So what if we deny four million people living on our land the Indian-tag, we are happy to make up in other ways. Just scan any international award-list, spot an Indian sounding name and bingo, we have our next favourite Indian. Akshay Venkatesh, a professor at Stanford University, is our current flavour of the month. After all, the “New Delhi born”, “Indian-Australian” 36-year-old mathematician is one of four winners of the prestigious Fields Medal–aka the math Nobel.
Never mind the fact that the child prodigy-turned-award winning academic migrated to Australia at the age of two with his parents. We love to live vicariously through the achievements of people we share the gene pool with. We don’t care about the achievers’ documents.
As a former teacher at India’s ‘Number One’ university, which, by the way, is nowhere among top 100, or 200, or even 500 universities in the world, I’m chagrined at this tendency to bask in reflected glory. Nonetheless, I understand this urge very well. The status of academic research in our country does not allow us many moments to rejoice, after all.
Let me revisit this oft-repeated story treading a deeply personal route.
Romance and Reality of Research
My youthful experiment with higher academic research began with M Phil. Right after my enrollment, the university decided that not all M Phil scholars were worthy of being given a stipend. The meagre sum of a few thousands per month was denied to most of us. One letter from UGC was enough to upset the young scholars’ plans. No explanations given.
It did not matter much to me since somebody else was footing my bill. Many from my batch, however, took up guest or ad hoc positions in various DU colleges to support themselves. Hark and note, as is wont in the discipline (English Literature), this batch, too, had a majority of women scholars. Many of us were struggling to keep the parental pressure of matrimony at bay by putting up a façade of financial independence.
DU has no provision for a 100% residential research programme. You fend for yourself, dealing with nosy landlords and unsafe streets.
If you get a hostel seat, thank your stars! Or, that “univ connection” of yours- a helpful uncle, auntie, or even paramour. Even if you secure one, do not make the mistake of prioritising your academic pursuits. Logistic and bureaucratic hassles come first, always and every time.
Academic Fervour Versus Administrative Fear
A batchmate, one of our finest, posted a desperate message on Facebook a few years ago. A PhD scholar then, she was on the verge of losing her hostel seat due to some admin-inflicted issues. Some paper work, some unhelpful clerks, and an apathetic bureaucratic environment—nothing out of the ordinary. I offered her to stay with me. After all, I had a neat South Delhi flat I could afford thanks to my university job (and the fact that I had no compulsion to support a family). Unlike her, I’d decided to not go the doctoral way immediately. I had battles to fight and so did she; we just chose different turfs.
Research in any university is a lonely exercise, in an Indian university it tests your mettle. How much disillusionment can you deal with at one time? What all are you willing to put at stake?
When an Indian scholar comes on her own, it is despite the university not because of it. They are the ones who don’t let their academic curiosity to be blunted by the constant struggle to get grants, stipends, or decent living space.
My batchmate did all of that. Therefore, it was heart-breaking when she posted another message on Facebbok a few weeks back on how the foreign PhD holders tend to snigger at their desi counterparts. Given half a chance, almost everyone would like to flee the dungeons of despair that most Indian universities prove to be. Not everyone has the means to do so.
Managing With Mediocrity
A scholar constantly at fight with the ‘system’ is likely to bring this fatigue to her classroom. And, let’s not forget, that fatigued lecture, too, is a privilege. Hundreds of scholars remain jobless for years.
The desperation to earn a livelihood is a breeding ground for academic malpractices where publication scams and political interventions in recruitment become par for the course. Such academic culture throttles all intellectual curiosity, leaving behind fetid mediocrity.
No wonder we have very few Akshays amidst us; and our universities, our governments are to be blamed for the same. Also, let us not romanticise the mythical reverse brain-drain, or brain gain, that our governments want to con us with. People come back to Indian universities for a host of reasons: family, health, racism, or even the availability of cheap labour. Take a professor out for a drink and learn about her reasons to be back. Rarely would you find that it was to satiate her intellectual appetite.
Our universities starve us intellectually and many of us have gotten used to hunger. And we need propaganda to revel in hunger. Here is a Garibaldi quote to mull over:
I offer neither pay, nor quarters, nor food; I offer only hunger, thirst, forced marches, battles and death. Let him who loves his country with his heart, and not merely with his lips, follow me.
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