Arrested Development

Students rebel because they are most alive to the meaning of freedom

- Apoorvanand

THERE is something in the age of eighteen. It knows no fear; in the fiery eyes of an 18-year-old, storms rise. It breaks all bounds, laughs in the face of death. There cannot be a better description of a student. These words are an English translation of a passage from a poem, Atharo Bochor Boyosh (The Age of Eighteen) written by Sukanta Bhattacharya, the iconic poet from Bengal.

I was reading these lines when the news came: 10 students of the Mumbai-based Tata Institute of Social Sciences (TISS) had been detained and charged.

Their crime? They had gathered in the campus to remember writer and human rights activist, G. N. Saibaba, holding his posters and lighting a few candles.

According to the police, this constituted an unlawful assembly. The institute’s administration stated that no permission had been sought.

The students are accused of spreading enmity among communities and harbouring ill will against the nation.

Incidents like this are no longer exceptional in India.

Not long ago, the Delhi Police took action against students who had gathered in solidarity with Palestine in the campus.

Whether it is Jamia Millia Islamia, Jawaharlal Nehru University (JNU), the University of Hyderabad, or educational institutions in Bihar or Kerala, students frequently find themselves in the news.

Not for their academic degrees, but for raising questions that fall outside their official curricula.

Student activism in India is not a new phenomenon.

Only this government has begun treating it as a crime. Recall the 1960s and the 1970s: whether Presidency University, Kolkata, Patna Science College, or St. Stephen’s, many bright students were drawn to the Naxalite movement.

The state responded with brutal repression, yet the appeal of the movement remained undiminished among students.

Jayaprakash Narayan—now celebrated by the very forces in power—gained his renown through the student movement of 1974.