Your Dreams Are Mine Now (23 page)

‘Hmm. You’re right again,’ Arjun says. Suddenly he’s looking at things differently—just like she showed him to. He realizes that he isn’t sad about the ebbing winters any more. And just like Rupali, he too is looking forward to the spring that’s about to surround their love.

Twenty-Three

It was Abbaas Hanif, an MLA from the ruling party in Delhi, who moved Mahajan’s bail plea. Mahajan’s aunt, a distant relative, had passed away in a remote village near the Delhi– Haryana border. Using his political muscle and through the able services of his advocate, Hanif had filed a plea that Mahajan should get bail to grieve the loss of his dear aunt.

In many ways Hanif was Mahajan’s godfather. Under his nose and with his blessings, Mahajan had gained power and flourished in DU. In return, Mahajan worked for Hanif and focused on building and empowering the youth wing of the party. But that was a few months back, before Mahajan was caught in a disgraceful act and was locked in jail. Back then, other politicians had broken all contact with Mahajan because being seen with a tainted professor would be inviting trouble. Hanif had told him to have patience.

‘Let the dust settle and I will do something for your escape,’ he had said.

Hanif kept his word, more so because he needed Mahajan. He needed him to revive the dying students’ union. He needed him because, besides Mahajan, there was no one to control the functions of the union. He had traded his escape to bring things to an order in DU politics for Hanif. Hanif knew that in Mahajan’s absence, his party’s youth wing was on the verge of collapse. And this meant trouble for Hanif’s party. As Indian politics was moving towards wooing the youth of this country, losing their hold in DU was not something they could afford at that time. Not limiting it to a bail of two weeks, Hanif had planned to keep Mahajan out of the prison for a longer time on the fake grounds of ill-health.

This certainly was opportunistic politics, but then there was no other way for Hanif and Mahajan. With the second semester due to end in just two months and the approaching final exams, they had little time left in their hands. Mahajan knew that if he didn’t act fast, he would not be of any use to the party he was loyal to. Then, he would be back in the jail. He, therefore, had no other option but to deliver results to Hanif at any cost.

Out of the jail, he assessed the ground realities and the students’ inclination towards the political parties. He also gauged the teacher association’s mindset on campus politics. He didn’t need to visit the campus for his little research. His trustworthy sources reached his house on getting the first call from him. The situation was grim, he analysed. The fact that there was not much time left in their hands, made matters worse.

Amidst all this, Arjun’s party was gaining a strong momentum in the entire university. In the past three months their campaign, based on issues like the anti-quota movement, inclusivity of students of all ethnicity—with a special focus on North-eastern students, betterment of hostels and the life of students on campus, had got the support of numerous students’ groups. The online social networking campaign had played a major role in this movement. More than 50,000 students in DU, across various colleges, had joined their Facebook page. One of the reasons behind gaining a huge number of followers in such a short time was their crowd-sourced online events that had gone viral. It was Rupali’s idea to host a tab on their page where people could report what they saw as a problem on their campus. It started as a fun activity with photographs of stray dogs having sex in the courtyard of their hostel being uploaded, but soon became an important forum. From unhygienic kitchen areas in messes, to poor Wi-Fisignal in the hostel floors, everything made its way to this page. People not only wrote about their problems, they also clicked and posted pictures as proof. While the party volunteers commented on the valid problems and included them in their agenda, the page also invited the interests of the Einsteins and Newtons of DU. They offered low-cost yet good-quality solutions to problems mentioned by other students. Time and again they reminded the students that, if the party comes to power, they should be given the first chance to fix the problems they had brought under the scanner. They asked for an opportunity to prove their mettle.

Such was the influence of this Facebook page that even the students’ union in power had started picking up on problems highlighted on the page and tried to fix them. However, they only focused on the really small issues to gain brownie points.

The page became so famous that it also grabbed the attention of the alumni of DU. This led to a new idea among the party workers—connecting with alumni and holding alumni-gyan sessions closer to the placement season.

Not only did Rupali bridge the gap between the cultural club and the party, she also brought in fresh faces to join the party; many of them were girls from her batch. She felt that their party’s gender ratio was completely skewed in favour of the boys and that there wasn’t enough representation from the girls. With her positive image, the party managed to register more than 35 per cent of girls as active members. Initially, the older party volunteers were bothered to see so many first year students joining them. They had raised the point that the lack of experience in campus politics that the first year batch would bring would dilute the party’s core team. To that, Rupali pointed out that lack of prior experience would also mean that their vision would not be clouded by the baggage of past politics.

‘Fresh minds will bring fresh ideas with them,’ she had said.

Despite all the good work she had done, Rupali never got carried away. She was clear from the first day that she didn’t want to stand for any post in the elections, even though many of her party workers suggested her name as a candidate. Her motto was clear. She wanted to work for a party that promised to make DU a better place to live in and study.

‘But what about our core issue, the fight against the reservation system?’ Madhab questioned.

The party members had gathered to refine the points on their agenda.

‘I understand that reservation is a problematic area in our admission process,’ Rupali replied to Madhab and to everyone who had gathered.

A few volunteers were already in favour of what Rupali was saying.

‘Then why are you not giving it the due importance?’ a voice in the gathering asked.

‘Because I feel the issue also has room for a healthy discussion. On our Facebook page, a number of sportspersons from this university have written about why we should not be anti-sports quota while we fight to abolish other quotas and promote meritocracy,’ she reasoned.

‘I have been saying the same thing for the past two years,’ Prosonjeet added.

‘Are we now diluting our stand on this subject? Support some quotas and reject others? That’s hypocrisy, no?’ Madhab said. A few voices supported him.

‘It’s not like that, Madhab,’ Prosonjeet argued.

‘Then why are you vouching for sports quota?’ Madhab asked back.

This time Rupali intervened to answer. She had already thought through all that she had to say. She began to speak in a composed manner.

‘Okay, so here are my thoughts. And as I said, we should hold a healthy debate on this and then follow what the majority believes in,’ she said. ‘Guys, we all need to understand why, as a party, we are against reservation. Because meritorious students miss out, right? Plus, there is the menace of students making fake OBC/ST/SC certificates to get backdoor entry, thanks to the corruption in our country.

‘In twenty-first-century India, should we continue to get privileges for taking birth in a particular caste and category? Doesn’t this whole system work against real merit? We all agree that it does and that is why we all are fighting against it. And our stand is that, for anything, the HRD ministry should abolish such quotas and rather endorse a category for economically backward students and sponsor their education. But here again, the admission should be based on merit. Students should not be differentiated on the basis of their caste but on their economical background— whether or not their parents are in a position to support their education. A poor student from a general category should deserve a sponsorship and not a wealthy SC student. But unlike other quotas, the sports quota retains the value of merit. This isn’t a quota that awards your fate of taking birth in a particular caste or sect of the society; it rightfully awards your ability to prove that you are better than others in the field of sports. You are not bestowed this privilege by birth, but you have to earn it. And this makes it a level playing field for all of us.

‘As a nation, other than the religion of cricket, we are so sports-deficient that in spite of a population of more than a billion people we only grab two to three medals in the Olympics. We need to support the initiatives to endorse sports and credit marks for it. In our fight to abolish the inept quota system, let’s not throw the baby out with the bath water.’

‘The real threat isn’t Arjun and his seasoned party members,’ Mahajan said as he finished consuming the last sip of his tea in Hanif’s drawing room.

Hanif had called him to get a status update on the campus politics and see what needed to be done in the little time they had in their hand.

‘What do you mean? If they are not the real threat, who is it then? As per my sources, those students are going to stand for elections. Isn’t this true?’ Hanif asked in surprise.

‘Yes, your information is right. But those senior students aren’t the real threat—it is that first year girl,’ Mahajan revealed in a bitter and vengeful tone. His eyes narrowed in anger as he recalled his interaction with her. In fact, Mahajan brought Rupali into the conversation to serve two purposes—nipping the revolution of abolishing the quota system in the bud and punishing the girl who had put him in this position in the first place.

‘A girl from the first year?’ Hanif asked as he opened the box of paan placed on the table in front of him.

‘The one with whom I have some unfinished business!’ Mahajan said. His eyes were glued to the surface of the glass table in front of him.

‘Oh, you mean the same girl who got you . . .’ he stopped his sentence midway. He was very pleased—if there was another motive other than just politics, it was even better.

Mahajan turned his head to look at Hanif. Hanif could see a mix of pain and anger in his eyes. ‘Yes. That same girl.’

‘Hmm . . .’

‘She has united a few key student groups in DU with her party. They now have a vast support base. And I believe she isn’t done. They will reach out to the remaining student bodies also in the coming days.’

‘What sort of student groups and bodies are you talking about, Mahajan?’

‘The music club, the theatre groups, for that matter, the entire cultural group, and not just at the college level. Things have now moved beyond a particular college. They are getting support from the entire university. The creative groups, through their events and shows, can become the voice of the party. They have a huge impact on their audience’s mind, even though they aren’t a part of the party. Not only this, my sources have updated me that she has got a lot of female students to enrol in their campaign. DU girls, so far, were not very interested in elections and voting. They are trying to sell the dream of more girl power in DU!’ Mahajan said, almost spitting the words out.

‘Damn! Mahajan. This way we will be routed in DU. Don’t we have any students’ group on our side who are willing to support us?’ Hanif asked placing a paan inside his mouth.

‘There is one. It’s not an official group, but an unofficial one constituting the boys and girls who got admitted under various quotas. That includes the ones whom we helped get in through the back door. Arjun’s party is against the quota system. Clearly, they won’t be voting for them. Picking up from Arjun’s party, now other parties are also protesting against the reservation system. So they will definitely vote for us,’ Mahajan explained.

Hanif took a few moments to absorb all that Mahajan had said. He then tried to think of all the probable ways to save the sinking ship of his party in DU. Later in the day he was supposed to meet the student union leaders and chalk out a strategy for the elections. But, for Mahajan, his right-hand man in DU, he had some sensitive and difficult tasks in his mind.

‘Then it’s clear what you should do. Polarize the atmosphere. Create tension between quota students and others. Instil fear in the minds of the students in the reservation category about what will happen if DU loses the quota system. Anyhow, in DU elections, only about 40 per cent of the entire student strength votes. The remaining 60 per cent isn’t bothered about elections. If we can get 95 per cent of the reservation-category students to come out and vote on election day, we will still have a chance. With no other party in favour of the quota, they will vote for us. But to push them to vote, you need to orchestrate a battle between them. Sell them the idea of fighting for their rights. And in this battle, if an OBC student is hurt and gets admitted in an ICU, it will only fuel the fire. The media will run a story—
Dalit boy brutally attacked in DU
. That will get our party the brownie points. You know what I mean?’