I come from a humble, middle-class family. Mine is not a family of intellectuals or scholars. My granny used to be great story-teller, and that is how my love for stories grew since I was just a toddler. Later on, that love cultivated itself in the habit of reading books and I discovered that literature was something I loved. Therefore, that post high school, my choice of subject for further study would be literature was no surprise. I dreamed of being in one of most renowned academic institutions of the city. As life would have it, after the scheduled admission test, I made it to the department of my dreams.
When you get into a premier institution for pursuing your grads, your hopes are high. So were mine. New people. New environment. New life. Everything was exciting and a little nerve-wracking at the same time. Now that I look back, I do realize how naive I'd been! I thought of all my classmates as nice people who had read a lot more books than I have and had lives which was very different from mine.
I made a few 'friends' in the first 2/3 days. Or, I thought I did. A week into classes, I found out a group of my classmates standing huddled in corner, giggling, pointing fingers and laughing at me. I did not understand what all that was about! After that, I started noticing how this particular group would behave in strange ways around me, mimicking, pointing, making snide remarks about every thing: from the way I dressed to the way I talked. Having faced nothing of this sort before, I felt hurt more than feeling humiliated. Then there were times when they'd stamp the bench where I sat, or refuse to pass on the information regarding tests etc. It was all very hurtful. I became very conscious of the way I dressed and carried myself. No matter how many times I tried, I still couldn't figure out what was it about me that made them jibe and joke at me. After all, I too had cracked the same admission test they sat for.
Surprisingly, some from this
illustrious group of people were in the 'Anti-Ragging' cell of the varsity. I was not the only one victimized by them. There were several others in my class who bore their wrath. This continued for a while and they jeers were the strongest when it came to me. They even went ahead a created a closed group on Facebook to ridicule and crack jokes on me.
Never even in my wildest dreams could I've imagined that this would happen. That too, in an institution which was famed for accepting people just as they were and being versatile enough to accept even those who were different.
I did not know what my fault was! I don't even think I was at fault unless you count being from a different socio-economic background as a deterrent.
I was tagged as 'the blonde dumb' because I'm fair-skinned and conventionally good-looking. Mind you, I did not choose my appearance and never made a bid deal out of it.
Interestingly, these were also the people who shouted slogans against misogyny and gender inequality and everything that most 'intellectuals' shout about.
Bullies aren't born. Being a bully is a choice. In this case, it was an informed choice. No matter how many anti-ragging cells, rules and laws we set up, bullying won't cease to exist unless we uproot it from our elitist mindsets.
