Why it took an attack on Presidency College to make us stir
Let me begin with
a few necessary disclaimers. A Bengali born and raised in Calcutta, I am not
naturally given to anti-intellectualism, or even anti-elitism. I have never
claimed that my crassness must enjoy as much social entitlement as somebody
else’s refinement. I consider the Presidency College, where I had failed to get
admission, a heritage institution worth every bit of fawning. And I have
written several pieces considered critical of Bengal chief minister Mamata
Banerjee in the last two years.
Now that these
facts are out of our way, let me cut to the chase: As long as our outrage
remains selective, we will only keep getting outraged. Does not make sense? Let
me try again.
On 6 January,
2012, a group of alleged Trinamool Congress student wing members assaulted the
principal and some professors inside Raiganj government college campus in
Bengal’s Uttar Dinajpur district. The assailants, who carried Trinamool flags,
pushed the principal down the stairs and ransacked his office. Later, his
colleagues took out a procession to condemn the attack.
The same month,
the principal of Rampurhat College in Bengal’s Birbhum district had to be
hospitalised when he fainted after members of Trinamool and Congress student
unions gheraoed him for several hours. While the Trinamool leadership suggested
that the principal “fake-fainted”, Banerjee’s cabinet colleague Firhad Hakim
went on record to advise college principals to behave because “respect cannot
be demanded but earned”.
A few weeks on,
the principal of Majdia College in Bengal’s Nadia district was manhandled by
members of Student Federation of India. On 23 September, 2012, the principal of
government-run Jhargram Raj College in Bengal’s Paschim Medinipur district was
beaten up by students who allegedly belonged to the student wing of the
Trinamool Congress. He ended up in hospital with serious eye injuries.
On face value,
each of these incidents is far more damaging than the attack on Presidency
College that left a few broken glass panes and fewer injured students. Yet,
few, if any, outside Bengal remember these incidents because none of these made
front page headlines in the national media and no national channel beamed live
the teachers’ march from Raiganj.
Were these
district colleges too remote for the national press? What was the media’s
excuse when two Trinamool councillors led a violent mob into Jadavpur Vidyapith
-- a south Calcutta school next door to the university by the same name where
Professor Malabika Sarkar, vice-chancellor of Presidency College, taught Paradise Lost until recently – and beat up the headmaster following a
dispute over admissions?
Evidently, none of
these institutes compare with Presidency College — one of the few surviving
symbols of Bengal’s intellectual pride — in history and eminence. Those broken
glass panes belonged to the historic Baker laboratory where Bengali scientists
broke new ground more than five decades ago.
The fact that the
national media is generously represented by Bengali editors also helped the
outburst of national outrage. After all, could an alumnus of one of those
district colleges hog the TV cameras during the silent march and ask chief
minister Banerjee how dare outsiders barge into a college where they would not
qualify for a chowkidar’s job?
Not that the
attack on Presidency College was unprecedented. After all, among the
grey-headed CPM protesters who denounced the Trinamool vandals were those who
led a similar invasion at the same hallowed venue in 1966 at the height of the
Naxalite movement. The Leftist “activists” led by Biman Bose, now chairman of
the Left Front, set fire to the chemistry laboratory and vandalized university
property.
It is nobody’s
case to undermine or ridicule the strong sentiments the latest attack on one of
Calcutta’s most eminent institutions generated. Every bit of condemnation,
however rhetorical, is justified. But should the identity of the victim (or the
venue) and not the nature of assault determine the degree of our outrage?
Granted, that
something so brazen could happen at Presidency College reflects the extent of
lawlessness in lesser institutes, particularly outside Calcutta. Also, belated
outrage in the national media at the growing violence in Bengal’s student
politics is better than no outrage at all. If only it could as proficiently
hide our real concerns.
Remember the
brutal Delhi bus gangrape that outraged the nation like probably nothing else
in recent years? The on-camera protests that followed in Delhi and many other
cities and towns underlined the insecurity of mostly the urban middle class.
Forget lakhs of
women raped and assaulted across the hinterland, did we ever bother about the
underclass in our big, bad cities? The domestic helps who routinely turn up
battered; the vegetable vendors who are forced to pay hafta in ways only women can; or the homeless who are picked up in
the night by cops and ruffians alike?
No, it took a
middle class victim in a middle class situation at a middle class hour to shake
us up. We were outraged because we realised it could happen to us also.
Our reaction to
the Presidency College incident is no different. We were outraged that such
anarchy could touch the college where our boys and girls study. Our shock would
not be any less if, say, St Xaviers College, another prominent upper middle
class Calcutta institute, was similarly targeted.
But just like our
callousness to invisible and unreported rapes outside our class cocoons creates
a culture of rape that eventually emboldens criminals to break class barriers,
ignoring lawlessness in distant district colleges where our children would
never study only invites the menace closer home and eventually to the institute
we consider our very best. The more indifferent we are to violations that do
not directly affect us, the more frequently the criminals hit us where it hurts.
It may be too late
by the time it all begins to make sense.
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