I remember the first time I saw Mirik. A small town amidst tea gardens near Darjeeling, it was really picturesque. “People who live here are so lucky,” my son said in awe as we strolled past Mirik’s lake and saw mountains of freshly-harvested oranges on the side of the road, waiting to be transported to larger markets. But we were on holiday. People who lived there had another story to tell. Though Mirik had several schools and a degree college, the general consensus among students there seemed to be that the future lay in studying in Siliguri, Kolkata or Delhi. Almost every family there had a member or two who’d migrated to bigger towns and cities for better opportunities. “My family would have been very badly off if my father hadn’t got a government job under the OBC quota,” said our driver Raj Gurung. He added that for socially- and economically-disadvantaged people, the OBC quota offered the best chance of getting educational and employment opportunities elsewhere.
Mirik has been on my mind these last few days, since I’ve been following the controversy about the incomplete implementation of the OBC quota in Delhi University (DU). Right to Information applications have shown that last year, 20 DU colleges couldn’t fill even 50 per cent of OBC quota seats. Apparently, DU follows the cut-off criterion — the difference in cut-off marks for an OBC candidate and a general candidate should not be more than 10 percentage points for quota consideration. Given that the cut-offs in the last few years have gone through the roof, many OBC seats have remained vacant, ultimately going to general category candidates on basis of “merit”.
Early this week, I met Yojana Tamang, a Mirik girl who’s been camping in Delhi the last few months for college admissions. “I’ve always wanted to study here,” she said, “back home, everyone values a degree from here. Also, this is where the best work opportunities are.” The third reason Tamang wanted to study in Delhi was to be close to her mother, who has been working as domestic help in Delhi for the last decade or so. “Although we live in a pucca house back home, there’s not a lot of money except for what my mother sends,” she said, “the only chance I have to improve my life is admission in a good course here.”
However, when she went to Delhi colleges, she found it wasn’t going to be easy. “I wanted to study Geography,” she said, “but with 62 per cent marks, almost everyone I met who was seeking admission in the course had done better than me,” she said ruefully. Eventually, Tamang got admission in a course in Marketing and Management at the College of Vocational Studies through the OBC quota. “It could enable me to get a management position in a decent company after I graduate,” she said.
Though Tamang has made it, albeit not to the course of her dreams, I can’t help but think of others like her who’ve been denied admission through the OBC quota because the university has decided to “read” the rules of quota admissions differently. Even as competitive city students now receive such focused training in the art of exam taking that even 90 per cent has become de rigueur, students like Tamang, who’ve studied in small town schools often can’t compete. Neither their schools nor families can necessarily provide them such coaching. Sadly, thanks to DU’s twisted interpretation of the quota rules, many such students haven’t secured admission even through the quotas they’re eligible for. It makes one wonder about the very merit of such reservations policies, doesn’t it?
