The Independent Student Newspaper of Ashoka University

Fake Lies | Privilege

Rohan Parikh (Junior Correspondent at Free Press Pvt. Ltd.)

Fake Lies is a satire and humor series about Ashokan life and culture (or lack thereof).

With the academic year coming to an end and recruitment for the new batch underway, once again Hoshak University finds itself standing at a fork in the road. The question of diversity in the student population looms large, and unlike the solitary traveler, Hoshak’s love for privatized, untrodden roads will only spell trouble.

The Administration has always been averse to the idea of ‘mingling with the hordes’. It is as opposed to acknowledging the C-word as it is to things like fee-stabilization, appropriate resource allocation, and holidays for national Indian festivals.

“We cannot compromise on the quality of students coming in,” said an Administration official in response to questions about the lack of diversity among the student population. We asked him what he meant by ‘quality’, to which he shrugged and said, “You know what I mean.”

The Administration’s stance is simple. According to them, it takes an English-medium education, tuitions for every subject over and above schooling, a resume proclaiming a history of internships, conferences, and competitions attended and won, and twenty-one lakh rupees to make it to Hoshak. Objective merit, in other words, is what counts.

Moreover, research has concluded that meritorious people love coffee. Thus, Hoshak conducts outreach programs in places where prospective students can sip their beverage warm or cold, whipped or blended, iced or non-iced, with cake or without, while hearing about Hoshak’s incredible student body from various backgrounds that runs wide, but never deep.

Despite the Administration’s indifference, the problem of the lack of inclusivity is all-too-evident, and over the years Hoshakans have attempted to tackle the problem.

A second-year undergraduate student attempted to grapple with the problem. “Like, yeah, inclusivity is a real problem, man. You know, we gotta represent.” Upon asking him to elaborate, after some hesitation, he continued, “Yeah, like, this is not cool, you know. Like, inclusivity, and representation, and… yeah, it’s important. We need more oppressed people.”

Most times, however, Hoshakans are articulate about their views and do not hesitate to voice them. Yet, often they fail to realize the fundamental contradiction between what they say and who they are.

Almost every night one can find a group of students sitting at The Humble Capitalist (THC) having heated discussions about inequality and privilege while munching on pizzas and pancakes. The most outlandish claims are argued for, and like good philosophers, they do not feel the need for practical experience. Theory suffices, always. Moreover, we found that such conversations become more fruitful when Hoshakans are drunk. Thursday nights, therefore, are when all of society’s problems are solved, once and for all.

As the problem of privilege becomes increasingly popular, the student body is coming to realize the great social capital it carries. Inclusivity has become the new feminism; understood by a few, but harped upon by all.

Now, instead of flaunting their wealth, Hoshakans are turning away from such vulgar displays of affluence. The ‘cultural intellectual’ is the new fashion statement on campus. An increasing number of people now tend to speak in broken Hindi, grow out their hair, wear round spectacles and kurtas, and carry satchels. Of course, when a MacBook emerges from the satchel, the image is broken.

The Student Government, keen on wanting to remain relevant in the eyes of the student body unfailingly raises a deafening call for inclusivity every election cycle. However, it seems not to be very concerned about how ‘real’ inclusivity is actually brought about, so long as empty words and phrases like ‘inclusion’, ‘lack of inclusion’, ‘#inclusivity’, ‘inclusivity ministry’ etc. are thrown around.

It has been noticed that an increasing number of people are taking an interest in the neighboring village of Hansawarpur. Learning about the life of ‘those people’ has almost become an obsession.

Illustration by Ketaki Mathur, Class of 2020

“I’m like, so excited,” quipped a first-year undergraduate, “my friends and I are going to the village. I’ve packed granola bars, mosquito repellent, and glucose water. We’re gonna, like, go there and take pictures, collect samples, and record observations in our log books. People say there are, like, wild animals out there. I haven’t told my parents, though. I don’t want them to be worried.”

The student is keen on writing a first-person story about the hardships of poverty for her creative-writing course.

“Hoshakans have the roar of a lion and the memory of a goldfish,” said an MLS student, “We raise a racket, but soon enough forget the reason for doing so. But we continue ranting nonetheless.”

The Free Press has realized that the hypocrite wears a mask not only to fool others but also oneself.

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