium allows people to communicate through art: a scribbled conversation that goes on back and forth under the garb of anonymity, evidence of which can be found in some of the politically charged graffiti in the dorms. Overnight, the words by the The Scream graffiti were followed up with a “Hang in there, friend”. For those of us having bad days, no one can truly ever assess the significance of a few kind words imprinted on the walls. The tacit understanding communicated through the works that have cropped up is a larger way of telling us to truly hang in there. When Banksy was asked why they do what they do, the response was, “I used to want to save the world but now I’m not sure I like it enough”. Their response embodies the exasperation which many of us feel towards the world around us, something the quotes plastered on the meeting room on the first floor convey: “I get by with a little help from my friends”, “No one is beyond redemption”,“Make friends with what you are”.
Lastly, it is these rants, doodles, and elaborate sketches which will immortalise and commit to posterity the ideas of these first few generations of Ashokans. And perhaps, later in the future one can observe the mood of the art to gauge the multitude of personalities, thoughts, and beliefs that once walked these halls.
(Or just maybe the walls will be painted over again, but then you see: that is probably not the point of it).
Manjari Sahay, a student in the Ashoka Scholar Program, sent out a simple one-question survey to the student body on 30th October. With the promise of anonymity, she implored women on campus to reply to the following question: “Are you afraid to mention/speak up about gender-related concerns on the Ashoka Undergraduates Facebook group or on campus at large?”. Within a week, she released the results of the survey, which showed that 36.8% of the respondents did feel afraid to speak up about gender-related concerns. Third-year undergraduate Neha Mehrotra sat down with her to ask her about the survey, and about her opinions of gender politics at Ashoka University at large.
Please find below the transcript of the entire interview. Any edits made were only for clarity’s sake.
Neha: What motivated you to send out the survey that you did?
Manjari: Well, I guess one answer to this question would be that it was my experience of gender at Ashoka and in the world. But I suppose people like finding a more immediate point [because of] which I decided to do this. I guess the push for me was the post that Arush [Pande, Class of 2019] put on the Facebook group, about the whole egg-throwing incident and how his claim was that it was an act that reeks of male-entitlement and typically something that men do.
But, anyway, I don’t want to get into the post as much as what concerned me were the responses to that post. And I think what I found really disturbing was that firstly, most of the people commenting on that post were men. Secondly, they seemed to have no problem with claiming what are gendered and non-gendered acts for women. Thirdly, they thought it was okay to claim what the larger issues of gender are for women. And, honestly, I am not somebody who has any problem with boys kind of giving their two cents, but what disturbed me was the skewed ratio of the men and women commenting or voicing their opinion on the subject. I just couldn’t understand why no women would want to say anything. Or why they wouldn’t want to kind of “own their own experiences” — for the lack of a better phrase.
But on some level, I mean, I had an inkling which was confirmed when I had conversations with girls the next day, and a lot of them would kind of come up to me and just be like, “You know, we completely agreed with what you were saying or what Arush was saying. But we’re sorry, we couldn’t voice our support vocally.” Or they would send him private messages being like, “We’re in complete agreement, but we’re sorry [we can’t say anything publicly].” So I wondered how many women felt like they needed to keep checking themselves and what they say, and how many of them experience this inability to voice their views publicly. Especially on a platform like Facebook but also, more generally, on campus on issues of gender, given the kind of an environment that exists or is known to exist when somebody does bring this issue up. So, I think that was what motivated me to send out the survey. I really just wanted to get a sense of how big of a problem this may or may not be, or if it’s a problem at all.
Neha: When you got the results back, where you surprised [by] what you saw? What did you expect?
Manjari: Yes and no. I was not surprised that these had been the experiences of women because, of course, I’ve had some of those experiences myself, and I have had in-person conversations with girls. But what did surprise me was the anger in those comments and just how much they had, kind of, kept to themselves so much so that it had come to the surface in this particular way. So, I was surprised at not the fact that they had had the experiences that they had stated but the fact that a) they had felt that the only way that [this was the only way] they could voice it, and [b)] that when they did chose to voice it in this anonymous way, there [would be] so much anger in their voices.
Credit: Manjari Sahay
Neha: The response rate — how many responses did you get?
Manjari: I think there were 133 responses, which is alarming given that, I think, if we have about nine hundred to a thousand students of both undergraduate students and [Ashoka Scholar Program] students, then at least five hundred of them should be women, if we assume half-and-half, even though there are more women [in these programs] than there are men. But the response rate was only about, say, 133, and in that way it’s not necessarily a representative survey. But, I think, the reason for that could’ve very easily just been the fact that, you know, whether or not women have this anonymous platform, often there are so many forces acting on them that stop them even before they get to responding to the survey. For example, if I’m a girl and I’m just sitting at a dining table, and I hear one of my male friends being like, “Oh, have you heard of the survey sent out by this feminazi?” Then, of course, I’m instantly going to be like, “Okay, maybe if I try to respond to that survey, maybe my friends won’t think I’m so cool.”
A display in the Mess Hall of all the comments received in Sahay’s Form | Photo Credit: Devashree Somani
Neha: It’s just like a slow conditioning.
Manjari: Yeah. I mean, obviously, there’s a kind of want for social-sexual acceptance, but also a sense of apathy that I think really does exist at Ashoka, which is that, “the survey doesn’t matter; my response doesn’t matter. The problem is so great that nothing I do matters.” I feel like that’s a problem I’ve noticed, especially amongst senior girls, this total feeling of apathy, where they’re just like, “We don’t know what can be done anymore”. And, among junior girls it’s a lot of fear, that will eventually turn into apathy. And I think that has something to do with the response rate.
Neha: So, did you go through the responses alone, or did you do it with someone? Because [they] must’ve been really draining to go through.
Manjari: Yeah… I felt like it was something that I had to do alone, mostly to preserve the anonymity of the respondents. I didn’t want anybody who was reading it with me to know who had given what response. I feel like if they have chosen to respond, they’re placing their trust in me, and not me and my closest friends. So I did feel that sense of responsibility where I was like, “Okay, I need to do this by myself.” But, of course, it was a deeply emotional experience for me because there’s a way in which you know these things exist, but when you read them you realise how palatable they are and how real these experiences are. Of course, I did have to seek out my friends after doing the reading, and be like “I can’t believe the world is this way,” even though, of course, the world is this way. And I needed that emotional support afterwards. But during the process, I just thought that it was a better idea to do it by myself.
Neha: So, since the four years that you’ve been at Ashoka, have you noticed a sort of change in the gender politics that you’ve seen on campus?
Manjari: I think it’s playing out on a much larger scale now, given that there are more students. And even though there are more girls on campus, I think a cultural problem — which has always existed; I’m not going to say it’s the new batches that brought it with them. It’s, say, girls being talked over in classes or the general disregard for their occupation of public space versus your own. These problems, I think, have always kind of been there but they’ve obviously grown as the size of this place has grown.
Then what becomes shocking, given that all this time has passed and there are so many more students now, is that there is still a total lack of a student-led response to things like this. It’s the fact that we need faculty members to tell us that we need to have a town hall on something in order for us to discuss it. That nobody feels like this is a problem, or that the only time they talk about it is to say that, “Bro, stop making a big issue out of this.” So I think that the problem has become more glaring, for me personally, and it has become more disappointing, but I don’t think the problem itself has changed fundamentally.
Neha: What do you think qualify as gendered acts versus non-gendered acts?
Manjari: [laughs] Wow, I’m going to get so much shit for this, but — so I guess I just come from the school of thought, and my education leads me to believe, that we exist in a political world, which is to say that we exist in a world that is not devoid of power dynamics. Power plays out in a lot of different ways, often mediated by social structures of gender, caste, class, and so on and so forth. And so I think when two people of different or same genders are together, there exists a power dynamic between them which can be gendered. So I feel like there is a potential for almost all acts, given that we all have genders, unless we choose to identify otherwise — although that is also a political move — that all of these have the potential to be gendered. So I will not concede that such a thing as a non-gendered act exists, because we don’t exist in a vacuum. To say that there is such a thing as a non-gendered act, I think, is an extremely privileged claim to make because then you haven’t really had to feel the weight of your gender or the weight of another person’s gender; it’s just been a bit of a non-consideration for you, and the fact that you haven’t had to consider of it says something.
Neha: What are some of the ways in which you think women’s voices are being policed on campus, and, to some extent, are the women doing it to themselves? What is it primarily that seems to be policing women’s voices on campus?
Manjari: I mean, as step one, I don’t think campus is devoid of the the world that it exists in. And I know we like to assert that Ashoka is a bubble, but this is one of the ways in which it is not a bubble — which is to say that the gender dynamics that you see outside, you’ll find here as well. The problem is not outside Ashoka, the problem is not in Assawarpur, the problem is here, too. There is a way in which we exist in a larger ecosystem. And so problems of gender, which pertain to, say, women not feeling like they can speak publicly as much, or low women representation, etc. you find the world over and of course you find here as well.
But I feel like there haven’t been enough remedial measures to help women overcome things like that, because there is a way in which we have been conditioned our whole lives to stay silent, to listen, to obey. And, while there is a way in which our classroom education pushes us against that, there is only so far it can take us if there isn’t something outside the classroom that is helping us as well. And the problem then exists at the larger level of student discourse; so whether it’s in smaller actions like how we treat our women friends, how we talk about girls, locker room talk — whatever that is supposed to be — or the kind of space we let them occupy, how dismissive we are of their concerns we they do voice them without realizing that, you know what, that’s their lived experience. These are all ways in which they are policed, and of course we come to internalize those ways, because how could we not? You don’t even want to let yourself get that far where someone else has to police you. You say, “Okay, so, in order to make myself more palatable for everybody involved, let me just police myself.” And that’s the easiest way to exist way in the world. But that’s it then, you’re just existing.
Neha: So, is there something about the structures at Ashoka, take the political parties for example — very scant female representation. Why is that? Because these are… I mean, is there something about the structures of these bodies that limits their participation? Or is it just a general thing?
Manjari: I think political parties, some of them at least, I don’t know if I can speak for all. You know what, I’m not going to speak for all. Some of them have been proactive in recruiting women and giving them an equal platform. I know that the political party that I am a part of has really given me space where I can voice my opinion.
But there exists a problem, obviously, at the level of these women being taken seriously by the people who are voting for them. I’ve heard of instances where when a girl is standing for elections, for example, her sex life becomes the point at which you’re like, “Okay, you know, this doesn’t make her a great candidate. How good a political representative could she possibly be, given the how much sex she’s having?” That’s never a question that arises with a boy. I mean, I really hope that the male candidates from these parties are also having a lot of sex, but it’s not something that anybody considers, right?
And so, I think, the problem lies at the level of perception. I think political parties have tried, historically speaking. But these women are just not getting voted in. Even if most of our lists are women, people will systematically overlook the women on the lists and will vote for the men. Because men are seen as the thinkers, the occupiers of public space. And it’s their opinions that are valued in a certain way. When women representatives do actually come into the house, there are like four, every year. They’re either, you know, fetishized — which is to say that this one really enigmatic female leader — and sexualized in this very odd way. Or they’re seen as these kind of stuck-up prudes that not nobody really wants to listen to. They invite an eyeroll, like, every single time. So, at every step of political representation women are fighting some battle or the other, in order to be taken seriously, and that’s pretty unfair.
Interviewer: Okay. Thank you so much for your time.
“Say, What?” is a contemporary dance piece choreographed by Avantika Bahl, and performed by Vishal Sarvaiya and the choreographer herself. The duo was invited by the Centre for Performing Arts and the Office of Student Life to perform the piece at Ashoka University on the 7th of November.
Credit: Office of Student Life, Ashoka University
“Say, What?” focused on the interaction between two people who slipped in and out of the use of codified language. The piece was performed in silence — only interjected by the sounds of the performers’ feet, a dancer’s inadvertent coughing, and the hum of the AC in the MPH. The piece began with the use of sign language — small movements that one wouldn’t usually consider dance. The performance area was surrounded by white masking on three sides. Therefore, even when the gestures of the stationary dancers were minute, the shadows cast on the background enhanced their intensity, and helped occupy the entire space.
The size of their movements eventually increased, leading them to use not only their whole bodies, but also all the available space. The use of repetitive movements gradually built up the pace and intensity of the piece, with Avantika and Vishal falling into synchronous movements, only to return to their individual steps. The interaction between the dancers varied constantly in terms of eye contact, physical contact and weight sharing. It included what appeared to be a game of goldspot, and also one section where only their palms (the dancers having thrown their legs behind their heads) conversed with one another.
Avantika Bahl, having trained at and worked with The Danceworx in Delhi for 7 years, went to the London Contemporary Dance School to train further. The inspiration for this piece came to Avantika in London, she said in an interview after her performance, where she met and soon befriended a hearing-impaired dancer. Her relationship with them pushed her to pursue an interest she had had for a while — to learn sign language. On noticing the similarities between sign language and dance, she asked her sign language teacher to put her in touch with a deaf dancer. This was how she met Vishal in Mumbai, with whom she collaborated to start creating this piece in April 2016.
There is a deaf world and a hearing world, says Vishal. He describes “Say, What?” as an attempt to create a third world, one which exists outside either of the first two. Vishal, who first started dancing at his deaf school in Mumbai at the age of six, eventually went on to dance with renowned Indian choreographer Shiamak Davar. Initially, he simply followed the body movements of others, until he eventually understood what rhythm was — something that was crucial for him to get to where he is today as a dancer.
Avantika’s desire to work with someone who had a different relationship with sound, and Vishal’s internal rhythm, made them a solid team. Vishal and Avantika also talked about the bodily awareness they developed which helped them to detect the other’s presence, not just in front of them but also on their sides and behind them. This made such a piece, one without music, counts or a definite rhythm, possible.
Avantika’s choreography touched on questions of language and communication — be it sign language, dance or theatrical movements. It highlighted the significance of sound in our lives, but also the ability to do without it. “Say, What?” opened up a world of meaning-making, while reinterpreting and demystifying gesture and movement used in the process of conversation. It was at once a humbling and an enlightening experience to watch them communicate on a personal, yet universal level.
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