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Elections, Voters and Vote Chori

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Concerns around electoral rolls are neither new nor partisan. Since the first general elections, India has relied on periodic revisions of voter lists, a bureaucratic exercise that is massive in scale and inherently prone to error. Special Intensive Revisions (SIRs), in particular, are designed to clean rolls by removing duplicates, deceased voters, migrants, and erroneous entries. Even election officials privately acknowledge that in a country with high internal migration, uneven documentation, and digitisation layered over legacy paper records, inaccuracies are inevitable. What has changed in recent years, however, is not the existence of these errors but the political rhetoric ascribed to them.

 

After the 2024 general election, opposition parties, led most vocally by Rahul Gandhi, began arguing that voter roll anomalies were no longer random or benign. The claim was not simply that names were missing or duplicated, but that these patterns appeared disproportionately in constituencies where the opposition was strong or where margins of victory were narrow. The framing of this allegation moved the discussion from administrative competence to intent, from error to fraud. 

 

The Election Commission of India insisted that allegations of fraud must be substantiated through formal complaints, affidavits, and verifiable evidence, not press conferences or marches—a legally sound position since the Indian election law does not recognise “vote theft” as a category, it recognises specific violations that must be proven constituency by constituency. Yet the Commission’s repeated admonishment of the “language” used by opposition leaders seems to indicate that it is more invested in protecting its image than in publicly demonstrating transparency.

 

The opposition’s evidence has not helped its own case. Some of the most widely circulated examples, including duplicated photographs in Haryana voter lists, collapsed under scrutiny when it emerged that stock images or unrelated photographs had been misused. At the same time, dismissing the entire argument on the basis of flawed exhibits risks overlooking legitimate concerns alongside exaggerated ones. To demonstrate systematic manipulation across states would require access to raw electoral databases, audit trails, and internal decision-making processes that are controlled by the Commission itself. Demanding courtroom-grade evidence from political parties while offering limited public transparency creates a circular stalemate: allegations cannot be proven without data, and data is not released because allegations are deemed unproven. In this vacuum, rhetoric fills the gap. “Vote chori” becomes a substitute for disclosure, and denial becomes a substitute for explanation.

 

India’s context is distinct because the Election Commission has historically enjoyed near-sacred status. Public challenges to its neutrality feel destabilising in a way that similar claims might not in other democracies. The risk, however, cuts both ways. If institutions respond to criticism by retreating into procedural formalism and moral scolding, they risk appearing unaccountable. If opposition leaders escalate allegations without meeting judicial standards, they risk normalising distrust without offering a path to reform. The casualty in both cases is public confidence. 

 

Ultimately, the “vote chori” controversy erodes an old consensus: the integrity of elections was beyond everyday political dispute. Restoring it requires institutions to be visibly accountable and political actors to distinguish between mobilising distrust and demanding reform. In the absence of these circumstances, India risks entering an era where elections are held on schedule, but legitimacy is always litigated in the court of public opinion.

 

Read Also: Active Voices, Absent Votes: Unpacking Voting Trends Among Students

 

Image Credits: Hindustan Times

 

Sakshi Singh 

[email protected]

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Easy Part-Time Jobs You Can Do While Studying at DU (Delhi University)

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1. Introduction – Why Part‑Time Jobs are a Game‑Changer for DU Students

Imagine you are at Patel’s Chest, sipping chai, or having a quick Maggie break with your friends at Hudson Lane, or rehearsing until late for the annual fest of your society, and then you find out that your wallet is almost empty.

This is the reality for many students at the University of Delhi. Life in DU is a lively one with numerous opportunities and a very social scene, but Delhi life can be expensive. With rent, food, travel, and the odd party here and there, that pocket money runs out quicker than you might think.

That is why students are now taking on part-time jobs. These roles not only provide you with a source of income while studying, but they also give you a taste of financial independence and develop life skills such as budgeting, time management, and professional communication. In addition, they provide an excellent experience for your resume and give you a leg up on the competition once you graduate.

The best part? Most of these Delhi University side hustles are also quite flexible, student-friendly, and can be easily done in parallel with your lecture schedules/extracurricular commitments. We explore the simple, valuable, and high-earning ways to maximize your DU life, without breaking the bank in the process.

2. What to Look for in a Student‑Friendly Job

When choosing a part‑time job as a DU student, money isn’t the only factor; your work should fit seamlessly into your academic and social life. Here’s what to prioritise:

  • Flexible Timings: Your classes, society rehearsals, and festivals take priority. Seek out and apply for part-time jobs in Delhi that are flexible and allow you to choose your own shifts or work hours that fit into your schedule.
  • Low Travel Time: A job within strolling distance of campus or WFH listings saves time and money on the daily grind. This means more time for studying, sleeping, or making friends.
  • Minimal Stress, Maximum Learning: Choose roles that are educative while not leaving you high and dry right before the exams.
  • Skill Relevance: Consider taking on a part-time job at DU that is relevant to your degree or teaches you a skill with relevance, such as communication, teamwork, or digital skills.
  • Fair Pay: Avoid gigs that demand long hours for very low wages. Your time and effort are valuable.

The best job not only provides you with an opportunity to earn extra cash and experience, but also allows you to do so without taking anything from your studying time; that way, you can easily balance between working and studying, which helps you excel positively in both paths!

3. On‑Campus & Near‑Campus Opportunities

One of the best things about studying at Delhi University is that you don’t have to go far to find student‑friendly jobs. Campus and nearby roles are numerous, and many fit well with the rigours of academia, offering a happy medium.

  1. Library Assistant: Ideal for those who prefer a quiet atmosphere and want to study at their own pace. Tasks typically involve shelving books, checking in/out library materials, and assisting students in locating resources.

Pay Range: ₹5,000–₹8,000/month.

  1. Campus Event Helper: Like any other university, DU also hosts its own cultural fests and events, such as Crossroads, Mecca, and Mood Indigo, to name a few. Stage management, ticketing, and all things logistics can be a great way to earn some money while still having fun at the same time.

Pay Range: ₹500–₹1,000/day during events.

  1. Tutoring Juniors or School Students: If you excel in your studies, then this job can be highly profitable. Usually, Everybody wants to learn English, Maths, and Science.

Pay Range: ₹300–₹800/hour.

  1. Bookstore/Cafe Jobs around DU: Kamla Nagar and Hudson Lane are filled with bookstores, cafes, and eateries that consistently hire DU students for part-time roles.

Pay Range: ₹7,000–₹10,000/month.

  1. Lab Assistant: If you are doing science and are keen on doing some research, working as a lab assistant can give you insight into academic research so that you can be prepared for what to expect later on.

Pay Range: ₹5,000–₹8,000/month.

  1. College Administrative Helper: Colleges frequently hire people during admissions or exam periods to enter data, handle student queries, and manage documents.

Pay Range: ₹400–₹800/day.

These DU campus jobs and jobs near DU campus are great because they are close, have flexible hours, and pay pretty well without affecting your GPA.

4. Online & Remote Jobs for DU Students

Online Jobs Available for DU Students. If you like to work from your hostel room, PG, or even from the library of DU. Not only do they save you on commute time, but they also give you the flexibility to carry them out in parallel with your classes.

  1. Freelance writing/blogging: Many websites and blogs need fresh, well‑researched articles. If you have good writing skills, you can earn by creating blog posts, product descriptions, or social media content.

Payscale: ₹300–₹1,000Per Article (Varies as per word count & Difficulty)

  1. Social Media Management: Young creative minds are in demand for companies, especially small businesses, that rely on someone to take over their Instagram, Facebook, and YouTube. It might be for you if trends and engagement are your thing.

Pay Range: ₹ 8,000 — ₹15,000/mo

  1. Graphic Design & Video Editing: You can pick up freelance creative projects for brands or YouTubers, etc., if you’re skilled in tools like Canva, Photoshop, and Premiere Pro.

Pay Range: ₹500–₹2,000 per project.

  1. Online Tutoring: You can teach school subjects, languages, or even prepare students for college entrance exams online. If you don’t have a setting, consider Chegg, Vedantu, and UrbanPro.

Pay Range: ₹300–₹800/hour.

  1. Transcription/Data Entry: Very Basic and flexible jobs requiring accuracy. The tasks included transcribing audio to text or performing data entry for businesses.

Pay Range: ₹150–₹300/hour.

  1. Virtual Assistant: With the same responsibilities, only usually with more time being allocated to emails, scheduling meetings, and conducting light research on behalf of a professional or entrepreneur.

Pay Range: ₹5,000–₹12,000/month.

You can work on your own terms, add to your portfolio, and get paid better than conventional part‑time jobs without having to leave the gates of DU with these freelance work for students and remote student jobs in India.

5. Creative & Gig‑Based Jobs

If you have a creative side and are also a DU student, your abilities can be a quick source of income in gig work. They are of a flexible nature, in a form that is fun to participate in, and tend to concentrate more on offering project-based or event-based payment as opposed to full-time employment, making them perfect for you (especially for students looking to supplement their studies).

  1. Event Photography/Videography: DU always has something happening (from college fests to society events to small neighborhood weddings). So you can easily integrate into that market as an event photographer. You can earn a good income if you have a decent camera and some basic editing skills.

Pay Range: ₹1,000–₹5,000 per event depending on scale

  1. Music/Dance Instructor: If you can play the guitar, sing, or dance in hip-hop or classical style, then consider teaching at local studios and community centers.

Pay Range: ₹500–₹1,000/hour.

  1. Handmade Crafts or Art Sales: From jewellery to customised artwork, DU fests and Instagram are perfect marketplaces for your creations.

Pay Range: ₹200–₹2,000 per product ( based on the complexity of the product)

  1. YouTube/Instagram Content Creation: Vlogging on campus life, study tips, and lifestyle content, among other topics, will eventually lead to brand collaborations.

Pay Range: Initially low, but can scale to ₹5,000–₹50,000/month with growth

  1. MC/Anchor for College Events: If you are good at public speaking, hosting cultural nights or contests can be a very entertaining and fulfilling experience.

Pay Range: ₹1,000–₹3,000 per show.

They may be creative jobs for students, but it is not all about the cash: they are also a way to create your own personal brand, develop yourself, broaden your network, and actually make money doing what you love as a side hustle at DU!

6. Internships That Pay (and Count as Experience)

For DU students, paid internships are a golden egg; you get to earn well while building your CV. Most of these internships are flexible enough to work with your class schedule, and some even let you work from home.

  1. Marketing Intern: Help brands with promotions, influencer outreach, or social media content writing. One of the best online jobs for creative and social students.

Pay Range: ₹3,000–₹10,000/month.

  1. Research Assistant: Work on academic projects, surveys, and data analysis in cooperation with the DU faculty or research organisations. Best for students planning to pursue higher studies.

Pay Range: ₹5,000–₹12,000/month.

  1. NGO Volunteer: Support social impact initiatives with a small stipend. May involve teaching, fundraising, or event organising

Pay Range: ₹2,000–₹8,000/month.

  1. Work as a Campus Ambassador: Promote brands like Red Bull, Zomato, Amazon, or Paytm on campus, organize events, and educate students about these brands.

Pay Range: ₹2,000–₹8,000/month + perks.

  1. Intern for Event Management: Help organize and conduct college fests, weddings, or corporate events.

Pay Range: ₹4,000–₹10,000/month.

Best places to find these opportunities?

 Internshala, LinkedIn, and the DU placement cells continually update new internship opportunities for DU students and on-campus ambassador jobs. These work roles are not only the best way to earn an income but also provide an experience through which your networking expands and will always be remembered in the future.

7. How to Find & Apply for These Jobs

Getting part-time jobs in Delhi for a DU student may seem like a difficult task, but it is not as challenging as you might think. These are the most successful media to use:

  1. College Notice Boards: Ads during festivals, admissions, and exam seasons. Some cafes, shops, and events near campus tend to post here.
  2. DU WhatsApp & Facebook Groups: Every college has groups where students share DU jobs and freelance gigs daily.

.3. Placement Cells: Placement or Internship Cells that post legitimate openings for full-time internships and part-time jobs are present in every DU college.

  1. Online Portals: Internshala, LinkedIn, Indeed, and Naukri. Com is the largest honey pot for student job searches in Delhi.
  2. Networking: Speak with upper-level students, alums, and explore campus activism groups. A large percentage of jobs are even filled through people that someone knows, before they are posted on job boards.

Top Tip: Keep a concise and up-to-date CV on hand, ready for you to apply immediately when a suitable role becomes available. Having a slim resume also goes a long way for casual or gig jobs, as it demonstrates your seriousness about the job and increases your chances of being hired.

Creating a career for yourself is all about taking initiative; the longer you wait to look, the longer it will take for you to land in a space that suits your DU lifestyle.

8. Balancing Work & Studies in DU

Managing a part‑time job while studying in DU can be rewarding, but only if you keep the right balance.

  1. Time Blocking: Assign a Time for Classes, Study Sessions, Work Shifts, and Break Time. This prevents one from intruding on the other.
  2. Do Not Overcommit: Understand the number of hours you can work without influencing your grades or well-being.
  3. Use Weekends Wisely: Weekdays will become lighter if you work longer shifts on Saturdays and Sundays.
  4. Prioritise Exams: Ask employers if you can cut back on hours or take some time off during the weeks of the most important exams.
  5. Take Breaks: Even with a busy schedule, short breaks help you avoid burnout and maintain productivity.

Working requires more of your time and energy, but that might also put you in a better position to manage your time in the first place. Balancing job & studies at DU is not about putting more time or even things on your day as much as it is about semantically managing your energies efficiently. That way, you could make some money, learn a lot in the field you are most passionate about, and still have time to actually enjoy your university experience without feeling totally drained all the time.

9. Pay Ranges & Income Potential for DU Part‑Time Jobs

The income potential for DU students varies widely depending on the type of work, skill level, and consistency.

  1. On-Campus Jobs: The salary ranges from ₹ 5,000- ₹ 12,000/month for roles such as library assistant, lab helper, or assisting with campus events in general.
  2. Freelance & Remote Work: You can earn anywhere between ₹200 and ₹1,000/hour for doing content writing, graphic design, tutoring, and social media management, depending on the demand for your skills.
  3. Creative Gigs: Event photography, anchoring, or performing arts can bring in ₹500–₹3,000 per event
  4. Internships: Marketing, research assistance, or campus ambassador roles usually offer ₹3,000–₹10,000/month plus perks.

Your student earnings in Delhi University will depend on:

  • Skill Level: If you have a specialized skill, you can earn even more money.
  • Consistency: Regular clients and steady projects boost income stability.
  • Networking: Most high-paying opportunities are often found through word of mouth, such as from seniors, professors, or alums.

With the right approach, part‑time job salaries in DU can easily cover personal expenses and even help you save without heavily depending on your family for money.

10. Legal & Safety Tips for Student Jobs in Delhi

Although landing part–time jobs for DU students is an exciting and rewarding experience, you do have to be careful not to fall for scams and unsafe situations.

  1. Do Not Fall for Scams: No real employer should ever ask you to send money so they can hire you. If they do, it’s a red flag.
  2. Obtain Payment Terms in Writing: Ensure you have concrete payment information before undertaking any work, whether via email, a recorded confirmation, or a formal contract.
  3. Research The Company or Client: If you have the company name, website, or link, read some reviews of other freelancers who worked for them and ask around to see if they are actually legitimate.
  4. Safety first: If you are working a late‑evening or night shift, please make sure to travel safely on return, only work for people that you trust, and let your friends/family know where you are.

These student work safety tips help you earn money in Delhi while also keeping safe from fraud and working in a legal and secure environment.

11. Final Thoughts – Start Small, Earn Smart

Apart from the place of study, DU is a world full of opportunities to earn while studying at Delhi University. No matter if you work on campus, freelance, or have a creative side hustle in place, the important thing is that you get your feet wet and learn along the way.

Start with simple, low‑obligation tasks to test how it fits into your schedule and areas of interest. In the long run, you might even secure higher‑paying opportunities or transform your side hustle into a career.

Use your earnings not just to save up pocket money, but also to gain financial independence, learn important lessons, and open doors for networking. Easy jobs for DU students are also considered, with the aim of not letting work overshadow academics.

With the right mindset and balance, you can earn smart, gain experience, and enjoy the vibrant DU life to the fullest.

 

Read Also: The Broke Student’s Guide to Surviving the Last Week of the Month (Without Asking Parents!)

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Campus Central

DU Proctor Issues Month-Long Ban on Protests and Public Gatherings Across Campus

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Delhi University has announced a month-long ban on protests and public gatherings across campus, citing concerns over safety and public order.

The University of Delhi has imposed a temporary prohibition on protests, demonstrations, and public gatherings across its campuses for a period of one month, according to an official order issued by the Office of the Proctor on February 17, 2026.

The circular, addressed to students, faculty members, and staff, states that all forms of public meetings, processions, rallies, dharnas, and demonstrations are “strictly prohibited” within university premises with immediate effect. The restriction will remain in force until March 17, 2026, unless withdrawn earlier.

According to the order, the decision was taken following inputs suggesting that unrestricted gatherings on campus could lead to traffic obstruction, threats to human life, and disturbances to public peace. The Proctor’s Office noted that in previous instances, protest organizers had allegedly failed to manage crowds effectively, leading to escalation and deterioration of law and order within university spaces.

The directive also references an order issued by the Assistant Commissioner of Police (ACP), Civil Lines subdivision, under provisions linked to notifications by the Ministry of Home Affairs. These regulations extend the scope of restrictions to several specific activities.

Under the order, the assembly of five or more persons for protest-related purposes has been prohibited. The use or carrying of potentially hazardous materials, including mashals, beacons, or torches, has also been banned. Additionally, slogan shouting, public speeches, rallies, and any activity that could disrupt public tranquillity or impede the smooth flow of traffic are not permitted during the enforcement period.

University authorities justified the move as a preventive measure aimed at maintaining safety and ensuring normal academic functioning across campuses. The order emphasizes concerns over crowd management and the potential spread of unrest during large gatherings.

The circular has come into immediate effect from February 17, 2026, following approval from the competent authority, marking a significant temporary restriction on collective demonstrations within Delhi University campuses.

Read Also: Understanding Ambedkar: lessons from an elective course 

 

Image Credit: Devesh for DU Beat

 

Anjali Kumari Jha

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DUB Speak

Of the people, for the people? 

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When controversy surrounds the SIR and vote theft makes headlines, how can we trust the Election Commission? And if we cannot, what does this mean for the vulnerable voter? 

Last Wednesday, Mamata Banerjee made headlines as she appeared at the Supreme Court to win “justice for the people of West Bengal”. This statement comes in the wake of the recently conducted Special Intensive Revision (SIR) by the Election Commission in Bengal. The CM’s claims of the officials being “BJP Officers” were based on the alleged unjustified deletion of names from the voter roll. Banerjee cited cases of simple name changes flagged as “discrepancies” in the system, severely reducing voter turnout.

These concerns form part of a broader set of questions being raised about the functioning of the Election Commission itself; for instance, Rahul Gandhi’s recent call-out of duplicate EPIC entries, odd constituency-wise surges, and data that is not machine-readable.

Under Article 324, the Election Commission of India (ECI) holds a public trust: to ensure that elections are free, fair, and seen to be so. Article 324(2) states that the Election Commission shall consist of the Chief Election Commissioner and such number of other Election Commissioners as the President may determine, and that their appointments shall be made by the President, subject to any law enacted by Parliament. It is therefore unsurprising that in the seven decades since the Constitution’s adoption, Parliament failed to enact such a law, leaving appointments by default in the hands of the executive.

It was in this context that Anoop Baranwal v. Union of India came before the Supreme Court. For decades, the ECI’s structure rested on convention, with appointments effectively controlled by the government of the day. This meant that the referee of the electoral process was chosen by one of the teams playing the game—a system fundamentally at odds with the idea of free and fair elections that the Commission is meant to safeguard.

In Anoop Baranwal (2023), a Constitution Bench led by Justice K.M. Joseph held that, until Parliament legislates, appointments to the ECI must be made by a committee comprising the Prime Minister, the Leader of the Opposition, and the Chief Justice of India.

A swift response followed the judgment. The Chief Election Commissioner and Other Election Commissioners Act, 2023, replaced the Chief Justice with a Union Cabinet Minister nominated by the Prime Minister, diluting the entire purpose and reconstituting appointment power in the executive.

This brings us to Rahul Gandhi’s 7 August 2025 presentation, which raises critical questions, not about the factuality of the claims but instead about the response of the ECI to file for an affidavit as its first action. 

When such allegations are verifiable, the Commission’s constitutional instinct should be to open a suo motu inquiry, invite particulars, publish methods, and report back. By demanding an affidavit before engaging, the ECI inadvertently communicated that it polices critics more readily than it audits itself.

Another response by the ECI was the adoption of a 45-day retention policy for CCTV/webcast footage. The stated reasons, privacy, the risk of maliciously edited clips, and resource constraints may not be frivolous. But the constitutional effect is stark: the evidentiary trail for retrospective audit is shortened to the point of near uselessness.

In instances like Uttar Pradesh (May 2024), Faridabad (2019), and Manipur (April 2024), video materials and on-ground visuals were key triggers. What survives in the archive determines what survives in law, which is exactly why a 45-day deletion cycle is a constitutional misfit.

This worry is not about one election cycle, one constituency, or one political party. It is about patterns: appointments that appear executive-tilted, opaque data practices around electoral rolls, truncated retention of polling-day evidence, and a defensive institutional reflex when faced with falsifiable allegations.

Another of legitimacy’s visible dents is the SIR, an exercise in which every eligible voter is required to provide documentation in order to update voter rolls, carried out in Bihar prior to state elections. The process held within a span of two months reduced the number of eligible voters from 78.9 million to 72.4 million, raising serious questions as to the reliability of the data. The Commission told the Supreme Court it would not delete any eligible voter without notice, a hearing, and a reasoned order, and that appeals exist. But when petitioners asked for a public list of those proposed to be deleted (with stated reasons) to enable an independent audit, the Commission said the law does not require such publication.

In Bengal, concerns have been raised that the process may disproportionately affect migrant residents since their documentation is often fragmented or reliant on legacy linkage with older voter rolls, a reality that has led to questions being raised about the political implications of the ECI’s actions.

The SIR last conducted in 2002 did not face this backlash. What has changed is not simply the sharpness of opposition rhetoric, but the credibility with which the ECI has now responded to such allegations, which together give rise to the paradox of democracy that becomes evident when the state, which is a creation of the people, acquires the power to decide who truly belongs to ‘the people.’ 

Modern constitutional democracies operate on the principle that the people create the state, yet the state retains legal and administrative mechanisms to determine citizenship through statutes such as the Citizenship Act and rules governing registration and further deciding whether a name is retained or struck off the voter list.

This tension becomes sharper in contexts where citizenship is complex; India lacks a single conclusive citizenship document. Passports, voter IDs, and Aadhaar function as identity proofs but not proofs of nationality. This makes citizenship dependent on a chain of documents that may be fragile, lost, or difficult to verify.

This paradox is most pronounced with migrants, rural populations, or disaster-affected communities, where administrative absence or documentation gaps are often interpreted as individual failure, shifting the burden of proof entirely onto citizens, like Assam’s NRC process, where nearly 19 lakh residents were excluded in the draft NRC because legacy documents failed to meet stringent administrative standards. This then results in wrongful exclusion from electoral rolls and affects an individual’s political existence.

Moving forward, India requires a clear, citizen-friendly documentation framework and stronger grievance redressal mechanisms, ensuring that governance does not dilute the principle that the people constitute the state, and not the other way around.

 

Read Also: Who owns the land? A history of migration in India

Image Credits: Aaj Tak

Arshia
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Anjali P
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Editorials

Who owns the land? A history of migration in India

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In a country shaped by movement, the idea of “original inhabitants” has always been more myth than history.

Who, then, is the “original” Indian? The question surfaces repeatedly in public debates, political rhetoric, and everyday conversations, often charged with emotion and certainty. Yet history, when examined closely, offers a far more unsettling and fascinating answer. India is not a civilisation built by a single people who arrived, settled, and stayed. It is a land shaped by movement. Everyone, quite literally, came from somewhere else—some earlier, some later, but all through migration.

The peopling of India is neither linear nor simple. Long before borders, nations, or even written records, early hunter-gatherers moved across landscapes that would later be called the subcontinent. They were followed, over millennia, by pastoralists, agricultural communities, traders, conquerors, refugees, and pilgrims. The story includes debated Dravidian movements, Indo-Aryan migrations, Indo-Greeks, Central Asian groups, Arabs, Persians, Turks, and Afghans, as well as Europeans under colonial rule. Alongside these were smaller yet enduring communities—Jews, Zoroastrians, and Armenians who arrived seeking refuge and made India their home.

This layered history complicates modern obsessions with ancestry and first claims. If India is a land of migrations, then belonging cannot rest on who came first but on how diverse peoples learned to live together over time. To understand India is to trace these waves of movement, each leaving an imprint on its languages, cultures, beliefs, and identities.

The earliest migration into India predates history itself. Anatomically modern humans reached the subcontinent from Africa around 60,000–70,000 years ago. Archaeology and genetics suggest a slow dispersal of hunter-gatherer groups across the region, forming the deepest and most widespread layer of Indian ancestry. These early populations were not culturally uniform, nor were they stationary; movement and adaptation were defining features of life in the prehistoric subcontinent.

The idea of a distinct Dravidian migration is far more contested. Earlier colonial scholarship proposed a “Dravidian race”, but historians today reject such racial frameworks. As Romila Thapar has argued, “Dravidian” is best understood as a linguistic and cultural category rather than a biological one. Whether Dravidian languages spread through migration or internal cultural diffusion remains debated, and the absence of clear archaeological breaks cautions against simplistic migration models.

The Indo-Aryan migrations, by contrast, are more securely traced through linguistic and textual evidence, though they were neither peaceful nor uniform. Beginning around the second millennium BCE, Indo-Aryan-speaking pastoral groups entered northwestern India, encountering established agrarian societies. The Rig Veda itself records conflicts over land, cattle, and resources, suggesting friction as well as interaction. Yet it is precisely through these tensions, conflicts, accommodations, and syntheses that early social hierarchies, ritual traditions, and political formations emerged. The Vedas were not the product of a single migrating people but of prolonged encounters that laid the foundations of what would later be recognised as early Indian civilisation.

From the early centuries BCE, India emerged as a crossroads of transcontinental movement, where armies, traders, and entire ruling elites entered the subcontinent and stayed. The Indo-Greeks were among the earliest of these new arrivals. Following Alexander’s campaigns, Greek-speaking rulers established kingdoms in northwestern India, minting bilingual coins in Greek and Kharosthi and patronising local religious traditions. Menander I (Milinda), for instance, is remembered in Buddhist texts such as the Milinda Panha as a ruler deeply engaged with Indian philosophical thought. Their presence did not displace Indian culture; instead, it produced striking hybrids in language, governance, and art.

This pattern continued with successive Central Asian groups such as the Scythians (Shakas), Kushans, and later the Huns. The Kushan Empire, stretching from Central Asia deep into northern India, exemplified cultural synthesis at its height. Kushan rulers adopted unmistakably Indian royal titles such as Maharaja and Devaputra (Son of God), while their coins depicted a remarkable pantheon—Greek, Iranian, Buddhist, and Hindu deities side by side. Images of Shiva (often labelled Oesho), along with Buddha and Mithra, appeared on Kushan coinage, signalling an accommodation rather than rejection of local beliefs. It was under Kushan patronage that Gandhara art flourished, producing the earliest anthropomorphic images of the Buddha, shaped by Greco-Roman artistic conventions.

As historian Upinder Singh notes, India’s political history reveals a recurring pattern: outsiders became insiders. Migration, in this context, was not a rupture but a historical process, one that transformed both newcomers and the societies they ruled, forging a syncretic culture that became a defining feature of the subcontinent.

The arrival of the Mughals in the sixteenth century complicates any simple understanding of migration and colonisation in India. Though of Central Asian origin, the Mughal rulers did not remain an external ruling elite. Within a few generations, they governed from Indian capitals, relied on Indian agrarian revenues, and embedded their authority within local political structures. Persian functioned as the language of the court, but administration operated through established Indian systems and regional intermediaries. Emperors such as Akbar forged durable alliances with Rajput elites through marriage and service, while later Mughal princes were born and raised entirely in India. Imperial culture reflected this rootedness: Mughal architecture fused Timurid forms with indigenous traditions, court ateliers blended Persian and Indian aesthetics, and Sanskrit texts were translated into Persian to circulate Indian knowledge within the empire. Migration here evolved into settlement and identification with the land.

British colonial rule marked a decisive break from this pattern. European officials, soldiers, and traders arrived not to integrate but to govern from a distance. Authority rested on bureaucratic control rather than cultural accommodation. Through censuses, legal codification, railways, and centralised administration, the colonial state reordered Indian society, fixing identities that had earlier been more fluid and embedding the subcontinent within a global imperial economy. Migration under colonialism thus reshaped India structurally rather than socially.

The most violent migration accompanied independence itself. The Partition in 1947 triggered one of the largest forced movements of people in modern history, displacing millions and inflicting lasting trauma. Unlike earlier migrations that unfolded over centuries, this rupture hardened borders and identities almost overnight, marking a painful culmination of India’s long history of movement.

Read Also: The Reformed Identity of Bengal: Tracing the History of an Exodus

Image Credits: “Belgians fleeing” by Leo Gestel

Madhav Choudhary
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DUB Speak

The Sensationalisation of “Authenticity”: Reading Sivakami Today

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In Dalit literary aesthetics, the assertion of authenticity, grounded in lived experience (anubhava), collective memory, and a radical historical consciousness, was an act of political reclamation. However, as these texts have transitioned into global publishing markets, academic syllabi, and translation circuits, the concept of authenticity has undergone a transformation. What began as a tool of liberation is increasingly becoming a commodity of legibility, where the “Dalit voice” is often trapped within a rigid aesthetic demand for a specific kind of trauma, narrowing the scope of literary possibility and inadvertently reinscribing caste hierarchies.

 

Sharan Kumar Limbale, in his book Towards an Aesthetic of Dalit Literature, argues that Dalit writing is inseparable from anubhava, yet he sharply distinguishes this from a mere documentation of pain. For Limbale, Dalit literature is a historically situated literary practice shaped by protest, negation, and ethical urgency. Authenticity does not reside in the graphic accumulation of atrocities, but in the political clarity with which caste structures are exposed.

Mainstream reception, however, often traps the Dalit writer in what Gopal Guru identifies as the role of the “supplier of experience.” In this paradigm, the Dalit subject provides the raw data of suffering, while the labour of theory and interpretation remains the domain of the privileged reader or academic. This division of intellectual labour reduces Dalit texts to ethnographic artefacts. When autobiography is canonised as the only authentic mode of Dalit expression, formal experimentation comes to be viewed as “lesser” or “diluted”. The reader’s social location further exacerbates the “sensationalisation of authenticity”. For many upper-caste and global audiences, reading Dalit literature becomes a form of pity cleansing, an empathetic engagement that allows the reader to witness trauma without necessarily surrendering their own caste capital. 

Critics further complicate the issue by questioning the notion of an objective experiential reality. He suggests that memory is not a neutral retrieval system but a creative, mediating process. When critics overemphasise authenticity as a transparent record, they ignore the fact that perception always mediates reality. By demanding an unmediated truth, the institutional gaze denies Dalit writers the right to the subjective interiority and psychological abstraction that define the human condition. Authenticity, then, becomes a political project to assert a palatable legitimacy. It becomes a voyeuristic exercise where the “heaviness” of a text is equated with its “authentic” value or capacity to reproduce objective reality. This demand for a unified narrative of injury flattens the internal complexities of Dalit life, ignoring the heterogeneity of sub-caste identities, gendered internalities, and the mundane joys or ironies that exist alongside systemic oppression.

Sivakami’s The Grip of Change represents a radical departure from these rigid expectations. Sivakami’s significance lies in her investment in the power of imagination to resolve the ambiguous nature of the real. She refuses the role of the humble witness, instead using fiction to navigate internal community hierarchies and the “incivil” intersections of Dalit patriarchy.

By moving into the realm of the “unreal” or the speculative, she breaks the “sensationalisation of the real” that characterises the trauma-memoir. Her writing exposes a crucial tension: while earlier critics sought to ground the text in the fact of caste, contemporary writers of the genre use style and artifice to show that the “fact” of caste is also a complex, psychological haunting that cannot be captured by data alone.

This obsession with authenticity leads to the neglect of formal experimentation. When a Dalit writer experiments with satire, surrealism, or non-linear narratives, they are often accused of distancing themselves from the “authentic” Dalit condition. This leads to a flattened literature where the medium is treated as secondary to the message. This flattening is exacerbated by the limits of translation. As texts move into English, the linguistic aggression and incivility that Limbale advocates for are often polished into a standardised, mournful prose. They enter a global literary economy that values exotic specificity. This is often signalled through the italicisation of the vernacular: caste names, kinship terms, and slurs are visually marked as “other”. While publishers argue this preserves cultural nuance, it often functions as a spectacle of difference, signalling to the reader that they are entering a foreign world of deprivation rather than a structural reality that involves them.

To move forward, the critical gaze must shift from the consumption of trauma to an ethical literary engagement. This requires acknowledging that the “fact” of caste is not merely a data point of suffering to be extracted by the privileged, but a complex psychological and structural haunting that demands a diverse range of formal responses from the visceral testimonial to the radical imaginary. By moving beyond the liminalities of authenticity, we allow it to exist as a sovereign knowledge system—one where style, artifice, and silence are recognised not as compromises of truth, but as sophisticated tools of resistance.

Read Also: Understanding Ambedkar: lessons from an elective course

Image Credits: The Lakshmi Mittal and Family, South Asia Institute Harvard Universit

Sakshi Singh

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Understanding Ambedkar: lessons from an elective course

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Lessons from the Elective Course explores the Delhi University paper’s continued relevance today, demonstrating how Ambedkar’s ideas on caste, democracy, feminism, and social justice continue to challenge and inform contemporary debates.

In a moment when Ambedkar’s legacy is being relentlessly appropriated across the political spectrum, Delhi University’s paper Understanding Ambedkar acquires an uneasy relevance. The contemporary debate surrounding UGC guidelines on caste equity has further heightened this urgency: caste politics and Ambedkarian thought are inextricably linked, regardless of institutional attempts to sanitise one from the other. My engagement with the paper was intellectually uneven, characterised by stimulating readings and conceptual breakthroughs, yet weakened by pedagogical fragility–a classroom experience that nonetheless yielded powerful theoretical insights. This contradiction mirrors Ambedkar himself: complex, difficult to contain, and resistant to being flattened into ideological comfort. To “understand Ambedkar” is not to canonise him, but to confront the discomfort his ideas generate— regarding caste, power, nationhood, gender, and democracy. It is this discomfort, rather than consensus, that truly defines his relevance.

Critically Reading Understanding Ambedkar

The paper offers scope for genuine critical engagement precisely because of its reliance on primary sources—Ambedkar’s own books, essays, Constituent Assembly debates, and speeches. This direct encounter with his voice enables students to engage with his thinking on society, economy, history, politics, and democracy without excessive mediation or interpretive filtering. One of the paper’s most valuable intellectual interventions is its decisive dismantling of the myth of Ambedkar as a demi-god. He emerges instead as a rigorous, evolving thinker—brilliant, yet not infallible; transformative, yet marked by intellectual limitations, including constrained readings of history and selective analytical frameworks.

This makes the paper equally important for two opposing constituencies: those who revere Ambedkar uncritically and those who dismiss him ideologically. Both are compelled to confront their caricatures. However, the paper’s omissions remain structurally indefensible. There is no substantive engagement with reservations or affirmative action—central to Ambedkar’s political praxis. The absence of a serious treatment of Ambedkar–Gandhi relations further weakens the framework. Most indefensible of all is the exclusion of Annihilation of Caste as a core text. A paper titled Understanding Ambedkar without it is not merely incomplete; it reflects a fundamental failure of academic judgment.

Ambedkar as a Feminist

Ambedkar can be read as a proto-feminist in the deepest political sense—not through symbolic gestures, but through structural interventions in law, social reform, and institutional design. His sustained work on women’s education, labour rights, marriage, inheritance, and legal equality constitutes one of the most comprehensive early frameworks for gender justice in modern India, unmatched by most nationalist contemporaries. Sharmila Rege’s intervention highlights that feminist thought in India has long marginalised Ambedkar, even while canonising figures such as Gandhi and Nehru. She locates this erasure within nationalist historiography and academic co-optation, where Dalit politics was absorbed without engaging its epistemological challenge. Rege argues that caste and gender cannot be analytically separated or simplistically equated; violence against Dalit women is neither merely “caste atrocity” nor solely “sexual violence,” but a structurally entangled condition. Reclaiming Ambedkar, for her, means rejecting binaries of sameness and difference and recognising graded caste patriarchy as a distinct system. Consequently, a feminist turn to Ambedkar becomes not symbolic inclusion, but a theoretical reconstruction of feminism itself through an anti-caste lens. The most significant institutional expression of this feminist vision was the Hindu Code Bill—Ambedkar’s most radical and far-reaching intervention for women’s emancipation. This bill sought to dismantle the legal foundations of Brahmanical patriarchy by reforming marriage, inheritance, property rights, divorce, and adoption, directly challenging the sacred authority of Hindu personal law. For the first time, women were recognised as legal subjects rather than custodial dependents within family structures. 

Ambedkar as a Historian: Limits of His Historical Method

Ambedkar’s engagement with history, unlike his work in law, economics, or constitutional theory, represents one of the weaker dimensions of his intellectual legacy. Trained historians often encounter significant methodological challenges in his historical writings. Although his rejection of racial explanations for caste and untouchability was a critical and progressive move, the alternative frameworks he constructed are analytically fragile. For instance, his theory of “Broken Men” as the origin of untouchability lacks empirical grounding and relies more on speculative reconstruction than historical evidence.

Much of Ambedkar’s reading of ancient India is shaped by an overly theological framework, reducing complex social processes to a binary struggle between Brahmanism and Buddhism. This religious reductionism flattens historical plurality and substitutes social history with moral conflict. His essay Buddha and Karl Marx exemplifies this problem: in attempting to discredit Marxism, he advances ahistorical claims—such as the absence of non-Kshatriya kings before the rise of Buddhism—that are demonstrably inaccurate. These are not interpretive disagreements but factual distortions.

It is unsurprising that professional historians have largely refrained from engaging deeply with Ambedkar’s historical scholarship. His historical method is frequently speculative, ideologically driven, and weakly evidentiary. Ambedkar’s enduring significance resides not in his historiography, but in his political theory, constitutional vision, and anti-caste philosophy—domains where his intellectual rigor remains both defensible and transformative.

Caste — Jaati Jo Kabhi Nahi Jaati

Ambedkar’s discourse on caste remains as urgent today as it was seventy-five years ago. Constitutional guarantees of equality, by themselves, have never been sufficient to dismantle caste as a lived social reality. Law can prohibit discrimination; it cannot erase social reproduction. In recent years, caste pride among the youth has not only resurfaced but intensified, circulating through digital cultures, identity politics, and performative assertions of “heritage,” revealing how caste mutates rather than disappears.

It is within this context that the current controversy surrounding the UGC guidelines on caste equity must be considered. The resistance to institutional recognition of caste is not a neutral demand for “merit” or “universality,” but a political anxiety regarding structural privilege. The paper Understanding Ambedkar becomes particularly relevant here, as it exposes how caste politics is consistently lethal; however, the refusal to recognise caste as a problem is equally dangerous. Ambedkar argued that annihilation requires more than constitutional text—it demands social consciousness, institutional courage, and moral confrontation. Without that, caste does not die; it only changes form.

Read Also: The queer case of dalit queers

Image Credits: Library of Congress

Madhav Choudhary

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The queer case of dalit queers

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Who do we see when we think of an Indian queer person? Whose voices are centred and who has to blend in quietly? Whose queerness makes the cut?

The most that many dominant, urban queer spaces in India can manage to address is the concept of intersectionality. Tote bags quoting Maya Angelou’s “We are not free until we are all free,” or lapel pins of Ambedkar placed next to a pride flag, often represent the outer limit of savarna queer politics. This frequently produces a performance of inclusivity— an image of joy, safety, and community—without sustained engagement with how caste continues to structure access, voice, and legitimacy within queer spaces themselves.

Queer spaces and collectives do offer a great deal, particularly to students and young people newly arriving at an understanding of their gender and sexuality. These spaces promise, at the very least, that one will not be discriminated against for being queer. They offer affirmation, vocabulary, and recognition. For those raised in unsafe or hostile environments, queer spaces can feel like the first place one can rest. Yet inclusion alone cannot be mistaken for equality. Formal membership does not automatically guarantee fair treatment, equal benefits, or the absence of hierarchy. Being allowed into a space does not mean being centred within it.

Queer theorists have long challenged the notion of complete internal solidarity within these spaces. The histories of the modern LGBTQ+ movement are rooted in bars, discos, urban commercial spaces, and academic institutions in the West. Though often well-intentioned, this meant that institutionalised queer theory and politics were disproportionately shaped by the people with access to capital–wealthy, white, cisgender men. In Fear of a Queer Planet, Michael Warner includes a correspondence touching on this: “As a gay man of colour, I find certain aspects of my identity empowered within the space of an ethnic family, and others negated within the same space. I fall in between a split between the ethnic family and the white gay man.” The problem, then, is not difference, but which differences can define queerness.

This early shaping of queer movements offers an explanation for the racism that has historically marked queer spaces. Asian-American men were stereotyped as passive or feminine, and Black men marked as aggressive were not marginal accidents but structural outcomes of who was allowed to shape queer desire and politics.

Social movements often arise from shared experiences of structural inequality, insufficient access to resources, and collective identity. During the AIDS crisis, discrimination and state neglect were experiences that cut across queer communities. In contemporary India, however—particularly within elite urban, savarna-dominated spaces where decriminalisation and corporate anti-discrimination policies are increasingly the norm—queer spaces function less as sites of survival and more as sites of identity formation.

This idea of collective identity comes with several nuances. Many queer spaces attempt to build community through cultural experiences and queer media. The savarna queer community here often remains blind to the role caste has played in shaping their queer experience. Wattpad and AO3 crushes, Tumblr conversations with other savarna queers, and eventually coming out at home are some of the narratives I have encountered repeatedly. They find solidarity in the freedom of performing their queerness—through thrifted clothes, niche artists, and cultural references. Silently, there is little space for inclusion for an Indian queer not already acquainted with the queer movement via their networks, early internet access, and wealth. A standard of queer episteme, sensitivity, and ‘style’, achieved through your upper-caste background, becomes the norm. You risk being seen as insensitive, uncultured, or unsure of yourself.

A savarna friend once told me that his mother would rather he be gay than marry someone from a “lower” caste. This is telling.  As Akhil Kang argues, caste works through ideas of purity and pollution, and queerness is absorbed into this logic. A savarna gayness can be accommodated as long as it does not threaten caste boundaries. The “dirty” queer, then, is not the gay son, but the Dalit partner.

Yashica Dutt speaks of the performances a Dalit must make every day, particularly in savarna spaces and educational institutions. Being Dalit is a constant performance of class, culture, and effortless wealth. The same is true for the Dalit queer. 

Indian queer histories existed long before contemporary movements—Hijras and other gender-diverse communities have lived and been marginalised for centuries. Yet it was only with the influx of Western frameworks that sections of the savarna population began to make peace with queerness. “Queer” became upper-caste queer, no longer poor, lower-caste, or “abnormal.” It became acceptable.

Warner denounces queer political aspirations that restrict themselves to anti-discrimination. The politics of a queer planet, he argues, must be far-reaching—encompassing healthcare, care for the elderly, housing, and access to rights. What savarna queer spaces in India often miss is the disproportionate access within the queer community. Realities of social exclusion, acceptance at home, and lived queer experience are ruled out. Being queer itself becomes tied to savarna experience, and so being a political queer becomes tied to savarna political aspirations.

This is not to scorn queer savarnas as immoral. There is a recognition of caste as an institution that needs to be abolished. But Dalit political aspirations are not placed at the forefront. 

Much of this engagement appears to stem from savarna guilt. Often, the only intersectionality offered is one that imagines the Dalit queer solely as a victim—a fictionalised figure living on the edge of poverty and violence. Kang critiques intersectionality itself when it freezes Dalit queerness as suffering rather than agency.

Assertions against caste oppression, patriarchy, and heteronormativity are not new. In recent years, certain articulations of Dalit identity have taken the form of pride. Ginni Mahi speaks of the importance of overcoming the shame attached to her caste and asserting pride in being called a Chamar. The transformation of shame into assertion disrupts norms in deeply queer ways. 

One of the anxieties that Dalit queerness produces is the expectation that queerness must come from certain imagined bodies and performances. It ignores the possibility that anti-caste struggle itself is inherently anti-patriarchal and anti-heteronormative. 

Within university queer spaces, therefore, what we need isn’t just inclusion. It is reckoning with the terms on which Indian queerness exists.

Read Also: Taking off the Blindfold : Uncovering Caste in DUSU

Image Credits: Times of India

Anjali Paruvu

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Former DUSU President Ronak Khatri Challenges DU Over Withheld Law Degree

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Ronak Khatri, former DUSU president, has challenged Delhi University over the withholding of his LLB degree due to alleged dues of ₹10 lakh, prompting a legal dispute with the University.

Khatri, representing the NSUI party, was officially elected as the president of the Delhi University Students’ Union (DUSU) for the 2024–25 session. He completed his three-year LLB degree from Campus Law Centre in 2025 and demitted office from the post of DUSU president in August the same year.

However, even after fulfilling the required criteria of attendance, payment of fees, and semester examinations, the University refused to issue his degree and official mark sheets because of the alleged outstanding bills. The bills in question were from bookings made for the International Guest House between February and August 2025, including catering expenses.

Khatri allegedly stated that these bookings were made for official student union events after obtaining prior approval from university authorities and under the supervision of the staff adviser. According to him, these actions are unjustified, since the expenses were meant to be cleared from DUSU funds.

The issue, however, is that the DUSU staff adviser, Surender Kumar, denied granting approval for booking the International Guest House. “International Guest House does not fall under the venues permitted for DUSU activities that can be paid from the DUSU fund. No approval was given by me for such bookings,” he claimed. Meanwhile, Khatri questioned why he was informed about the outstanding dues of nearly ₹10 lakh only after his tenure was over, and not earlier. “No bills were provided when I was president, but after my tenure ended, I was told that these bills have to be paid by me as I was the president,” stated Khatri.

He completed his degree in 2025, and it is provisionally required for his enrolment with the Bar Council of Delhi. While his classmates reportedly received their degrees in October, the staff adviser wrote to the Controller of Examinations directing that the release of his degree and mark sheets be withheld until the pending payments were cleared. Consequently, Khatri was not issued his academic documents.

He has since filed a petition before the Delhi High Court, and a notice has been issued. In an interaction with the Hindustan Times, Khatri described the action as “arbitrary” and said it constitutes mental harassment of students. He further stated that the delay in receiving his degree has jeopardised his career prospects.

The matter is now scheduled to be heard in March, as per the notice issued by the High Court.

Read Also: Violence Erupts at Arts Faculty Protest: Journalist, Students Allege Assault 

Image Credits: The Indian Express
Ipshita Grover
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Violence Erupts at Arts Faculty Protest: Journalist, Students Allege Assault

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A pro-UGC protest turned into a scuffle between journalist Ruchi Tiwari and AISA members, with both sides alleging assault, caste-based targeting and police inaction.

 

Footage of a scuffle between student protestors and journalist Ruchi Tiwari went viral on Friday following an incident near the Arts Faculty of Delhi University during a pro-UGC guidelines public meeting. Both sides have since offered sharply opposing narratives, alleging physical assault, verbal abuse, threats and police inaction.

All India Students Association (AISA) Secretary Anjali shared her version on Instagram, condemning what she described as national media “painting her as a villain” and circulating incomplete footage. According to her, she noticed a scuffle near the protest site and saw Tiwari allegedly choking a man identified as Naveen, a Dalit journalist, while holding his phone. Anjali said she attempted to retrieve the phone when she was assaulted and briefly knocked unconscious. She further stated that AISA members tried to take Tiwari to file a complaint. Later, when Anjali went to Maurice Nagar Police Station to file an FIR, she alleged that a large mob gathered outside, engaged in physical violence, ripped clothes, banged on the police booth and issued rape threats. She also reported that her personal details, including her parents’ names and apartment location, were leaked online, leading to cyber abuse.

Tiwari, speaking to ANI, rejected what she termed “false narratives.” She said she had arrived near the Arts Faculty to cover the protest when a man allegedly recognised her from her YouTube videos and repeatedly asked her name and caste. She claimed a crowd of around 500 people surrounded and attempted to choke her, and that footage of her being chased came after she faced rape threats and intimidation. Tiwari describes herself as a ground reporter running a YouTube channel and alleged she was targeted on the basis of caste, citing taunts such as “Iska nanga naach hoga.” She maintained that multiple police officers were present during the scuffle but did not intervene, remarking there was “no protection for General Category.”

In a statement, the Akhil Bharatiya Vidyarthi Parishad (ABVP) alleged that a woman journalist associated with a YouTube channel was attacked around 2 pm while covering the protest. ABVP Delhi state secretary Sarthak Sharma claimed left-wing student activists manhandled her after she questioned protestors, further alleging that several involved were not Delhi University students and demanding strict action from police and university authorities. Meanwhile, police told PTI that a medico-legal case (MLC) has been filed and that investigation is underway. Both parties have accused the police of inadequate intervention; Anjali also claimed officers took her and fellow members’ phones to “calm down the crowd” while she was attempting to file a complaint.

The incident unfolded amid protests over the University Grants Commission’s (UGC) newly notified Promotion of Equity in Higher Education Institutions Regulations, 2026, which aim to curb caste-based discrimination in universities and colleges. The rules mandate that all Higher Education Institutions establish Equal Opportunity Centres (EOCs), equity committees, helplines and monitoring mechanisms to address complaints from SC, ST and OBC students, and fix accountability on institutional heads for compliance. The regulations are currently under consideration by the Supreme Court, which has put them on hold citing “vagueness” and potential misuse.

Delhi University Vice Chancellor Yogesh Singh urged students and teachers to maintain harmony and avoid activities that “increase mutual discord,” appealing to the university community to await the Supreme Court’s decision and maintain trust in the Government of India. The regulations have drawn criticism from sections of general category students, including a group identifying as the “Savarna Sena,” who argue that the framework lacks clear provisions for grievances from upper-caste students and could lead to misuse.

Read Also: Water Hurled at S Irfan Habib During People’s Literature Festival 

 

Image Sources

Ruchi Tiwari – https://share.google/images/UKDi9Fq5ddD5JCwlY. Shared by IANS network on Twitter

Anjali – NDTV website

 

Anjali P

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