Education as the practice of freedom—as opposed to education
as the practice of domination—denies that man is abstract, isolated,
independent, and unattached to the world; it also denies that the
world exists as a reality apart from people.
— Paulo Freire, Pedagogy of the Oppressed
The Ramjas English Department, fondly called “RED” – the colour of the institution’s brick walls, the colour of passion, love and vigour – has now been made to lose eight of its ten “ad-hoc” teachers. This development isn’t new for anyone aware of the University of Delhi’s conduct over these past few years, and the precarious lives that “ad-hocism” creates for many qualified, deserving and passionate teachers. Much has been said about how this is a clear violation of the Contract Labour (Regulation and Abolition) Act (CLRA Act), 1970. Appointment rules permit the creation of such “ad-hoc” positions only by conditions necessitated in contingent situations (death, leave, etc.), and not to prolong a state of emergency in the university.
I will leave the legalities to better minds and limit – or perhaps broaden – the discourse to demonstrate who these people are: the ones who are unnamed, the ones who go on labouring under dire situations to bring education to classrooms that are packed, often with more students than there are provisions to sit; ones who make it a pleasure to sit in a class even in the summers of Delhi, in places where sometimes even fans don’t work! They patiently answer questions, engage with the curiosity and agility of youth – all the while living their tumultuous lives which do not allow the luxuries that a student enjoys.
When I went to Ramjas English Department first – only eight years ago – from Bhubaneswar in Orissa, I was greeted by these professors with joy. With their resplendent mirth, they made the unfamiliar familiar. I knew nothing about Delhi, let alone the labour dynamics in the University. I would see the “permanent” professors alongside the “ad-hocs” and never for once understand the difference – both taught us, both required degrees, what separated them? This is, perhaps, for the naive perceptions of a young student the most difficult to distinguish, and I was no exception. Slowly, and gradually, alongside classes on labour, or reading about Ambedkar’s concept of “division of labour” in class and mingling with the “ad-hocs”, one would open one’s eyes to inequalities that were present both outside and inside the classroom. The University was a space of abject inequalities based on gender, caste and class. The irony: it was the “ad-hoc” teachers who would teach us about inequalities that perhaps bore the sharpest repercussions of it.
Also Read: ‘Ad-hoc’ Teachers at Delhi University: From the Frying Pan into the Fire
These professors in Ramjas English Department comfortably ushered in not only me but many others who came from different circumstances, different cities, and wholly different worlds and worldviews: a bunch of young men and women, who had nothing in common, were taken to the new threshold of education in the truest sense of the word.
These professors had to finish their doctoral research, write papers, present in conferences, and yet miraculously also had time for that one extra reading that a student like me would have requested, or find time for lunch at D-School Canteen to give a serious answer to a question.
They treated the student with an air of profundity, made each student a citizen, an individual, a person in our own right. They chose to stay in the department even though their achievements could take them to more secure places because they had decided to give their long, productive youth to their own University – most of them are former students of Delhi University. Their passion for teaching and building required much patience, and to instill a critical, thoughtful mind in students.
Over these years, as time passed and situations changed, I have now come to be on the other side of the table: be a teacher as well as a doctoral student, and, with renewed vigour, I have gone back to them to learn, once again, how to teach. I have recollected how they have never lost patience with the naivete of our questions, our empty rebellions for the sake of it that are lost on us today, and not once punished us for disagreeing with them. They have, with utmost respectability, taught us to form our own opinions, warned us never to close our eyes to reason and dialogue.
Throughout the expanse of Ramjas’ lawns, corridors, cafeterias, and auditoriums, they have persevered to enhance our minds, showed us the delights of values – of asking the right questions, and humility to listen and have stood up for our prerogative in difficult times. I distinctly remember one of my last conversations with a professor, who is one of the eight who were forced out, asking me for a book suggestion when I had mentioned my new disciplinary training in Comparative Literature. That kind of humility is crucial for any pedagogic exchange, and one that re-situates the power dynamics between a student and teacher.
Above all, they were the ones who kept the University of Delhi up and running, each day, relentlessly. With the number of students ever-rising and the lack of even basic amenities to support them, they contributed to the daily task of running this large, gigantic edifice of education.
Despite their significant contributions, it is a cruel joke to remove them from their duties by the logic of regular appointments. My professors – our professors – worked in these institutions for several years and were appointed through legitimate, merit-based interviews. To target them in the name of ‘regularisation’ is but a trick played by those in the University’s upper echelons of power to demonstrate their ruthlessness and carelessness towards the teaching-learning processes. Didn’t they do the same thing with the History Department in Ramjas, only a couple of years ago? And did they not, once again, repeat that at Indraprastha College’s Sociology Department? These moves are part of a larger trend in favour of destroying spaces of free thought and criticality, to be replaced by ideological chaff.
Ramjas has, and will be, a safe refuge for values of freedom and liberty; a place which has repeatedly stood against lumpen beliefs and ideological histories that deny equal participation of all peoples; a place where imagination and thought shine like golden sunlight, its reflections lighting the red walls. All this was possible because my professors, our professors – who they call “ad-hocs” – made it an extraordinary place.
Abinash Dash Choudhury is a former student at the Department of English Ramjas College, University of Delhi. He is currently pursuing his Doctoral Research in Comparative Literature.