This cover picture is from the NewStatesman. 

This platform recently published an article detailing the results of a survey that intended to bring to light a variety of mental health concerns that were plaguing the student body amidst the current pandemic crisis. The ostensible agenda of this survey (and the article) was to demonstrate to the magazine’s readers the fact that students’ mental health had, in fact, been adversely affected by the crisis and, while not explicit, that the college administration had somewhat failed in addressing the student body’s needs with respect to the crisis. To the writers’ credit, they focused on a general need for greater mental health infrastructure rather than pinpointing any particular administrative shortcomings. However, this article perhaps represented the culmination of the widespread “grievance-airing” (to put it politely) that the student body has been indulging in since the start of the lockdown.

The (Misplaced) Idea of India

This first began with batch groups grumbling that conducting Zoom classes would be inequitable to the student body, due to disparities in access to stable internet connectivity. (Un)surprisingly enough, this woe-is-me attitude seemed to emanate not from those members of the community that were actually facing difficulties, but from the (usually left-liberal) elites of each batch. These well-meaning individuals took it upon themselves to champion the cause of their cohorts whom they assumed would be grateful to them for speaking out against this obvious injustice being meted out to the lesser, hinterland-dwelling simpletons. In their eagerness to virtue signal and score points in the Woke Olympics, these elites forgot to do one crucial thing – take the time out to talk to their peers, if not one-on-one, at least on the batch group, and figure out how this apparent “lack of internet access” was impacting people. And therein lies the hamartia of Law School’s elite.

If they had, they would have discovered that middle India, contrary to elitist conceptions (which seem to be an essentialist rehash of Orientalist constructions), is not a vast jungle teeming with tigers and elephants, where there is no electricity, water, or network connectivity. Most of our cohorts, author included, are not located in such far-flung locales so as to lack modern infrastructure altogether. Financial access to this infrastructure is surely limited, but this roadblock was quickly lifted by the administration when they offered to reimburse students for data packs. Despite this, we see that the experiences of the marginalised (who are invariably lower caste and class) are time and again co-opted by the elite in order to further their own agenda.

Confronting Privilege

Perceived queer, Dalit, and marginalised experiences appear to be routinely used as talking points in lengthy emails sent out to the administration detailing their apparent apathy towards students, while actual consultation and discussion leaves much to be desired. Here again, well-meaning elites dominate the discussion both on Facebook, on batch groups, and in student representative community space. Passing the mic seems to be something entirely alien to these elite tastemakers, who confidently pronounce to their batchmates what new intersectional issue they should be outraged about today.

The most vocal complainants about home confinement aren’t those students who are from Chitrakoot or Asarganj, whose families have overcome generations of socio-economic barriers to enable them to go to college, but the ones who have cushy, air-conditioned 4BHK homes in Malleshwaram, Nariman Point, or Green Park (sometimes all three!). These individuals write lengthy emails to the administration and to their batches, detailing the intense mental pressure they are under due to having to serve their grandmother 3 meals a day, where their maid would do it before. Woe is me. Of course, we are all cognizant of the different ways in which an individuals’ mental health can be affected, but at least consider not using marginalised communities’ experiences to guilt-trip the administration. Confront your own struggles and ask for leniency on that basis – don’t piggyback off on ours.

It is this tone-deafness of the elite that needs to change. We all know someone with those classic manifestations of privilege – upper caste (and invariably class), generations of parents have been educated at the best schools money can buy, doesn’t need to have a monthly budget, never eats in the mess (it’s just soooo oily, ugh!), goes clubbing only twice a month, but most importantly, never lets go of a chance to talk about how poor they are because they still use *gasp* wired earphones, or the fact that it is soooo unfair that the Aditya Birla Scholarship is only open to the top 20 ranks (“seriously, they should at least allow all us general students to apply ya”), or how they’re probably going to have to “settle” for Singapore for their exchange next year instead of Europe because they have family there.

Enough is enough.

If you’re going to fight for social justice, then begin by confronting the immense privilege you come from, rather than pretending like your experiences are the same as those of your batchmates.

Always the Victim, never an Agent: On Academic Rigour in Trim III

The college’s new Vice Chancellor has been reduced to a caricature by community meme pages and batch discussions – haha, aCaDeMiC rIgOuR, am I right? Public fora seem to be abuzz with outrage – how dare he ask us to fire on all cylinders amidst this pandemic? How dare he think of us as scamsters when we fought tooth and nail to get electives? Fair enough.

It’s also fair to scoff at this outrage when you see those same people posting their reviews of a new Netflix show every other day up until last-last day, when the tone of their social media shifts to “haha, I’m such a baller. I’m doing my projects at the last minute but can’t help but squeeze in a 3-hour binge sesh of The Office. LOL DAE?” And of course, that other breed of I’m-too-cool-for-this-class-and-any-other-class, who openly admit to logging into Zoom in the mornings and promptly going back to sleep. I digress – I’m not here to point fingers at individuals.

The point here is that there is a definite culture of academic apathy amongst Law School students – from the entitled attitude towards extensions, to the dismissal of certain teachers as ‘scams’, to the pride taken in writing projects at the last minute and in dodging plagiarism software. Taking umbrage at these comments and defending oneself through social media diatribes will not make the problem go away. The fact that so many scoffed at the Vice Chancellor’s comment that focusing on academics is a viable way to manage one’s external anxieties goes to show the utter lack of value that our community places on structured academic learning. And no, Isha (the Indian elite version of Karen), your Human Rights professor expecting students to read for class is not ironic. Maintaining a routine and a semblance of normalcy is often calming to individuals prone to anxiety (and who are, more often than not, queer/Dalit folx).

While the value that one places on academics is entirely a personal decision, the answer cannot be to structurally do away with rigour altogether. There will always be reasons to deviate from academic expectations – some argue that this pandemic can be existentially terrifying, causing one to procrastinate. After this, we’ve still got to deal with climate change, with institutional casteism, with the unsustainable inequalities of global capitalism. Reducing the workload – which, if we’re all being honest, is not unmanageable to begin with – is not the answer. Rather, calls for strengthening of mental infrastructure and for the creation of community spaces that value and preserve mental health are the way forward.

Aditya Rawat’s group initiative is a great start. While the issues with online group therapy sessions were detailed in the survey article, it is also important to create spaces by and for marginalised communities as well. Elites cannot be a part of this process – not because they don’t have the right intentions, but simply due to the fact that a vast majority of the Law School community does not feel connected to these urban elites. We do not feel comfortable airing our thoughts and our grievances within that bubble, where an opinion that does not fit in neatly within their world-view is immediately placed under intense scrutiny, and the person holding that opinion castigated. Many of us have generations of patriarchal, caste-dominated, anti-poor, and anti-minority ways of thinking inculcated in us. It takes time to undo these ways of thinking – but elite impositions of right and wrong will not help. Give the marginalised a space to articulate her thoughts. Listen to what she has to say.

Pass the Mic – and Leave the Room

On a more sober note, we’ve been quick to co-opt the institutional murder of a class X Dalit girl (apparently due to a lack of resources and access to online classes) for our own agenda against the Vice Chancellor, implicitly making the statement that many of our own cohorts are in the same situation and being denied empathy by the institution. To this, again, we need ask ourselves the question – are we all really in the same situation as that girl was in?

We see the usual suspects scrambling to think of potential catastrophes that could befall a student during the exam and are quick to vilify the administration for a perceived lack of empathy towards the same. Yet, somehow, the wider community is yet to hear of a single incident of actual laptop / network failure. True, this exam set-up required us all to proceed with caution and not leave submission to the last minute, given the tendency of laptops to start hanging exactly when you need them for time-sensitive tasks. However, it appears that the students who were running from pillar to post concerned about this situation are, unsurprisingly, not those who are actually getting through Law School on a scholarship-funded laptop, but those with the latest MacBook (pardon the crude simplification).

The Law School community, to me, has failed in its social justice goal when we have this repeated romanticizing of the lesser-privileged as nothing more than a victim, dealt an unfair hand by the administration. The fact is that even now, public discourse is dominated by the privileged rather than there being a real platform for the lesser privileged to discuss their situations and grievances.

What do the disabled have to say about this new model of learning and evaluation? How is our compatriot in Kashmir coping – has the admin been responsive? What do the people besieged by Cyclone Amphan need? While it is easy to draw conjecture (see a certain student’s widely shared SBA Noticeboard post) and assume the worst of their situations, the only real way for a community to grow is by listening, not assuming.

A previous article here attempted to draw attention to this, but was sadly dismissed by some as being woke posturing by other elites. Perhaps it is telling that we see discourse that threatens to be more progressive than status quo as merely posturing while anything less so is dismissed as regressive and not even worth a conversation. A lifetime of living (and arguing) online seems to have hardened us all – it seems the only thing that brings us progressives joy is to smugly comment on how someone else’s progressiveness lacks nuance (present company included).

It’s time, then, to not just to pass the mic and give the sub-altern a platform from which she can actually speak, but also to stop seeing the sub-altern as nothing more than a victim of the administration. Robbing her of her agency to express her actual thoughts and feelings about administrative decisions and their impact on her mental health will reduce her to a talking point, an agenda to be championed in the pursuit of Woke Olympic points, but will never actually empower her or make her feel heard and seen by the community. Adding a few progressive buzzwords to your Twitter bio doesn’t make you a champion – and neither does posting smug commentary about how deluded those other champagne socialists are. You are doing nothing to better the lives of the people in your community, so don’t delude yourself into thinking you are. Social media activism is a minuscule echo chamber – instead, let your praxis show how you care about the marginalised.

Give us the space to articulate our thoughts. Let us decide how administrative decisions affect us. Let us decide whether this “academic rigour” is too much for us. In short, let us exist. Not as talking points, not as agendas, but as real, living people with agency.

Once upon a time, long long ago, more than 500 of us studied an intensive course on a residential campus ⁠— in the midst of lush greenery and Nagarbhavi’s growing social scene, surrounded by the smell of strong Chetta coffee, constant banter, omnipresent PDA and several snakes. And then COVID-19 happened. The End.

Just kidding! Soon after the declaration of COVID-19 as a pandemic by the WHO, the Karnataka government issued orders on 13 March 2020 for the closure of universities. Over the weekend most of us left for home, with a heavy heart, but also with hopes of returning within this trimester (confidently packing a grand total of 5 t-shirts ). The administration promptly and fairly efficiently resumed classes on 18 March 2020. Having largely stuck to the academic calendar and with no disruption to classes, we’re almost at the end of this trimester. Our projects have been submitted, the last set of vivas is scheduled for the next weekend, and exams are just around the corner (albeit with the guidelines having shocked us all). All is good.

H a h a h a

All is not good.

COVID-19 has been extremely dangerous, not only in terms of its physical health risks and mortality rate, but also because it has battered the economy and induced, possibly, the worst mental health crisis ever on a global level.^[1] Many countries do not have adequate mental health infrastructure and even if they do, it is not accessible to all sections of the population. Around 300 deaths in the lockdown period in India were non-COVID-19 deaths, related to deteriorating mental health.^[2] And this was just the figure around the beginning of May. One can only speculate how much worse this is going to get, propelled by rising unemployment, an increase in health issues, recession, anxiety about future prospects, etc.

‘No man is an island.’ Apparently, neither is Law School.

Several colleges have taken many pro-active steps to support students coping with academic pressure as well as the other problems they might have at home, and also to remedy inequitable access to online resources. At NLS, various stakeholders have been at loggerheads on how to approach online learning and adapt schedules and rules to these trying times.

To get a more “objective” insight into how all of us at NLS are doing, as well as for all those living in denial/under the assumption that students exist to lie/scam/cheat by feigning problems, Quirk sent out this survey to the student body on 10 May 2020. We received 130 responses to our survey, which amounts to roughly 25% of the student body. These responses were fairly evenly distributed across all batches.

76% of the respondents said that their work and academics were being affected due to several COVID-19 lockdown related reasons. This is an overwhelmingly large fraction, and it is quite alarming that students have to continue to push through this trimester – almost as if things were as usual – knowing that their academic performance is going to take a hit one way or the other. As one respondent put it, “cognitive skills have tanked like the economy”. Students’ university work has been adversely affected by (i) lack of empathy from college, (ii) worrying about people they know, (iii) financial trouble, (iv) social media, connectivity and network issues, and (v) stress on account of staying at/being unable to stay at home.

These issues have also manifested in many other ways – such as, procrastination, change in sleep schedules, and becoming more closed off.

Procrastination, often seen as a sign of laziness, can signal a drop in the productivity of students because of them being mentally unable to push themselves to work. 71.8% of respondents felt that they were procrastinating more than usual. We’re not always the most efficient cogs of a machine even when in college (which Chetta and Netflix can confirm), but efficiency levels have significantly worsened now, adding to guilt and worries regarding academic performance. There have also been very ableist messages going around during the pandemic, urging people to be banana-bread-baking-new-language-learning-webinar-viewing-high-functioning individuals, which only induces additional pressures. However, there are several factors which could account for people experiencing a drop in productivity, and leading to procrastination.

Some unique reasons cited by respondents included the summer bringing in a lot of seasonal work in rural areas, suffering from a chronic illness, and feeling like “nothing matters anymore so what’s the point of doing anything”. One respondent also said, “I feel very very discharged – I’m not someone who talks to people much, but I derive a lot of energy and strength from just sitting with people, even if I’m not actively participating.”

The mental strain has also contributed to changing sleep cycles, with 78% experiencing some degree of change and 10% of respondents saying they now have no regular sleep cycle at all.

Adapting to Atmanirbhar: The Newest Trend on the Block

80% of the respondents are not currently seeing a mental health professional, but about 25% of them said that might consider seeing one in the near future. Unfortunately, of the 20% who were seeing a mental health professional, a large majority (85%) are no longer able to do so under lockdown. While the college counsellors remain available remotely (albeit, in one case, taking weeks to respond to a student’s mail), there clearly remains a barrier to access which is disappointing, especially given the additional mental toll under lockdown.

We’ve also had peer group mental health sessions, organised by Aditya Rawat (Batch of 2022). While he’s had this idea for a while, the lockdown gave him the push to hold the first session on 28 April. He has moderated a few sessions of the ‘Check-in Circle’, open to all students, where students are free to share how they’re doing or just lend an ear and some support for others. Although only 20% of the respondents had attended the Check-In Circle, almost all of them (92%) had a positive or neutral experience.

When we asked Rawat what he thinks of the sessions and whether they take a toll on his mental health, he said that while it could be exhausting at times, it helped that “the participants were also active listeners, who hear out whatever it is I want to share. Also, all those who have joined us for these sessions so far, have been very supportive and understanding which helps ease whatever pressure there is supposed to be on me as the moderator” and that he looks forward to seeing more of us join the next session!

The Faculty Mentorship Sessions (which started this month and of which, only one session has been conducted so far) saw a slightly higher rate of attendance (29%), with 68% having a positive or neutral experience.

Several factors influence the rate of attendance: some students had not been allotted a Faculty Mentor or their Faculty Mentor had not conducted a session at the time of the survey, and some students may have chosen to attend/not attend based on which Faculty Member was assigned to be their mentor. The feedback was fairly diverse ⁠— some students didn’t feel comfortable sharing their problems with their Faculty Mentor, while some students felt like their session was well conducted by the Faculty Mentor. Most agreed that the discussions revolved around academic pressures, especially the forthcoming exams.

So, umm, what was the point of all this?

Well, primarily to check up on everyone and remind everyone to take care of their mental health in these tough times! We also wanted to collect tangible objective data to chronicle the effect of the lockdown and emphasize the need for better mental health infrastructure (and some sympathy for starters!).

From the rant column provided at the end of the survey, we came across at least one very grave mental health issue, which the person attributed to the apathy they faced from the university administration. On the other hand, one person mentioned that they were coping well, had higher productivity, and felt that the survey form was too negative (who are you and what are your ways?!).

Before you conclude that this survey was just a sob fest, we also asked how much people missed their friends and Law School, on a scale of 1-5. While over half the respondents seemed to miss both, almost one-fifth said they don’t miss Law School at all! But the general feeling towards this was perhaps summed up best by a respondent who asked, “Is there even any difference between these two questions?”

So, until we meet next, take care of your mental health, remember you’re not alone, and know that Law School misses you back!

Godspeed,

Jwalika and Smriti

PS: Quirk’s always here in case you want to share your rant!

Update: We’re happy to mention that the administration has introduced some measures to help improve the mental health infrastructure in college. These include shifting counselling sessions to Zoom for our online trimester, providing free access to self-help tools via the InnerHour app as well as TalkCampus – an online portal for connecting with college students from across the world. A Student Welfare Officer has also been appointed, to discuss any issues or concerns that students have individually. We hope these go a long way in addressing the evident mental health concerns we’d highlighted earlier!

[1] ‘Major Mental Health Crisis Looming From Coronavirus Pandemic: UN’ (NDTV.com) <https://www.ndtv.com/world-news/coronavirus-un-secretary-general-antonio-guterres-says-major-mental-health-crisis-looming-from-coronavirus-pandemic-2228460> accessed 23 May 2020.

[2] ‘Suicide Leading Cause for over 300 Lockdown Deaths in India, Says Study’ The Economic Times (5 May 2020) <https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/news/politics-and-nation/suicide-leading-cause-for-over-300-lockdown-deaths-in-india-says-study/articleshow/75519279.cms?from=mdr> accessed 23 May 2020.

This piece has been written by Pallavi Khatri (Batch of 2022).

I admit the Black Mirror episode ‘Nosedive’ articulated what I had failed to do for a long time now. Hence, I stole the title.

Before assuming that this is going to be another sad rant coming from a worn-out Law Schoolite, just hear me out. I believe positive manners towards others are a good thing. Whatever our parents taught us, beginning from being polite, respectful, kind and empathetic to others, is all correct. We can only expect to be treated the way we treat others. Hence, be nice to others and they will be good to you. Listen to others and your opinion shall be heard. Help others and they will help you. Sounds good till now, right? Well, yeah, because it is all true.

But hey, like the way Zomato Gold scammed us because none of us read the T&C, we never read them here either. We missed the fine print – the print that was different from the rest of the message. Unlike how we should be towards others, it mentioned caveats that indicated how we should be towards ourselves.

And now our mental health is in shambles.

From the moment we wake up in the morning till we hit the hay late at night, we are in constant effort to take the right decision on the most minor things. Consider the dilemma of deciding whether or not to acknowledge a senior who crossed you while going to class? Well, if I do acknowledge, then to what degree? Do I wave and say Hi, do I raise eyebrows, do I say ‘Sup’ and appear cool, do I give that awkward smile? Will this person be offended if I did not meet her standards of greeting? Will I need this individual’s help in the future? Will everyone else around me see how I ignored her? Will my wearing headphones piss people off? Will the earth collapse and the stars conspire to…? You get the gist.

Question after question on the most trivial things causes the cogs and wheels in our brains to work overtime until they overheat like the Samsung Note 7 and then burst into flames… or tears… or anger.

One might argue here that it’s necessary to keep this up, to monitor your every action, restrain your every human emotion to keep up that aura of happiness and niceness. Because, indeed, the world works like a Yelp for people where if you are downvoted, you’re fucked.

But I disagree. It doesn’t.

First, because people know. If you are able to understand the intentions behind a person’s manner towards you then it’s a bit rich to assume that they cannot do the same. And if they can do the same, then all your effort is wasted. All the conversations you create in your head, the way you pitch yourself, the way you stand, breathe, avoid sneezing, try to be neutral towards things you feel passionately about for the fear of being an annoyance or starting an argument. The way you pretend to act cool, when you are annoyed, offended, hurt or disturbed, it is all for nothing because humans understand each other and everyone at Law School is human (even the Saanps).

Second, because whatever one might say, trust and achievement don’t rest on your Yelp scores. A few good ‘reviews’ aren’t gonna make you the Shed at Dulwich (see VICE) and a couple of dings won’t cause a nosedive. This is because of the Law school grapevine. Word gets around. Everyone knows how you behave towards whom. And we know it isn’t possible to always be happy. The perpetually happy soul is thus an anomaly and his kept-up appearance will send alarm bells ringing for anyone who has to decide whether to work with him.

And the perpetually happy soul (or someone who aims to be one) knows that for him this is another reason to worry. To prevent nosediving he must know what A thinks of B thinks of C thinks of D, then moderate interactions accordingly. The gossip he shares with his friend circle now requires moderation because, well, he can’t really trust them completely with anything.  He must appear to be smart but not cocky or people will not like him. He must perform well to look like an achiever to his peers, but he must play it cool when it doesn’t always work out because showing emotion is for duds. He cannot call out the flaws in the system, because it would be hypocritical and what if someone gets to know about it.

All of this thinking, overthinking, stressing, and overstressing will ultimately drive you into a dark place because, deep in your heart, you know what people think of you and how much people would do for you. And that hurts because despite all your ‘effort’, things rarely change and now you are in a vicious cycle of questioning your self-esteem and valuing yourself based on what others think of you.

And so, your mental health is in shambles.

But maybe there is a better way of handling this. Better than just keeping up the appearance of being happy, all day, every day, all the time, with everyone and burning out in the process.

Perhaps, we would be able to avoid this constant nervousness that is at the root of the varied nature of mental problems just by making a few lifestyle adjustments. Starting with valuing our own opinions, and our right to express what is just human emotion. Then, separating the act from the actor, and understanding people’s aims and motives to avoid taking the cutthroat competition (or literally anything else) we face personally. Further, placing ourselves and others in context to escape faulting them for expressing themselves and changing their tone from one of eternal sweetness to one that is just a tiny bit irritated with us, but is a little more human. Lastly, forgiving ourselves and others for being true to human nature because clearly being an achievement-oriented work machine is not working out anymore.

All of this might make Law Schoolites’ life visibly imperfect. But it could make us capable of pulling ourselves and others out of the abyss of indifference and ignorance we have all fallen into. It could make Law School more bearable for everyone.

And so maybe, we should all be a bit more human now because in the long-run, we’re all dead anyway.

[TRIGGER WARNING: Eating disorders; Bulimia]

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a successful woman in possession of all the means and materials for a fulfilling life, must still be in want of the perfect female body.”

Ms. Austen might as well have proclaimed this verity and it would have been far truer for far longer.

Scroll through your Instagram and you’ll find yourself looking at a mix of envy-inducing posts of your friends/acquaintances/don’t-remember-why-we-are-friends living their best lives looking like they walked out of a Vogue magazine cover, the Hadid sisters looking like they could walk – nay, catwalk all over your crushed soul in towering heels, influencers selling flat-tummy tea, appetite-reducing candies and ways to deal with that pesky bum cellulite, with a light sprinkling of before (sad Pooh bear) and after (female Hulk who could crush you with her glutes) pictures, and innumerable internet trolls telling random women that they’re “uGly aNd No oNe wOUld dO tHem”. And that’s just social media for you, don’t get me started on Bollywood and the perfect ‘kamariya’, or fairness creams advertisements trying to convince us that possessing melanin is a criminal offence, and the list goes on ad nauseum.

Closer home, the ladies in my family are found discussing a new weight loss method every time I see them – from lemon and hot water, to power yoga, to eating only proteins and no carbs (= no happiness) – even though they clearly have worse issues to deal with, for instance, serving hot rotis to their husbands while they chortle over casually sexist mian-biwi jokes on WhatsApp. I have lived most of my life in morbid fear of these ladies who don’t forget to point out if my other female cousins or I have become ‘healthy’ (North Indian family code for ‘who will marry her now’) or ‘sookha hua’ or ‘beta tan ho gaye ho’ every time I meet them at family functions.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not judging any of these women. We’re all in the same boat, after all. The boat that tirelessly sails towards the sparkling horizon of the perfect female body, powered with the fuel of self-loathing, armed with diet plans, fitness regimes and 50-step Korean skincare. I, like almost literally every woman, struggle with body image issues. Dressing rooms make me cry, cameras give me anxiety and my relationship with food is still ‘complicated’, to say the least. I’ve been through eating disorders. In school, I starved myself – lying to friends that I ate at home and lying to my parents that I ate at school – while acid eroded my empty stomach. For months, I went through the carefully practiced ritual of excusing myself after a meal, going to the washroom, washing two fingers, sticking them far down my mouth, feeling my guilt and my last meal rise in my throat, retching into the toilet bowl, repeating this about a dozen times, flushing and then panting as mucus, tears and shame ran down my face. I did this enough times in a day for my parents to worry I had loose motions. I don’t do that anymore. Not because I’m at complete peace with my body now, but simply because my bulimia took time and energy that I didn’t have after a point of time. I was tired of my throat tasting of regurgitated food, of looking at meals and wondering what they would taste like on their way out and tired of the tell-tale bruise at the back of my fingers. I was lucky to not go further down that vortex. Not everyone is.[1] But still, no matter how much I try and inundate myself in messages of body positivity and telling myself that I must do better than fall prey to these silly patriarchal and capitalistic notions, that feeling of never being good enough never goes away. So, what’s the point of writing this? Is it just a pity party? No.

The point is that we in law school, or generally in life, don’t talk about body image issues and body positivity anywhere nearly as much as we should. The importance of talking about it needn’t be explained if you just read through the above few paragraphs. That was just one story. And it doesn’t have to be as bad as having a disorder for this to be considered a crisis – a crisis of self-esteem, hiding in plain sight in the minutiae of everyday life. Naomi Wolf puts it better than anyone when she says that “…women’s identity must be premised upon our ‘beauty’ so that we will remain vulnerable to outside approval, carrying the vital sensitive organ of self-esteem exposed to air.”[2] Everywhere we look, women are being told that their life amounts to nothing and their success is hollow till they haven’t appeased the male gaze through the ultimate sacrifice of their bodies. Lest someone should complain about the inordinate focus on women: yes, body image is an issue for all genders and sexes but the pressure exerted on women in our patriarchal world to look and behave a certain way is different from, and undeniably more onerous than what men are subjected to. And the most destructive aspect of all this? That you can never ‘get it right’. The perfect female body is always a mirage, a race to the bottom.

It’s no secret that we as a community in law school choose to maintain silence on a lot of important issues. Body image is one such pernicious issue and it is sapping the mental, physical and emotional health of innumerable women, yes, including the Woke Women ^TM of law school. Our toxic hookup culture, where you’re considered prudish and uncool for not having casual sexual encounters, means that there is a constant pressure to be considered conventionally desirable, lest you be marked with disapproval by the male gaze. Every other person you talk to will casually mention how much weight they need to lose, and we resultantly throng to the gym every evening, mostly for all the wrong reasons. Bad dietary patterns are the norm (one meal and five double coffees a day sound familiar?), providing a great cover for the eating disorders of which we don’t speak. And no change in appearance ever goes unnoticed by the constantly scrutinizing eyes of the law school gossip network of which are all guilty participants. The stigma attached to issues of body image, in our little community and outside, is also perhaps evident from the fact that I write this anonymously, afraid of being thought of as the crazy girl who used to throw up her food. The simple point is that no one should have to feel worthless because they don’t look a certain way. We shouldn’t be telling each other and ourselves that we need to achieve certain physical attributes to be happy, successful and desirable or just comfortable in our own skins. Having this conversation, like many others, requires active effort because we have to force ourselves to question and militate against lifelong pervasive social conditioning.

It’s not about being in love with our bodies; it’s simply about accepting them for what they are. And this acceptance is not easy to achieve unless we, as a community, become more accepting of each other. So maybe next time you’re cracking that fat joke or ranking female acquaintances on their physical assets, stop for a minute and think about the toxic culture to which you’re contributing. Maybe the next time your friend whines to you about how much weight they’ve put on, tell them they’re so much more than their bodies and that amidst all the crazy things that life and law school throw at us, that’s the last thing they should be worried about. If you have thin privilege, realize that your socially acceptable body type doesn’t place you on a pedestal – it is not an accomplishment. Acknowledge and accept the struggles of larger persons and persons with disabilities and be strong allies.

It’s not impossible to unlearn this toxicity, to challenge these standards and falsities that are thrown at us, and to break out of this ‘beauty myth’.[3] But we’ve got to try hard as hell. Let’s not walk around loathing the skin and bones that hold us together.

[1] Over 25% of teenage Indian girls suffer from eating disorders, Scroll, January 5, 2018, https://scroll.in/magazine/863540/over-25-of-teenage-indian-girls-suffer-from-eating-disorders-this-art-project-shows-how-they-feel.

[2] Naomi Wolf, The Beauty Myth (1990).

[3] “The beauty myth tells a story: The quality called ‘beauty’ objectively and universally exists. Women must want to embody it and men must want to possess women who embody it.” – Naomi Wolf, The Beauty Myth (1990).

This piece has been written by Anonymous.

Trigger warning:  Mental illness and depression. 

I belong to the – now unacceptable among the liberal circles – group of people that is annoyed by the refuge the urban middle class takes in, illnesses like clinical depression, Asperger’s syndrome, ADHD, ADD, OCD etc.  Mind you, I don’t think they don’t exist. I just think they’re a. over-diagnosed, b. definitely over self-diagnosed, and c. promoted by the oversensitive liberal media as some sort of a common thing from which a very large proportion of the population suffers. In fact, I believe that most people who claim that they suffer from one of the above are actually, mainly, hypochondriac. One can trace a pattern in their medical behaviour without much difficulty. “I’m think I’m running a fever, I’ll get myself checked for flu.” Or “I have a terrible back ache, I think I’ll get checked for arthritis.” Try to sleep the fever off for a day, maybe. Or, exercise?

I sincerely believe people need to toughen up a little. I still remember my 10th standard English teacher making fun of us for wearing sweatshirts to school on days when it wasn’t so cold. “You’re all becoming too…pampered,” she had said. Naturally, I found it amusing that she couldn’t come to terms with the fact that perhaps, not everyone felt equally cold or hot at a given time, or the fact that the choice to wear a sweatshirt when they wanted to was a personal call. But as I got rid of my sweatshirt in that third week of a not-so-cold November, I saw where she was coming from. I realised, for the first time,  that my choice was influenced more heavily by whether or not the others donned it to class during a season.

And as I grew up, I began to notice a very similar ‘bandwagon effect’ at play in areas such as mental health. Far too many of my friends started saying they were depressed and proceeded to get their depression certified by qualified doctors. Some others began to defend their lack of interest in academics that they and I shared (because of the great school education system in operation) by hiding behind ADD and ADHD – “I have problems remaining focused for too long.” “I used to be hyperactive as a kid, always jumping, running around.” Okaaay…?

I clearly remember being a hyperactive kid back in my school days. I was the kind of person who played with kids much younger when the kids my age decided to divert their time and attention to their stupid pre-boards. As I mentioned earlier, I really do not dispute the fact that these illnesses exist. I do resent the recourse that a lot of my friends seem to be taking in such conditions, certainly in private, if not openly.

And yet, despite all my convictions on the mental health rhetoric, I cannot deny that there is something wrong with me. Over the past few months, I have become half the person I used to be. I cannot get myself out of my bed unless it’s something absolutely important such as going to class, eating, peeing, meeting my partner, going for a committee meeting, etc. And this inability (read: “choice not”) to engage in any productive work now dictates my lifestyle in many ways.

For instance, I make conscious efforts to do my grocery shopping right after class, on the few days that I can remember, on time, what I have to do (ADD?). Sure, one reason is that the Acad is just closer to the shops in Nags and you may say I’m overanalysing. But I think I know that my choice is more of an acceptance of the fact that once I enter my room, I probably won’t get any work done. Yet, none of these, even taken together, were strong enough to frighten or upset me seriously.

The final straw that broke my back (and caused arthritis haha) was my newfound love for darkness. It was midway through my vacations that I observed that I had stopped switching my lights on. Completely. Thanks to eBooks – and WhatsApp and Facebook that keep me from reading eBooks – I didn’t find it all that hard to manage without light. If I wanted to look for food, flashlight. If I wanted to look for that favourite pair of clothes hiding under the other clothes or the bed somewhere, flashlight. But, most of the times, not even that. I’d just rely on the existing sources of light, such as, say, the lighting on the street seeping through the window, or the CFL in the other room that my housemate almost always kept on.

In this darkness, I would stay in my bed for hours together. On most days, my battery would die, and the charger was too far away. I spent those phoneless hours thinking, unintentionally, about everything that I cared about, which translated to everything that made me sad – from petty things like academic integrity to bigger things like what role I could play in striking hard at oppressive structures. But the thoughts were always, always, quite depressing. They ranged from how people cheated in exams, how it sucked that I had resorted to scamming my projects, to how sad it was that AMSS split into CAM and SAM, how Priya Pillai was ‘offloaded’ from a flight in Delhi.  And regardless of whether or not these thoughts shook me up, one thing they did quite effectively was that they kept me hooked to my bed.

Just as I thought I was getting better, 15th November happened and it really set me back by months. I could not help but feel insignificant and trapped in a circle that I felt like I had never intended to get myself into. I thought of all the times I had thought about jumping off my balcony, even momentarily, during my JEE preparation. Of the times when I felt like I’d be much better off smoking at the circle than working on my projects on the last last day. And of all the times that I masturbated not because I was horny but because I did not know what else there was to do.

But the only thing that gives me hope and the energy to work and be happy (which I am on most days, these days) is that these things can be overcome. That even “clinical depression” is different from piles or dengue which, I believe, a person cannot overcome (at least within a desirable time period) without medical help. I could really do without the “have you been to the counselor” because I have and I feel like my bed understands me a lot better. And I also know that you, you, who tells me that I need help, you have been here. And I would just like to tell you that sure, it is a problem, it is very real, but elevating it to the level of other diseases harms us individually by taking away the strength that, I believe, some of us take in knowing that it’s something that can be overcome.

One morning, if you were to summon the courage to wake up early (or if you were to involuntarily wake up after a late night alcohol binge), and stand in front of your mirror and tilt it at an angle so that the first rays of sunlight hit your reflection, you might happen to see a gaping hole in the center of your chest. It won’t be a perfect circle, but a mass of raw, gaping tissue, as if somebody had clawed their way through your sternum. You would be shocked that you were still alive. This hole had begun innocently enough, as a discolored bruise. One day you noticed it had assumed the texture of a scratch. Two mornings earlier it was an incised wound, and you were seriously considering going to the doctor. Now you look at yourself and expect to faint, but somehow you’re still standing and everything around you is just as ordinary as ever.

The doctor at the hospital doesn’t think anything’s wrong. Your blood pressure, temperature, all vital stats came normal. You repeatedly point to your chest and he gives a slight leery glance, adjusts his spectacles and says, “Really dear, there’s nothing there. The X Rays don’t show anything. Maybe you should take some rest. It will be alright, eventually.” So you put down your hole to an early morning hallucination because really, if you were that hurt you would have bled to death by now.

You carry on with the motions, going to class, going to lunch, going out with friends, going to bed, repeat, ad nauseum. You consciously avoid looking at the hole when you dress in the morning, but its presence haunts you in the form of a dull, throbbing pain which refuses to subside. You watch your favourite music videos, read your favourite books, binge-eat, crack the same stupid jokes you do in every conversation. Nobody notices your wound. It occurs to you that maybe some supernatural spirit crept into your bedroom at night and ripped out your heart, replacing it with some imposter organ. Blood doesn’t flows in your veins anymore. It has been replaced by a bitter, corrosive poison. You cannot summon the energy to do anything, not even cry. The melancholy of not being able to share your predicament has been replaced by a strange listlessness that makes you want to sleep all the time.

This time, the doctor sends you to a ‘specialist’, one who claims to know all about such holes. He personally thinks it is hogwash, but suggests you give it a try. The specialist scientifically explains the different types of holes she has encountered over the years-splinters left by heartbreaks, cracks from years of abuse, valleys carved out by professional failure. “I haven’t experienced any of these,” you say numbly. Your own voice sounds alien to you now, so do your body and your mannerisms.

“Try yoga,” she says helpfully, with the all too bright smile of someone who knows she has a lost case on her hands, but tries anyway. “Or exercise. I have some books you can read-”

“Tried all of that. Thanks.”

“Well darling, you can’t be like this forever, you know, it isn’t normal.”

“I know,” you say helplessly.

“Well I have these, err, toffees, they are really good,” she says, her eyes flashing.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t worry these things happen. It will be alright, eventually.”

So you take her toffees, and they taste okay enough, and they dull your senses even more and make you want to sleep all the time, but you’re like ‘whatever, she said it would help patch up the hole.’ Instead it only widens, so now you can see all the blood vessels inside, and how they’ve been corrupted.

When you tell your mother, she expresses disbelief at first, and then advises you to go to a priest. “This is all because of the absence of God,” she says wisely, a bit too wisely. “Turn to prayer, and it will be alright, eventually.” You say thanks and put down the phone. You are old enough and smart enough to know how your predecessors had turned to religion or communism or art or fanaticism, that most people with holes end up becoming radicals or revolutionaries of some sort, and those who can’t turn to other, different kinds of toffees to solve their problems.

You often surmise why is it that in a world with billions of people, you had to be the only one with this ailment. Are you some kind of Chosen One? You know that isn’t true though, there have been people before you, and people after you, and many of them have gone on to become successful professionals, artists, doctors, businessmen and criminals. You watch their documentaries, watch at how they laugh and talk about how it’s all okay now, how they’ve managed to assimilate with the crowd, and wonder how is it that they can lie so convincingly.

You know that this is an epidemic spreading across the students of the world, and that while it cuts across barriers of caste, class, religion and gender, it affects some communities more than it does others. You think back upon your past and wonder if it was always there in you, even as a child, this inability to reconcile yourself with the world and the people who inhabit it. You read about a boy who loved science and stars and nature, and wonder why his words resonate with you so much. When you tell your friends, they will laugh and say, “You’re so silly yaar, you worry about such silly things.” Your spouse pats your head comfortingly and says, “It’s the office stress, I know it. Let’s go on a trip to Switzerland. My friend told me about this amazing offer-”

Needles knit up your lips, a curtain of nonchalance drapes your eyes, and just like that a mask is constructed. The corruption is finally complete. Your entire body is now hollow. Your in-laws will express their approval at your transformation and say, “See we knew, having children would solve it. Things always become alright, eventually.”

Years from now on, activists will politicize your hole and journalists will write tell-all articles about it and reams of medical opinion will be published on the diagnosis of holes and how proper treatment could have saved you. Strangers on Facebook will make your hole their public property, as if they had always known it was there and had lived with it, in fact, were best friends with it. Those who claimed to be closest to you will express confusion and distaste and sorrow and say, “Well, we had no idea they were that sick! They never said anything! They were always so hale and hearty, not even a common cold. I swear to god, right up till that day-they were-”

Right up till that day, you will see it in the mirror, that abyss inside you. You will shrug and walk out, with a last glance at your reflection. It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself, before closing the door. It will be alright, eventually.