Curtains and Curfews

Curtains and Curfews

By Eshwari R

Nestled in the University campus, the Government Women's Hostel stands as a material and metaphorical edifice of meritocracy's sheltered biases. At first glance, it promises a refuge for us female students as a measure of self-sufficiency and academic feat. However, a more intimate glance tells how its design, policies, and social dynamics mirror structural inequalities, shaped by caste and gender hierarchies.

The Architecture of Inequality

The allocation of hostel rooms perpetuates a merit-based hierarchy, deepened by the absence of adequate infrastructure for women. Overcrowded 5-8 sharing rooms leave female students studying in corridors, under hostel streetlights, or in the mess hall, depriving them of the solitude essential for intellectual focus. This disparity echoes broader neglect, rooted in conservative norms that assume women can adjust, and overlooks the need to expand women's hostels despite their overwhelming numbers on campus.

Curfews and Constraints

The policies around curfew and movement stress the restrictive, gendered nature of the hostel system. Every day, all women must adhere to a strict 7 PM curfew, a policy that doesn't apply to the men's hostels, where students are free to move across campus at any hour. Even in the early morning, we are at the mercy of the sunlight; if the weather is gloomy, the watchman insists we wait for daylight before heading out for a walk.

Men's hostels offer a stark contrast, with open gates, recreational spaces like volleyball courts, and unrestricted access to terraces; a privilege denied to us in the guise of safety. According to hostel staff, women are 'sensitive' and 'more prone to emotional distress', attesting to a locked terrace to prevent suicides.

The Politics of Basic Necessities

Infrastructural neglect defines the gendered hostel system, where even basic necessities like water become luxuries. In two of the three women's hostel blocks, broken purifiers often force students to fetch drinking water from other blocks—a task made nearly impossible after curfew, disproportionately burdening women with rigid constraints.

Caste in Shared Spaces

A former resident of our hostel, A, shared her struggles with caste-based isolation during her hostel stay, where UC and Dalit students rarely crossed social boundaries. Her requests for extra food in the mess were met with pitying looks, reinforcing the stereotype of Dalits as freeloaders.

The shared spaces of the hostel further illustrate the confluence of caste and gender. The mess hall, for instance, is a microcosm of societal ridges. The hostel serves only chicken twice a month in the name of meat options, yet when one of my Dalit roommates brought mutton from home, our oppressor caste roommate objected.

Language and Academic Evaluation

Classrooms, as institutional spaces, also reflect caste differences, especially through language. Those who speak poetic Kannada, often resembling textbook standards, are lauded for their 'pure and fluent' Brahmin Kannada, perpetuating the notion that, "ಭಾಷೆಯನ್ನೂ ಗುತ್ತಿಗೆ ತಗೊಂಡಿದಾರೆ," as M puts it — language purity becomes yet another tool for claiming caste superiority.

Even academic evaluation appears tainted by bias. G, a Dalit friend, shares an alarming situation where 13 students failed a paper during their semester exam. Out of these, 11 were Dalits, including 7 Dalit women. Despite feeling confident about their performance, they were forced to pay a revaluation fee of Rs. 3,700.

Conclusion

The Government Women's Hostel, with its locked gates, overcrowded rooms, and caste-coded mess hall, serves as an encapsulation of the broader inequities that saturate society. It promises a space for growth and learning, but often becomes a site where systemic inequalities are reproduced and reinforced. Everyday energy is a continued negotiation between aspiration and adversity. This is the contradiction of meritocracy: while it claims to reward individual effort, it often privileges those already advantaged, thus backing separateness within its system. Within our hostel's walls, merit is not just calculated; it is constructed—layered atop caste, gender, and privilege.

Eshwari R

Eshwari is a word wrangler, in an attempt to make sense of narratives — some days writing to stay grounded, other days to get wonderfully lost. A happy chai drinker and part-time blog sleuth, she is curious about films and women. Her other work has previously appeared in Agents of Ishq, Open Dosa, Neralu, Goya, and Inkspiremag.

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