‘You’re going to NLS Bangalore for Public Policy – are you kidding me?’, a random guy at a house party back in Delhi exclaimed. ‘You’re quitting your job for that?’; I just nodded nonchalantly in response. ‘Broooo, MPP is the step child of NLS, brooo’, he repeated with feverish concern as I continued to smirk and dismiss the drunken rant. Little did I know that I would soon have anecdotal evidence for the modern-day adage, “a drunk mind speaks a sober heart.”

Now, before I go on, I would like to give you the long and short of this article, especially to the defendants (yeah, I know that legal term).  This piece is not meant to be a narrative of the aggrieved (nailing it) or a plea for more inclusivity. At best, the only phrase that can emote the sentiment behind this article is, ‘Lolol, but like why?’.

I was prompted to write all this down because a trespasser from the LLB territory (what territory?!) scribbled certain equations (literally and figuratively) between the LLMs, MPPs, and the LLBs (in no particular order) in our classroom.

When I first saw the graffiti, my knee-jerk reaction was to dismiss it as a childish gimmick, a reaction which resonated with a few others too. It was only after a few minutes of post-coffee brooding that I realised the folly of my uncritical bearing and the possible (albeit temporally far-off) consequences of such apathy. I began by taking a picture and sending out a mail which merely questioned the very motive (I am telling you, I could have been a lawyer) behind such an act. Why does anyone here feel the need to construct a hierarchy? I am genuinely seeking an answer to this. The utility of such bigotry (if I may take the liberty to call it so) is lost on me and the other plaintiffs (I should really stop). Even the battle cry for FUGS (Front for Undergraduate Solidarity) seemed offensive at first but now it just seems like a bad acronym. I mean, you really could have done a better job.

Even more baffling is the constant justification I receive from certain LLB students (I’d kill to take names but I ain’t in no witness box). Their justification? “Dude, not all LLBs hate your lot”. Whut? What am I to say to that? Express gratitude that the MPP-LLM hatred is not as pervasive as the gender-based harassment on this campus? Well, I mostly end up giving a chortle and walking away rather than arguing (wouldn’t have killed it as a lawyer after all).

So, what’s all the CLATter about?

I am assuming that a major source of any such sense of superiority flows from the fact that the LLBs are the top scorers in CLAT. I recognize that and hugely respect it. I also realize that the entry requirements for the MPP and LLM courses might not be as rigorous (though many might disagree) as the ones for LLB. I also concede that this is originally a law school and all of you are here for more years than us. But all these factors simply add to the narrative; none of them explain the partisan behaviour. I mean what drives this behaviour really? It can’t simply be “spaces like Chetta, Bistro, Library, Field and even Rohini have been monopolised and appropriated away from us”. That is not a battle-worthy cause. I mean, have you even eaten the food at Bistro? You can’t possibly be this possessive about the food-littered granite slabs and the artificially coloured gravies.

So, it obviously runs a lot deeper than that. I wonder if it’s got to do something with social conditioning (yes, I am going there). The kind of conditioning that debilitates one’s empathy towards people who they perceive to be less accomplished? It’s a question we all need to ask ourselves. We come with social and material privileges we take for granted and constantly fail to recognise that most of the people around us are fighting their own battles. Everyone is fighting a battle. The LLM student who fought with parents back home to come here; the MPP student who gave up the financial security of a salaried job for a place as promising as this; and the LLB student who finds it hard to stay away from home for the first time. So why make anybody feel any less worthy?

All in all, you know nothing about us except for the course we’re pursuing or may be the amount of space we take up on the grimy (and often covered with bird poop) bleachers in the field. Is that all that it takes to invoke hatred towards us? Sigh. If yes, then what is the difference between the ones who undergo the five-year-kick-you-in-the-crotch-spit-on-your-neck-fantastic (F.U.G.S.) training at NLSIU and the ones feeding off provocative WhatsApp forwards? And no, it’s not that far-fetched an analogy.

(Disclaimer: Not all MPPs)

Hi Spadika, tell us a little bit about your time in Law School. What committees were you a part of, what kind of activities were you interested in, and what did you prioritise?

Law School, in hindsight, was a period of big transformation. I suppose it’s the same for all of us. In my first year, I tried my hand at debating, and was part of the Literary and Debating society. From my second year onwards, I became actively involved with LSC and IDIA- I also headed the IDIA chapter in my final 2 years. ‘Social work’ therefore ended up becoming a big part of my five years in law school. I became almost obsessed with the ideas of diversity and inclusion. One of the best uses of my time in fifth year was being part of the team that worked on the NLS Diversity Census. Apart from social impact related work, I was also interested in Intellectual Property law, so I ended up writing for SpicyIP and helped Professor Shamnad Basheer as a research assistant for a couple of his books and articles. I was also a part of Quirk in my final year, in the time it moved from the print edition to online. Shout out to your team – Quirk today continues to be my strongest link to law school! 🙂 I also dabbled with mooting, did a couple of moots and participated in the Jean Pictet competition that took place in France during my year.

As a consequence of juggling all these activities, maintaining a decent CGPA and not giving up on afternoon naps (EVER), I’d say the one thing I missed out on was involving myself more in the law school fests. I saw my friends form some of their strongest bonds and have some of their most memorable experiences over SF, Spiritus, etc. If I could go back and do law school all over again, that’s the one thing I would change.

It’s now been 2 years since you graduated law school. What have you been doing since then? 

I was a Business Analyst at McKinsey and Company for 2 years, before the startup bug bit me- I now work at an early stage startup called Kaleidofin, that focuses on financial inclusion in the informal economy.

Was choosing an alternative career a difficult choice to make, given the importance of corp jobs especially around 4th year in Law School? 

I was always conflicted about whether I wanted a corporate law career, or even a career in law at all. While I had loved my time in Law School, I didn’t catch a fancy for any legal career. In 4th year, I managed to escape the corp law peer pressure by doing an exchange program in Sweden. However, when I came back, I bit the bullet and did a corporate law internship. I also interviewed for the PPO, and when I did not receive one, I sat down and seriously thought about why I was half-heartedly pursuing something I knew I would not enjoy. I realised that while I loved Law School, I was a lot more passionate about social impact than about the law itself.

I then decided not to sit for Day 0 at all, because I knew that if I did sit, it would be too difficult to later turn down such a cushy, ‘prestigious’, well paying job. I think the best thing the NLS degree gives you is a safety net- I knew that if nothing else works out, I could go back and get a job at a smaller corporate law firm, or a litigation chamber. This gave me the freedom to hold out and soul search. When I heard that McKinsey was going to recruit, I spoke to a couple of seniors who worked there, and did a bit of research. McKinsey sounded perfect- two years of doing a variety of work to figure out what you really like. It’s also a great brand to be associated with, to transition out of law. I decided to apply, and was elated when I got the offer.

How do you feel about not working with the law per se, which is a concern many people in law school have about alternative careers? 

An ‘alternate career’, especially consulting, especially at McKinsey, throws the field wide open. Over the past 2 years, I have learnt of career options that I had no idea existed back in Law School. You could say that as far as alternate careers go, I have it pretty easy thanks to having worked in consulting. But even if you don’t, if you have a bit of hustle, it can be really rewarding! One thing I’ve noticed about the typical law schoolite (who goes into litigation or a law firm) is that they are unlikely to make a single non-lawyer friend after entering law school. That’s quite limiting, if you think about it. An alternate career, even if just for a couple of years, can (re)open your eyes to the rest of the world. And thanks to the great Law School network- if you don’t like the non-law world, remember that you can always go back to law. 2 years in, I see vacancies in law firms pop up almost every week on the batch Whatsapp group.

Therefore, I do think that trying out a non-law job right out of law school is one of the least risky, and most rewarding things you can do.

That said, continuing on in a non-law path is not always easy, for one main reason. The NLS network is extremely powerful, but its influence is largely limited to the legal world. When you compare yourself to, say, someone from a top IIT, whose alumni occupy top spots in pretty much all spheres of business, it can feel a bit lonely to be off the legal track as a Law Schoolite. Most of your typical ‘studly’ role models from college lose relevance to your goals (or to help figure out your goals), and it can be difficult to find mentors who share the same background as you.  You may find that you do not have as much of a safety net outside law school. This is why I think choosing a reputed firm like McKinsey will help a lot, as the McK-network has the potential to really take you places.

What are the demands of a job in McKinsey? Do you think your education at law school has helped you with the job? 

As a Business Analyst in McKinsey, you will work on different projects (called ‘studies’), each typically lasting 3-4 months. On each study, you will be part of a team working out of the client site, solving a business challenge they are facing. The challenges could be operational, like how to increase supply chain efficiency; or strategic, like what should be the 5 year plan of the company. Over my 2 years, I have worked out of an automotive plant, out of a government Ministry, spent a few months on the road in Tamil Nadu auditing loan applications, and out of a swanky corporate head office. Despite my atypical journey (I ended up spending >75% of my time in the financial services sector), I have tried my hand at a pretty crazy variety of work- something pretty much no other career than consulting can give you.

Work aside, McKinsey also pampers its new hires with a lot of opportunities for foreign travel. Even if you (like me) are not lucky enough to actually land a study abroad, you will have the chance to attend trainings and conferences in exotic locations, and people encourage you to take a few days off before/after to travel! The most interesting country that I did a work-sponsored trip to was Colombia. I am pretty sure that’s a corner of the world I would have never had a chance to visit otherwise. What’s more fantastic than the travel itself is the culture that enables it- the firm truly believes that happy people are the most productive.

My Law School knowledge did not help me in my job per se, other than enabling me to sound more knowledgeable about some topics (like Aadhaar, for example). However, the skill sets do come in use. Speed reading, critical analysis, structuring are things that we have been practicing for years. I think a big difference between law school training and engineering training is that Law School focuses on critical thinking, while engineering focuses on problem solving. I found it slightly challenging to shift to a problem-solving mindset initially, but in the long run, I think it’s a great combination to be comfortable with both– and consulting enables that.

What is the best / worst part of your job? 

Consulting as a profession is structured in a way that true work/life balance is nearly impossible to achieve. Long work hours are the norm (although I would say it’s better than a Law Firm). The back and forth travel is exciting initially, but can wear you down over time. All that said, it’s a really exciting job- I have had multiple people tell me that my Instagram handle is super annoying thanks to all the travel- isn’t that the true sign of a life well-lived?

What would be your piece of advice to someone looking to explore a career in consultancy? 

A lot of Law Schoolites are hesitant about consulting because it’s unknown and everything about it seems alien. My advice is to embrace it. Nobody goes into consulting knowing what to expect- that’s part of the journey! The core skill you pick up is the ability to land in any situation and figure out what to do at lightning speed. There are enough examples of law schoolites who spent 2 years at Mckinsey, picked up these cool skills and went back to law (Arun Srikumar, founding partner at the law firm Keystone; Harini Vishwanathan, currently at Allen & Overy; Viraj Parikh and Vinodini Srinivasan, Associates at Keystone); there are also some great examples of people who charted interesting non-law career paths for themselves (Adithya Banavar, who does strategy at Spotify in New York, and Sarayu Natarajan who worked at an Impact Investing fund after McKinsey).A couple of people have also decided to stay on and climb the ladder at McKinsey itself- like Uttara and Divya Shenoy. The Business Analyst program used to be a 2 year program until a couple of years ago- now it’s a regular track, and everyone can choose to stay on after 2 years if they wish.

Do not fear that you will be left with no choices if you take up consulting after Law School- in fact, your problem will be that you will have too many choices. I had interviewed with venture capital funds, impact investing funds, and a philanthropic foundation before narrowing down on what I want to do.

Over the course of two years, I had found an area of interest in financial inclusion. This is something I would never have been exposed to had I taken up a legal job. I began scouring the space for opportunities, and once something clicked, I decided it was time to leave McKinsey. I now work closely with the founding team at Kaleidofin, helping underserved, low income communities gain access to financial services. I love being here, and am excited about what the future holds.

“She’s a cool girl. Being the Cool Girl means I am a hot, brilliant, funny woman who adores football, poker, dirty jokes, and burping, who plays video games, drinks cheap beer, loves threesomes and anal sex, and jams hot dogs and hamburgers into her mouth like she’s hosting the world’s biggest culinary gang bang while somehow maintaining a size 2, because Cool Girls are above all hot. Hot and understanding. Cool Girls never get angry; they only smile in a chagrined, loving manner and let their men do whatever they want. Go ahead, shit on me, I don’t mind, I’m the Cool Girl”.

The words of Gillian Flynn often disturbed me. Maybe because it was the most blunt, honest characterization of millions of women, echoed by a psychotic yet genius woman (watch Gone Girl). Primarily because to my absolute horror, it was like a checklist I had ticked several points off for a couple of years after coming to NLS.

It’s difficult to clarify these things in your head. To my mind, I had always been a feminist. There was no question that I was not okay with sandwich jokes, but maybe I didn’t have to make a big deal out of it every time and give everyone “BT”. Maybe it was fine for me to simply give a small smile, but no encouragement. After all, these were my friends and I knew they weren’t sexist. What’s the harm?

The harm is what the Cool Girl does to you, internally and outwardly. Outwardly, you take convenient stances when it comes to your friends. You emphasize on context and shift focus from the issue to technicalities. Which is the problem in the way that so many of us reacted to the Vedica controversy last year – we caught up on the technicalities on how they had gone wrong, ignoring the subtle but important point that AoW tried to make. The Cool Girl unquestionably takes away from the fight that needs to be fought.

But the internal cost of being a Cool Girl at NLS is so much more. It is constantly second guessing yourself, and how interesting you are. It’s telling yourself that you must adopt the loud Delhi boy humour, as opposed to the quiet sardonic humour you possess right now. It is nudging yourself into situations and interests and activities that are not you, but they’re the understanding of cool.

It is circumventing your feelings and wishes in any relationship, tailoring your interests to the boy-man so that he likes you and enjoys spending time with you – after all, he has to if you’re one of the boys right? His friends MUST think you’re cool, never mind the personal discomfort you’re in by stifling your opinion and reactions. Creating a scene at Chetta, confronting your boyfriend and then becoming the talk of the entire college? Nah, the Cool Girl is a secure, hot woman, who quietly drinks her beer.

So should we stop drinking beer and devouring pizzas and wearing the clothes we think we like? I think it would be trivializing the issue to say that these traits should all be abandoned with immediate gusto. Mainly because they shouldn’t be allowed to be “masculine traits” to begin with. I, along with dozens of women I know, love beer and burping. That’s not something women should be apologizing for.

But then how does one even begin to break out of this trend?

I started by speaking. And speaking unashamedly. Phrases I often found myself adopting before were “I don’t entirely agree with you, but you are entitled to your opinion” or “I don’t think the way to change people’s minds is to shame them”. The latter I’ve found is the key to entrenching sexism in law school. And it’s a statement that every Cool Girl makes, because remember, you cannot be angry — you must smile in a chagrined manner. You will be congratulated for being rational and reasonable and calm. God forbid that you nag or boss or scold or do anything that isn’t chill.

Which brings me to “CHILL”. The eternal comeback given to every woman in law school who raises her voice, especially on matters of equality, but even on anything at all. If you are conscientious about your work, if you don’t want to spend your night lazing with contraband on the field, if you just don’t get Rick and Morty, if you don’t grin at pussy or sandwich jokes – congratulations, you’re no longer chill.  This isn’t to say that I have a problem with the women who choose to engage in these things (well, except the last) but the issue is that it has become a way to limit and classify people. And yes, this constrains guys too. But I’ve found it to be a massive driving force in the way that especially women behave on campus. We already function in a competitive environment where the community is so close knit that gossip travels faster than through the Internet. This exacerbates the issues that so many women on campus face in the way they see themselves. You’re a slut, or you’re boring. You’re an irrational Vedica, or you’re an apologist Cool Girl. We’ve devised our own set of stultifying labels and roles for women on campus, and if you leave law school with your self confidence intact after 5 years, it’s a genuine miracle.

The Cool Girl has internalized these labels, adopted them as a part of her personality, thereby creating a vogue of being chill, and ergo, being quiet. In many ways, the Cool Girl is a modern variant of the age-old gender role of requiring women to be meek-mannered and wordless. Today, her voice is constrained not by a requirement to be quiet, but to be chill.

From someone who’s recently started breaking away, to the dozens I know are unsure of themselves. I can give you a sermon like I’ve had an epiphany and could write a self-help book (typical law schoolite obviously). But I’d rather just end by saying that maybe you won’t overhaul the patriarchy in law school, but you’ll definitely end up happier once you dump the Cool Girl.

Love,

A Proud Non-Cool Girl

On a dark BU highway, CLAT rank in my hand
Giant library tower , rising up through the air
Up ahead in the distance, I hear of submission deadlines
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim
I had to look for lifelines.
There it hung on the noticeboard;
The list of placements was swell.
And I was thinking to myself,
“This could be Heaven or this could be Hell”
Then he kicked open the door and he showed me my cube
There were voices down the corridor,
I thought I heard them say…

Welcome to the Laa School Life, macha.
Such a BT place (Such a BT place)
But there’s a saving grace.
Plenty of fun at the Hostel Himalaya
Any time of year (Any time of year)
It’s lit af here.

The system is fully twisted, it’s got some crazy demands.
It’s got a lot of shitty, shitty ploys, to bring you despair.
How they dance in the Acad quad, Trying to forget.
But they’ll always remember, and they’ll always regret.

So I called up the alumnus,
“This place is breaking my spine.”
He said, “Be the monster it wants you to be, then the rest will all be fine.”
And still those voices are calling from far away,
Wake you up in the middle of Torts class
Just to hear them say…

Welcome to the Laa School life, macha.
Such a BT place (Such a BT place)
Until you match its pace.
Then you’ll be livin’ it up at the Hostel Himalaya
What a nice surprise (what a nice surprise)
Can I live this life?

Results on the website,
That F by my name looks so nice.
I thought, “We are all just prisoners here, of our own device”
And in my roommate’s chambers,
They gathered for some scenes.
They had won it with skills and belief
But I just couldn’t take this grief.

Last thing I remember, I was
Running for the gate
I had to get that Uber fast
But the app just won’t book it.
“Relax, ” said the night man,
“We have blocked all these sites.
You can drop-out any time you like,
But you can never leave! ”

Welcome to the Laa School life, macha.
Such a BT place (Such a BT place)
Until you match its pace.
Then you’ll be livin’ it up at the Hostel Himalaya
What a nice surprise (what a nice surprise)
Can I live this life?

“When in Rome, do as the Romans do,” they say, but for those studying at NLSIU, Nagarbhavi (“Nags”), there are perhaps two Romes: One within the protected walls of our ivory tower: where we preach free love and advocate safe sex, and where more skin doesn’t (usually) mean less morals. Step out of the gates that house these red walls, though, and everything that is a norm within becomes an aberration.

Outside rests a world where ‘Indian Culture’ still runs wild, and wearing shorts and smoking is looked down upon. As Vijay, who has been working in Nags for the past 12 years puts it, “this is not M.G. Road after all”. Where the people who ought to be selling you contraceptives think it’s okay to refuse them to you saying, “Do you come to college to study or to do all this?” (Well, at least you know you weren’t imagining the judgment.) Dinesh, who has been running a pharmacy store for the past 5 years, attributes the difference in thinking to a generation gap. The other people we spoke to explain our behavior as coming from “modern places like Delhi” or “imitating foreigners” and claim to be able to easily tell the difference between NLS students and BU students, “It’s the way you all speak English and your clothes”, they told us when asked.

For many of us, like those of us who come from sheltered backgrounds in metropolitan cities, and those of us who pride ourselves in having the freedom to do what we want, the environment in Nags can become extremely stifling and frustrating. Nivedita Mukhija (Class of 2016) calls it the ‘Nagarbhavi Paradox’,[1] where one moment you are “reading a treatise on women’s empowerment, and the next … changing into full sleeved clothes” (because you need to go out and buy groceries). This is far from being a new development. Alumni of NLS have recounted that the area around campus always made them feel unsafe and rather uncomfortable. “We go out only as a group. There have been several times when eve teasers have harassed girls. In fact, most of us have begun to carry safety weapons for self-defense,”[2] said an NLSIU student way back in 2006.

…

Ten years later, the situation has barely improved. We conducted a small survey within the law school community regarding instances of sexual harassment around campus. Out of the 53 people who responded, 33 said that they have had to deal with instances of harassment, while 19 said that they have witnessed it happen to someone else. Instances of verbal harassment and lewd gestures were the most common; there were also attempts to take pictures and unwelcome physical advances. Instances of stalking were also disturbingly frequent, with nine women claiming that it had happened to them. The culprits could be shopkeepers who we interact with on a regular basis: last year, a first year student got her phone recharged at a local store and had to deal with unwanted messages on WhatsApp from the man who worked there. The could also be the faceless bikers we see zooming past us as breakneck speed, who often sneer at, stare at, and sometimes even physically hit women pedestrians. People working in the numerous juice shops just outside our campus also told us that the number of outsiders hanging around with their bikes and smoking, significantly decreases when Law School is shut, all the while implying that they come only to ogle us Law School women.

Our survey also asked what the women were doing when they were harassed – a question similar to the oh-so-common “but what were you wearing?”– in order to gauge whether it was our ‘abhorrent behavior’ that was inviting hostility towards us. However, while quite a few women did say that they were wearing short or skimpy clothes/smoking/wandering around campus at night when they were harassed, an equal number of women weren’t doing any of the above.

Unsurprisingly, most of the victims ignored these incidents. A few of them shouted back and a couple of them even chose to complain at the nearby police station. The complaints were not taken seriously. In the face of the language constraints, the fact that sexual harassment is still not taken seriously, and that very often women have no idea who their harasser was, women are often simply helpless, often accepting it as a normal part of going to Nags. This apathy, which perhaps exists due to the frequency of this harassment, is evident in the 50% of the responders who say that these incidents have not changed their behavior. Other respondents say that they no longer smoke as freely, go running to Bangalore University, or leave campus unless accompanied by a male. More importantly, everyone can relate to the sense of paranoia that crops up, especially after sun down.

…

It was with this information that we went around Nagarbhavi, asking its many inhabitants why they think incidents of sexual harassment occur. Notably, with the exception of a few small shops immediately outside campus, most shop owners claim to have never witnessed instances of sexual harassment or what is usually trivialized as “eve teasing”. Unsurprisingly, while everyone we spoke to agreed that sexual harassment is wrong and bad, many thought it happens because girls wear short clothes and stand around smoking. While this is certainly a form of victim blaming, most of the times it came across less as judgment and more as concern– the same concern our parents show us when they don’t let us go alone to “unsafe” places at night. For instance, the ammas working on campus assured us that wearing shorts is fine but warned us against wearing them outside because they don’t want anything bad to happen to us. For all our fight to be able to wear shorts on campus, (in re Shortsgate) we ourselves, on countless occasions, have gone back to our rooms to change into something that would cover us up before venturing out of campus.

While it is easy to justify these opinions as well intentioned, it becomes a problem when women are punished for not following these prescribed safeguards­­– such as when the guards at Gate 0 don’t let us enter at night even when they can clearly see that there are drunk men right outside Roti Park because as they see it, we shouldn’t be out so late anyway. These instances might seem completely different. You may think that there is a difference when your mom tells you not to wear shorts and when the latest BJP MLA does the same, and you’d be right. But at the end of the day both attribute sexual harassment, not to the men who do it, but to the actions of the women who are harassed. The problem arises the moment you associate wearing shorts or drinking or smoking or going out alone as the cause of sexual harassment. That’s the base of the pyramid that is rape culture. A society which thinks rape happens because girls were alone at night, will necessarily produce people who think they can rape someone because she was alone at night. These two strains of thought are interdependent where each sustains the other.

To be clear rapists constitute only the ugliest manifestation of this rape culture. The bulk of it is filled with real estate agents who don’t allow men in women’s apartments, because the neighbors will think ‘otherwise’, or the law school students who dismiss sexual harassment as trivial, crack jokes like ‘all attention is good attention,’ think women are prone to overreactions and paranoia because lets face it, it could have been worse. At least nothing ‘really bad’ happened.

…

Except it did. This October will mark the fourth year of one of our students being gang raped by eight men in the forests of BU. It made national news: ‘Gang Rape in India’s Premier Law School.’ It was a horrific incident, with the rapists handing her ten rupees after the heinous act was over.[3]

Bangalore University’s response was equally horrific, where they threatened our college with the ultimatum of withdrawing their land grant unless we changed our behavior. “We are fed up with the way the students of NLSIU are behaving and also with the bad name our campus is getting because of them.”[4] It was us, therefore, who were the cause of the bad name – we were “too liberal”. If media reports are to be trusted, the locals blamed us for being too “bold and courageous.” Our own administration bought this narrative and instituted a curfew for all students. The student dropped out of NLS soon after this incident.

The student response was vastly different, where the shocked and angered community staged a protest at the Town Hall, and the security was ramped up, the police were more vigilant. But, as is often the case, 4 years later, when the anger is gone, the curfew is gone and the police are gone, the sexual harassment still remains.

…

Most locals will tell you that things are changing slowly for the better. Vijay tells us how he always asks girls to smoke inside his restaurant so they don’t attract unwelcome attention outside. On a few occasions when men follow them inside, he tells them that he personally knows the girl and asks them not to pass comments.

We also realized that people’s changing notions of ‘Indian Culture’ come at the heels of economic benefit. Mohini, who sells cigarettes nearby, thinks there is nothing wrong with women smoking, all the while vehemently opposing them wearing shorts. And Praveen, who sells bhaang in his shop around Holi, sheepishly tells us that bhaang in small quantities is okay because it is a part of Indian festivals and culture.

There were even locals around campus who thought that there was absolutely nothing wrong with anybody wearing what they wanted and smoking as and when they pleased. Their opinions certainly seemed a thousand times more progressive than that of the educated registrar of Bangalore University. But seeing that places like Roti Park still exist, which function as a no entry zone for most law school students, things clearly aren’t changing fast enough. Nagarbhavi has been, and still is, a rural area still in the process of urbanization, and the students of National Law School have always largely been the crème de le crème of the middle and upper middle classes. It’s easy to attribute sexual harassment to the mindset of rural India and class resentment but there are enough instances of sexual harassment in modern settings of offices and schools and colleges to know that the urge to harass is not an uneducated backward man’s affliction.

…

Given that the problem of sexual harassment isn’t unique to Nagarbhavi, and that even in Nagarbhavi it has been a persistent disease, it is all too easy to brush it aside as something that nothing can be done about. What we do notice, though, is that the problem in Nagarbhavi co-exists with a gigantic cultural rift, and it is, perhaps, by means of stepping into this rift, that it can be dealt with as well.[5] But the larger problem that needs to be solved is the relative silence that exists around these incidents that has continued to affect women in all of Law School’s glorious twenty-five years.

While most of us have been experiencing first hand the fear of violence and the restrictions imposed on us by the recent protests in Karnataka, let’s not forget that this dread and inconvenience is an “option” that far too many women have to choose, every day.

…

(We would like to thank Aditya Patel (Batch of 2016)  and Sharvari Kothawade (Batch of 2019) for helping us conduct the interviews).

[1] https://thefeministmarshmallow.wordpress.com/?s=nagarbhavi+paradox

[2]http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/bengaluru/For-residents-Nagarbhavi-is-an-urban-slum/articleshow/1398668.cms

[3]http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/National-Law-School-student-raped-on-Bangalore-University-campus/articleshow/16814554.cms

[4]http://www.dnaindia.com/bangalore/report-bu-mulls-over-evicting-law-school-1752944

[5] This was also the principle with which the group ‘Blank Noise’ combated a similar problem in Yelahanka, where volunteers lined the streets with tables and chairs and invited passers-by to have a conversation with them, in a bid to understand each other.

]]> http://www.nlsquirks.in/when-in-nags/feed/ 8 http://www.nlsquirks.in/first-v-rest-an-analysis-of-the-senior-junior-dynamic-in-law-school/ http://www.nlsquirks.in/first-v-rest-an-analysis-of-the-senior-junior-dynamic-in-law-school/#respond Sun, 17 Jul 2016 04:43:37 +0000 http://www.nlsquirks.in/?p=1500 Continue readingFirst v. Rest: An Analysis of the Senior-Junior Dynamic in Law School]]> This article was written by Unnati Ghia (Batch of 2020).

There’s a lot of cynicism and negativity that exists in law school (just take a look at our mail threads.) So I think it’s about time that some aspects of law school be celebrated. And who better to do this than a lowly first year who still (somewhat) views law school through rose-tinted glasses.

When I first got in here, I expected mature and intimidating individuals; people you’re in awe of during every conversation you have with them, but apart from that, who would consider you too naive and immature to engage with. This expectation, obviously, was because of the idea “Oh my god, they cracked CLAT”.

Instead, I found quirky intellectuals who had a peculiar motto in life — sleep, eat, gossip, repeat. Interestingly, most would also be up for a drink at Surya at the drop of a hat (not that I’d complain about this), and had absolutely no qualms about interacting with their juniors. They were also conversant with topics and issues I never dreamed of discussing, leading me to believe that behind their lax exterior — these are individuals I can learn from.

But why do I think this dynamic is something that should be celebrated?

Firstly, in terms of what juniors gain from this interaction. Academically, it’s obvious. Within our first month here, we’re expected to dismiss all notions of having a chilled out five years, and adopt a new form of slavery, where victims toil for hours every day, lose sleep over our work and for some, weep over it as well (*cough* Univs *cough*). But also in terms of simpler things, such as managing my time, the way I have to approach my projects, the classes that I need to force myself to be up in (but consequently failed to do so)— I’ve had a lot of invaluable advice.

Parents, mentors and guides. I think it’s a brilliant mechanism where you are made to ‘claim’ and interact with your juniors, and they have a person they can learn about law school from, may it be the spoken or unspoken rules that apply here. For example, I learnt the hard way that you DO NOT ask a fifth year whether they would come to an event for contraband substances in an interview.

Also, treats are always welcome.

Next, committees. I’m sure people’s opinions would differ on this. This may seem as a flattering piece bolstering a committee that is universally considered lackadaisical and “chill”, but I’ve adjusted to law school so much better because of LnD. Whether it is a meeting where a member launches into long rants, or everyone winces when someone preaches feminist discourse, or people’s boudoir scenes become a topic of prime importance in place of NLSD; I’ve enjoyed every minute of it, and interacted with my seniors so much better because of it. My experience might not be the norm, for I’m aware of people who don’t quite fit into their respective committees.

Unfortunately in practice, we don’t interact with seniors outside our immediate circles, possibly because there is no common ground to get to know one another outside committees and mutual friends. Conversations are rarely started with unknown juniors, and you breeze through years here without knowing who people are. It is odd that this occurs in a community as small as ours, but I supposed that simply cannot be helped.

In the same way, boys from the second year onwards, understand and identify with their seniors to a greater degree. This can be because they live on the same floor, regularly pester each other for smokables and other banned substances, or of course, the infamous terrace culture. This level of interaction is absent in the girl’s hostel (cue aggressive discussion regarding systemic MHOR and WHOR differences).

But despite an overall lack of contact, and this is particularly amusing, we are aware of intimate details regarding people’s private lives and regularly pass judgements on them. Ranking in the form of stocks and shares, slut shaming, belittling both men and women is apparently an entertaining exercise in several circles.

I confess I have never seen seniors so concerned with their juniors’ well being and amorous relationships. Are they more concerned than they believe themselves to be? Yet, I do not understand how concern has anything to do with asking me my Top 5. Or perhaps, as I have heard many a time, this altruism is a method of “getting into someone’s pants”. The latter was best described to me as junior girls being new, ripe bananas, lowered into a cage full of starving monkeys, who are sick of the old (yet ripe) ones, and consequently grapple for the new.

I fear for the incoming first years.

But gossip and privacy invasions aside, I believe the compulsion to help and to advise has been instilled by the past batches, and our seniors then instil it in us. It is the notion that I’ve had someone guide me, and make my first few days easier; perhaps by claiming my kid and interacting with him, I can make someone else slightly more comfortable. I wonder why we don’t celebrate, or even acknowledge, this spirit more often.

The dynamics between years can obviously manifest itself in unsavoury ways. The fashion in which we give less importance to certain classes, based on advice given by seniors, and allow that to shape our approach towards a course and teacher, is something I regret. We focus our effort and attention on courses that have been categorized as difficult by our seniors, which admittedly in some scenarios is necessary, but this leads to certain courses being taken too lightly, even it contains something that could contribute to our knowledge.

And of course, the incident of positive interaction going a step too far.

At the outset, I want to make it clear that lines have to be drawn. Several of my batch mates are uncertain and hesitant towards quad parties, for example, for the fear that they will be made to drink and engage in activities they don’t want to. The concept of personal space and limits is incredibly individualistic, which makes instances of ragging case-specific. But what I think everyone has to understand is that certain seniors have different equations with their juniors.

Positive interaction sometimes leads to a foot being placed on someone’s neck, or alcohol being forced down someone’s throat, but we have to keep in mind that the senior in question isn’t essentially demeaning or hostile. It would not have been done if the senior had been aware that the person in question would be uncomfortable with it. I do have that much faith in the senior batches.

So should seniors err on the side of caution? If you know the junior is new and trying to figure his way around college, please do. It is ultimately your responsibility. Certain forms of PI are obviously not things you can do to someone you have never spoken to before, or first years within their first trimester. Should seniors be demonized for such occurrences, in cases still fresh in Law School’s mind? No.

With respect to what the first years think, I believe we find it easier to approach seniors and talk to them. We aren’t afraid to put our opinions across and call them out on their nonsensical faff (economic determinism say what?), but we imbibe ideas at the same time. I’ve graduated from someone who was unable to approach higher batches in school by virtue of being so in awe of them, to someone who greatly respects her seniors, but isn’t incapable of making fun of them.

I realize that this article could have analysed ragging, and some would consider my view on the equation a wasted opportunity, but I think there’s more to this relationship than just PI. But what I have hopefully managed to convey is that I’m glad I had people to help me understand this place.

Emerson once said, “What I need is someone who will make me do what I can”. I’ll end with a shout out to the seniors that have done that for me. Thank you for being patronising at times, acting as though your IQ is so much higher than ours (ahem), being unnaturally inquisitive about our love lives, but at the same time, genuinely being ever ready to assist us every step of the way.

To those who will not return come July, your presence will be sorely missed.

Exciting things have been happening here at Quirk.

For starters, we’ve finally gotten with the times and moved the magazine online (watch out, Buzzfeed!).

We are introducing many new features in this edition of Quirk. In In our Bookshelves, we have Sakhi telling you why you need to read Worm, a fantasy web-serial. In Law School Legends, you can discover the truth behind the many exaggerated myths which are religiously relayed to First Years on Surya Terraces, Spadika has done her research on the Legend of the Flying Kharbanda (sneak peek: she got it right from the horse’s mouth). Next up: The myth of Roti Park.

We are continuing our Poetry section where among other great poems, Nupur gives you a practical guide to dating a Left-Wing non-conformist. Other categories include: Gyaan (which there is always an abundance of in Law School, fifth years or not), Life in Laa College (a testament to  what the various auto, OLA, uber drivers call our college, not a typo) and other features that we will be introducing in the coming days. (On a side note:  if you have an idea for a column – movie reviews, rants, things to do in Bangalore,  write to us maybe.)

But, coming to the burning question – why, you ask, will I read an article on Quirk, when I have thousands of pending articles to read, that aren’t actually written by that annoying know-it-all from my batch?

Because Quirk is, at the end of the day, a Law School Magazine. Even The New York Times or Scroll can’t give you stellar content about the issues that really matter to you – be it Osho’s take on the recent elections, or Aradhya’s analysis of the broken incentive structures we have for projects.These are things unique to Law School, things which form part of the collective culture we share during our five long years here. On the other hand, we have articles about larger issues – like Gyalten’s take on Trumpmania – written from the perspective of a LawSchoolite (Scroll hasn’t started using terms like faff and BT yet).

But more importantly, Quirk hopes to finally bring to an end the era of those never-ending, point getting lost somewhere after the first three messages email threads. (We’ll miss you too, Anirudh T.) Now if you think we need to introduce electives in 4th year (which we desperately need to) make your case here at Quirk, and get people talking about it. We also offer you a chance to have arguments with people that don’t ultimately boil down to ad hominem insults. Quirk was always intended to be a medium for discussion about important issues in Law School. This becomes much easier online, where both you and we can react to things instantaneously. This way, you won’t have to wait till the end of the trimester to have your say and nor will you be restricted to cribbing about our articles on Whatsapp groups.  

So yes – change is tough. And we only need to see the new Instagram logo to know how it can go terribly wrong. But done right, it can make Quirk something that we all cherish. So bear with our click-baity titles, the slightly buzzfeedy feel and  the continuous bombardment we hope to subject you to on facebook in the coming days.

Because underneath it all, we are still the same Quirk you know, love and only read in boring classes (at least now you have a good reason to look down at your crotch and grin).

Love,

The Quirk Team

P.S. If you are a strong, kannada speaking, risk taking, ass kicking individual, and are willing to join us for lunch at Roti Park, please drop us a mail. Just in case the horror stories about Roti Park are true. We’d like to delve into the ghosts of Law School, not become one.  

“The essence of policy lies in common human spaces. No matter how we differ, we all share common spaces within” – Aruna Roy

“Choice” was the big concern. I was arguing with our professor for alternatives in MPP fieldwork. We were all going to MKSS (Majdoor Kissan Shakti Sanghatan). I was perhaps the most consistent opponent to this idea. I did not want to go to arid and saline rural Rajasthan, but to the vibrant urban life of a metropolitan city. I believed that would be the best way to understand public policy, to know the intricacies of actors, ideas and institutions, to find what exactly fails when the implementation fails, to know how the government actually works, to build and be aware of perspective… I came across all of it, but only with MKSS. I am rather thankful for losing arguments and embracing this once in a lifetime opportunity. I am not saying it was all a rosy picture. I didn’t find MKSS perfect or my fieldwork completely successful. What I appreciate is the open space! This whole experience, if at all has changed anything, has made me a better listener. I am learning to see the hypocrisies within myself and around, I can critique some, can accept some and face the reality. I have become aware of possibility of a common human space, that I share with others. In this small discussion, I will make an attempt to share my personal reflections, not necessarily the experiences or learnings in any order. Perhaps, this might look fragmented, inadequately corroborated, may not make a good story, may be incomplete; but that’s not the point. 

One hall for men, other for women and common unisex washrooms was the first surprise living in SFD (School for Democracy) followed by ‘Shramadan’ (donation through physical labour) and hectic day ­long lectures. A lot of activities done here are based on certain principles or ideas. Let’s talk about Shramadan. There is no division of labour in SFD. All of us do all the work­ cleaning utensils, rooms, toilets, campus, cooking etc. Every day, your group is assigned one task and rotation makes sure that you do all sorts within a week. There is no division of labour. I didn’t like this initially. A lot of jobless people around could do it. We, if not SFD, would be happy to pay for it. What’s the point if you’re all tired throughout the day, can hardly concentrate in class or do something creative? It didn’t take long to realize that this whole exercise was about dignity of labour. I talk of equality, dignity; do I mean it? Wasn’t there shame and disgust in cleaning toilets? Did I value physical labour­ really equally­ as desk work? I probably didn’t. Working with my group, getting out of comfort zone and putting effort for community­ I think I got closer to reality. Shramadan­ however discomforting and tiring­ somewhat worked.

Sometimes, living in SFD with the community could be a funny task. Here, you do good work and expect that people will do good for you. Your self-interest is brought closer to community interest. The reason why I call this funny is twofold­ first, this altruism doesn’t work in your favour, second­ paradoxically, you start liking the concept of private property. Let’s take an example of washing plates after lunch. You wash your own plate and keep it in rack. You expect that you will get a clean plate next time. I know several people who never cleaned their plate carefully and enjoyed other clean plates next day, whereas those (like me!) cleaning it every day sometimes had hard luck finding one. So, you tend to believe in the concept of private property. You want to own the plate, you want the same every time, you want the same mattress every night, you want to claim ownership, but you can’t. So, what do you rely on? You then rely on the State. You want SFD to ensure that everyone washes their plate well. But, accountability doesn’t necessarily always work.

Although MKSS has every justifiable reason to advocate pro-poor policy, I could not understand certain practices. We cannot wear shorts on fieldwork, but we drop pants and poop in the open. We wilfully pollute. When there are toilets available in rich village houses, we don’t ask for their help. When there is a vehicle available, we don’t take lifts. Whenever there is some comfort, something that adds to our efficiency, we deliberately choose a more difficult way­ all in the name of experiencing reality. Is suffering ourselves so essential to understand the suffering? What’s the logical limit of ‘experiencing’? To answer this question, I quote one of our lecturers at SFD.

“If the world really needs to be only understood through experience, science would not exist. Social science won’t exist at all.” -­ Satish Deshpande

We are very different from the people living here. It is obvious that we will notice differences; there would be tremendous pressure on them to practice the ideal. Every small thing will create questions, expose hypocrisies or build a new perspective. I have observed that people who have joined MKSS­ barring a few exceptions­ are those who personally faced injustice. Unless you are denied basic facilities and deprived of what you deserve minimum, you probably would not enter the lifestyle of MKSS. They have been impoverished and are often indifferent to luxuries. Most of them are distant from conventional materialistic pleasures. They fight on principles, not just for benefits. They have compelling reasons to do so. So, I ask­ is it about being indifferent to pleasures indeed? Am I missing the point? I guess I am. Naurti Devi­ the courageous superwoman Sarpanch­ said something that clarifies­ this:

“I might have learnt, got literate. Not my education, but my courage and passion make me what I am. We (herself and many other activists and supporters) are in pain. So we understand the pain of others. Pain alone drives us to bring change.­”-Naurti Devi

There couldn’t be a better answer to why I am living here. SFD life is not perfect, not ideal. It is not meant to be. It is an attempt, a step to draw inspiration from their stories. I don’t need to be extremely uncomfortable, but this little lack of luxury­ which makes me at least work for myself with my community­ is a driver for the change. There is significant difference between feeling sympathetic to “them” and feeling what drives them and why. There are hypocrisies, but living here is a step forward.

I was born a Chitpavan Brahmin, supposedly the highest caste and sub-caste in our Maharashtrian community. Although financially weak, I enjoyed certain privileges because of social status. At the same time, I believed in equality and talked about it. It was always about ‘they should not be discriminated against’, ‘we are all equal’ stands. Elsewhere-ization of caste existed vividly. Living in Dalit Bastis, eating in Bunkar and Rajput houses, I heard stories. I witnessed the brutality and ruthlessness of the so-called upper caste, upper class. Feudal forces, lying with bureaucracy and political leadership, were cruel to the extent of using violence­ merely to stop a Dalit wedding, deny someone food or cut someone’s water supply. I often coated caste with its cultural aspect, but it is essentially a socio-political identity. Learning through their real-life experiences, I hope I not only believe in, but also try to practice equality. I have privileges and I should acknowledge them. If I do not discriminate, I need to not only avoid it in particular incidences, but also in thoughts, in assumptions and in relationships. I note what Satish Deshpande said in class­:

“Discrimination presupposes that you are not being discriminated on justifiable grounds. It is difficult to prove, as evidence is difficult. Discrimination is a relational concept. Discrimination presupposes social support based on popular prejudice. It is not some event observed just once, it is something in practice.”-­ Satish Deshpande

The other day, we were ‘taken’ to the MGNREGA site and given a task of digging around 40­ by 60 feet cubicle pit. Although for just four hours, we worked arduously. Working with axe and shovel, with dust and dirt, with sweat and blood, I felt ‘useless’ throughout. I don’t have the physical capability, manual skill or the spirit of working in community. It re­affirmed, rather asserted my beliefs towards dignity of labour, skill in physical work and decency in work. Unlike a typical office job, we developed a sense of compassion and belongingness naturally in the process. It was not competitive (however, we made it so) but an accommodative, collective work. We all felt the same pain, same level of belongingness. Perhaps, this is a reason why impoverished, neglected and exploited people come together more often than white-collar middle­ class. Tragedy brings people together and gives them strength to fight.

Beyond physical pain, this was more of a learning experience for me. MGNREGA workers are one of the exploited workers we came across. Unlike any other work I have heard of, their work is measured dually­ task completion as well as time commitment. They hardly get full payment, have to do intense physical work, lack any insurance or medical aid, are given absolutely zero facilities at workplace and have no decision making power in the use of technology. Well, I understand that MGNREGA is not an employment generation program, but more of a short-term solution to the crisis. Yet, if this government run program exploits them so much, doesn’t it legitimize private contractors to follow the same? Isn’t the government legitimizing the brutality of an employer who pays no more than minimum possible wage? Talking of minimum wages, I have noticed that some of worst policy problems here are also with definitions. Wage, poverty level, compensation, pension, relief, grant­ all are measured in absolute terms. Most of the figures are not inflation proof and hold no value in today’s times. Isn’t it more desirable as well as practicable to define them in ratio? If we have pay commission and dearness allowances to revise salary of government employees, why can’t we take realistic stand on transfer payments as well? Although MGNREGA is not creating assets, although it suffers from corrupt practices etc., it is unjust to take it off without assuring an equivalent alternative­ through state policy or market. Poor people working on MGNREGA are not there for side income, but for survival. Even when we say labour may get paid better in industry or as migrated labour, it is untrue. If they do, we won’t see private players crying over the paltry amount government spends on MGNREGA. Unlike private or PPP entities, the state has ultimate responsibility and is accountable to people. People are not mere beneficiaries of these policies, but they own the resources. State is in the business of facilitating this ownership in a just fashion. That is why, state must ensure basic right to food, healthcare and work to life.

Through various lectures and the ideas being imposed at SFD, there is substantial reason to believe that MKSS and SFD are pro-poor organizations. There is a conspiracy theory that these kind of fieldworks are attempts to brainwash us. It was very popular for some time and looked very attractive. Again, Aruna Roy clarified and I agree with her­

“The right-wing, pro-capitalist agenda is anyway prevalent. We are doing a conscious attempt to show you the other side. We may sound left sympathizing, but we are essentially pro-poor. MKSS and SFD are not stubborn close­ minded groups, but they are making consistent effort towards equality and egalitarianism. It is all about being open-minded!”-­ Aruna Roy

I appreciate this clarity. I have seen the so called pro-capitalist ones as well. I have not seen same level of clarity, honesty and humility in any right-wing agent. Even if SFD tells you only one side, it is worth it. Satish Deshpande, Kamla Bhasin, Vrinda Grover and many such eminent speakers have enriched this journey remarkably. I learn to take pride and say confidently that I believe in and mean equality. I can say that I am a feminist. As speakers like Prabhat Patnaik, Aruna Roy make us aware of the other side­ which is equally justifiable­ I tend to believe that there is hardly any correct or wrong, right or left position. Labelling is bad and destructive. The real social and political positions are nuanced, so is the public policy.

Well, I have crossed the 2000 word limit for personal reflections. I have not written a comprehensive essay or a story. I did not want to write one. It’s a long journey and there is so much more to write, so many experiences and so much of learning. For the little space, I just remember something Satish Deshpande told us, that was written on back of a new rickshaw. It says a lot about the process of development and learning.

जल मत, किश्तोमे आयी हूँ ! : Don’t be jealous, I came in installments!