Students Expose Caste Bias in Top Institutions

Higher Education and Deep-Rooted Caste Divide

Jithin Valmiki (name changed) offers a chilling glimpse into the deep-rooted caste prejudice that continues to define life for countless students in some of India’s coveted higher education institutions. “The people from upper castes would touch an animal but will not touch a person like me. To them, accidentally brushing against a dog is acceptable, but brushing against me is not acceptable. I’m saying this from my own experience in life. They feel that they become impure when they touch me,” he says.

Jithin, a master’s student in a premiere college in Delhi, lays bare a distressing reality that contrasts sharply with the image of a nation poised at the forefront of technological progress, hosting G20 summits, and launching space missions. As India accelerates on the world stage, students like Jithin remain trapped in a centuries-old social hierarchy, abandoned by the very system meant to uplift them.

Jithin hails from the Valmiki community, classified under the Scheduled Caste category, and his experiences are not isolated. He, along with many others, recounts how caste-based violence and trauma have become ingrained in their childhoods and academic journeys. “For us, discrimination isn’t just an occasional encounter; it’s woven into the fabric of our daily lives,” Jithin reflects. 

Throughout the course of our story, we encountered numerous voices of members of the SC/ST and OBC communities who shared their harrowing accounts of the discrimination and caste-based bias they face, often within the hallowed halls of some of India’s most prestigious higher education institutions.

“Revealing Caste is Nothing Short of a Nightmare in College”

Aakash Arutselvan, graduated in LLB from Delhi University this August. Hailing from Tamil Nadu, Aakash comes from a family with different caste backgrounds: one parent is from the Dalit community, and the other is from the OBC community. 

Aakash brings focus to a critical issue that echoes throughout higher education: the lack of understanding among educators regarding the historical injustices inflicted upon SC/ST and OBC communities. “Many teachers are unaware of the systemic oppression that has shaped our realities,” Aakash explains, pointing to a disturbing gap in sensitivity and awareness within academic settings. 

Aakash recounts a troubling personal experience that reveals the deep-rooted discrimination within academic spaces. After posting a poster promoting a protest against the unjust arrest of a Dalit faculty member—a professor targeted simply for being Dalit—Aakash was swiftly removed from a social media group by an upper-caste admin. “I was expelled for raising my voice,” Aakash reflects. “It was clear that my activism was unwelcome because it challenged the status quo.” 

Aakash reveals the uncomfortable reality many students face when asked about their caste affiliations in college settings. “They try to ask your caste to identify you. I have faced this. I’ve been asked about my caste, and they also attempt to deduce it through our surnames,” he notes. For many students, these inquiries are more than just casual questions; they are loaded with implications that can affect their social standing and academic experience.

For some, revealing their caste feels like stepping into a nightmare. Jithin shares his own apprehensions about the pressure to disclose his Scheduled Caste status during his master’s program. “When I enrolled, I was required not only to declare that I belong to the Scheduled Caste but also to specify my category within SC. While the need for this information is often justified, the fear looms large: once we reveal our caste, we risk being identified by our teachers. 

Revealing caste is nothing short of a nightmare in a college setting,” he explains. “There’s a genuine concern that s

Higher Education and Deep-Rooted Caste Divide

Jithin Valmiki (name changed) offers a chilling glimpse into the deep-rooted caste prejudice that continues to define life for countless students in some of India’s coveted higher education institutions. “The people from upper castes would touch an animal but will not touch a person like me. To them, accidentally brushing against a dog is acceptable, but brushing against me is not acceptable. I’m saying this from my own experience in life. They feel that they become impure when they touch me,” he says.

Jithin, a master’s student in a premiere college in Delhi, lays bare a distressing reality that contrasts sharply with the image of a nation poised at the forefront of technological progress, hosting G20 summits, and launching space missions. As India accelerates on the world stage, students like Jithin remain trapped in a centuries-old social hierarchy, abandoned by the very system meant to uplift them.

Jithin hails from the Valmiki community, classified under the Scheduled Caste category, and his experiences are not isolated. He, along with many others, recounts how caste-based violence and trauma have become ingrained in their childhoods and academic journeys. “For us, discrimination isn’t just an occasional encounter; it’s woven into the fabric of our daily lives,” Jithin reflects. 

Throughout the course of our story, we encountered numerous voices of members of the SC/ST and OBC communities who shared their harrowing accounts of the discrimination and caste-based bias they face, often within the hallowed halls of some of India’s most prestigious higher education institutions.

“Revealing Caste is Nothing Short of a Nightmare in College”

Aakash Arutselvan, graduated in LLB from Delhi University this August. Hailing from Tamil Nadu, Aakash comes from a family with different caste backgrounds: one parent is from the Dalit community, and the other is from the OBC community. 

Aakash brings focus to a critical issue that echoes throughout higher education: the lack of understanding among educators regarding the historical injustices inflicted upon SC/ST and OBC communities. “Many teachers are unaware of the systemic oppression that has shaped our realities,” Aakash explains, pointing to a disturbing gap in sensitivity and awareness within academic settings. 

Aakash recounts a troubling personal experience that reveals the deep-rooted discrimination within academic spaces. After posting a poster promoting a protest against the unjust arrest of a Dalit faculty member—a professor targeted simply for being Dalit—Aakash was swiftly removed from a social media group by an upper-caste admin. “I was expelled for raising my voice,” Aakash reflects. “It was clear that my activism was unwelcome because it challenged the status quo.” 

Aakash reveals the uncomfortable reality many students face when asked about their caste affiliations in college settings. “They try to ask your caste to identify you. I have faced this. I’ve been asked about my caste, and they also attempt to deduce it through our surnames,” he notes. For many students, these inquiries are more than just casual questions; they are loaded with implications that can affect their social standing and academic experience.

For some, revealing their caste feels like stepping into a nightmare. Jithin shares his own apprehensions about the pressure to disclose his Scheduled Caste status during his master’s program. “When I enrolled, I was required not only to declare that I belong to the Scheduled Caste but also to specify my category within SC. While the need for this information is often justified, the fear looms large: once we reveal our caste, we risk being identified by our teachers. 

Revealing caste is nothing short of a nightmare in a college setting,” he explains. “There’s a genuine concern that some faculty members may treat us differently based on our caste, and that fear can be paralysing. It undermines our confidence and inhibits our participation.”

The situation is grim; Jithin observes that casteism is so entrenched in educational institutions that upper-caste students often refuse to forge friendships with their lower-caste peers. “It’s disheartening,” he says. “The caste system is so prevalent that upper-caste students will not extend a hand of friendship to someone from a lower caste.” 

What is even more disturbing, Jithin notes, is that discrimination can exist even among Scheduled Castes themselves. “I have suffered a lot and lost many friendships within the SC community. Some members would joke about me, saying I belong to the ‘sweeper community.’ While everyone acknowledges the discrimination we face from upper castes, the truth is there’s rampant casteism even among us. People begin measuring who belongs to a higher or lower tier within the SC community, and these hierarchies dictate their associations and friendships in college,” he laments. 

Aakash reveals a painful reality faced by students from marginalised backgrounds: the implicit caste discrimination that seeps into their interactions with peers. “We don’t belong to their groups,” he says, reflecting on the social isolation. This exclusion has tangible consequences; important study materials and notifications often bypass him and his peers, arriving only after they have circulated among upper-caste students. “It affects us academically because we’re left out of crucial information. By the time we hear about important updates, it’s often too late to catch up,” Aakash laments.

He argues that true change can only occur when social justice is integrated into the curriculum on a substantial level. “There needs to be a concerted effort to include discussions around caste, discrimination, and social justice in our education,” he asserts.

Voices Lost: The Cost of Caste Bias

Discrimination in academic settings often wears multiple faces, making it difficult to disentangle caste-based prejudice from other forms of bias. In colleges, discrimination manifests in various ways, some of which may not appear overtly casteist on the surface. But as layers are peeled back, the deep-rooted prejudices tied to caste, class, and socioeconomic status become clear, exposing the persistent weight of one’s caste identity.

Amrutavarshiny Senthil Kumar’s tragic death brings these complexities to the forefront. A third-year BA LLB (Honours) student at National Law University Delhi (NLUD), Amrutavarshiny came from the OBC community and relied on the support of IDIA (Increasing Diversity by Increasing Access), a non-profit organisation that helps students from marginalised backgrounds pursue legal education. 

On September 4, 2024, she was found dead in her hostel room, her death sending shockwaves through the institution. Before her passing, she left behind haunting words that shed light on the toll of isolation and discrimination: “On bad days, they look like self-loathing, panic attacks, crying in the library’s washroom, struggling with appetite, being burnt out, feeling completely out of place and alienated from your peers,”

Amrutavarshiny’s words resonate deeply with many students who face exclusion and discrimination, whether due to caste, financial background, or both. In her writings, she also urged the campus community to embrace empathy, to listen, and to fight for a more equitable environment. “We must want to get better, for otherwise, we leave the vulnerable ones to be doomed,” she wrote, calling for “radical love and growth” within NLUD. 

Did Amrutavarshiny face caste-based discrimination? The answer is unclear. However, her mother, Sangeetha, shared that her daughter had spoken about the mistreatment of poor students by their wealthier peers. “My daughter told me before her death that the college has many elite students, some of whom mistreat the poor. She said that the rich don’t understand or respect the poor, and this extends to people doing menial jobs like security or cleaning staff,” Sangeetha recounted. For students from the SC/ST and OBC communities, who often come from impoverished backgrounds, it becomes difficult to distinguish where class-based discrimination ends and caste-based prejudice begins.

In elite educational institutions like NLUD, where wealth and privilege are often concentrated among the upper castes, financial discrimination frequently overlaps with caste bias. A professor from NLUD, who spoke to us earlier had made this shocking revelation: “In the last semester, there were numerous instances of abusive language directed at SC/ST students. A list was even circulated, categorising individuals by caste and detailing which derogatory terms could be used against each group,” the professor revealed. 

In another case, Darshan Solanki, a student at IIT-Bombay, tragically took his life in 2023. His family has made it clear that Darshan had been complaining about facing caste-based discrimination and harassment within the college. Unfortunately, Darshan’s case is not isolated; his name joins a distressingly long list of students who have taken their own lives due to caste-related discrimination.

Fathima Latheef, a Muslim-OBC student at IIT-Madras, also allegedly succumbed to the weight of the harassment and discrimination she experienced. In her suicide note, Fathima named multiple faculty members, holding them responsible for the unbearable treatment that drove her to take her own life.

In most of these cases, however, institutions often dismiss these suicides as mere “unfortunate instances” attributed to the student’s “inability to cope” or “personal reasons,” absolving themselves of any accountability. 

The statistics released by the Human Resource Development (HRD) Minister is alarming. Between 2018 and 2023, over 19,000 students from Scheduled Caste (SC), Scheduled Tribe (ST), and Other Backward Classes (OBC) categories withdrew from central universities, IITs, and IIMs. Adding to the concern, government data has documented a disturbing trend of student suicides in these elite institutions. Since 2018, there have been 33 reported cases of suicide in Indian Institutes of Technology (IITs) alone. Among the trio of premier educational institutions—Indian Institute of Technology (IIT), National Institute of Technology (NIT), and Indian Institute of Management (IIM)—IITs have emerged as the institutions with the highest number of student suicides. 

“I Wasn’t Dalit Enough for Them, Lookwise and Soundwise”

Damodaran, a pseudonym for a student from the Mala community, is pursuing his PhD in literature at Delhi University, having previously studied at Osmania University in Hyderabad. Despite coming from a relatively affluent family, his experiences in academia have been marred by discrimination and prejudice. During his master’s program, Damodaran advocated for affirmative action and caste-based reservation, but his efforts were met with hostility. “I was asked why I was fighting for this,” he recalls, “as they firmly believed I wasn’t a Dalit as I wasn’t Dalit enough for them, lookwise and soundwise.”

According to Damodaran, upper-caste students maintain an idealised perception of what a Dalit individual should look like and sound like. When that ideal is challenged, their true animosity emerges. “They ask about our caste and try to figure it out through our surnames,” he explains. The scrutiny doesn’t stop there; if a student expresses admiration for leaders like Ambedkar, Periyar, or Phule—figures emblematic of the fight against caste oppression—upper-caste students quickly label them as lower caste.

Damodaran has witnessed firsthand the consequences of such biases. He recalls a particular incident in Delhi University where a friend of his, who excelled academically, was accused of possessing a fake certificate simply because his achievements contradicted the stereotype that Dalits cannot be intelligent. “There is a deep-seated jealousy that doesn’t allow them to accept the progress of a Dalit coming out of their servitude,” he states. 

Vidyasagar Sharma is a PhD candidate and has completed his MPhil in Political Science from Delhi University, along with an MA from Jawaharlal Nehru University (JNU). He belongs to the Lohar caste and proudly asserts that he is the first in his family lineage to pursue higher education.

Reflecting on his journey, Vidyasagar shares, “When I first came to JNU, I was lacking in many aspects, especially in language, as I had studied exclusively in regional languages in the past.” He further notes that, coming from an Economically Backward Class (EBC), he found there were few solidarity groups to support students like him. It was during his time at JNU for his Master’s in Political Studies that he encountered the broader issue of caste discrimination for the first time, marking his entry into an elite institution.

Due to affirmative action policies, JNU employs a quartile system, providing extra points for students from backward areas based on their geographic and caste marginality. While this system aims to accommodate students from vernacular backgrounds, Vidyasagar emphasises that classroom interactions predominantly occur in English. He observes, “Language is crucial because, if you look at Delhi University or JNU, language becomes very important in classroom interactions.” He points out that most of his classmates had completed their bachelor’s degrees at Delhi University, with only a few hailing from state universities like Nagpur University or Magadh University.

JNU has established a Linguistic Empowerment Cell to provide language support to students from vernacular mediums, assisting them in writing academic research papers and term papers. Despite these support systems, Vidyasagar notes a persistent groupism based on language skills and caste. He expresses a deep feeling of exclusion when he looks at wealthier classmates equipped with expensive gadgets, stating, “When I see a student holding an iPad or a very expensive gadget and sitting next to me, I have a very different feeling. It is not jealousy, it is a feeling that cannot be described as we have faced so much discrimination that the very sight of elite symbols of prestige unnerves people like me”. 

Vidyasagar believes there is a deep layer of discrimination and exclusion that remains largely unaddressed in these colleges, arguing that this exclusion contributes to serious issues such as student suicides and dropouts in higher education institutions.

Untouchability Even During Punishments

Jithin highlights that the issue of caste discrimination is not confined to higher education institutions; schools often exhibit similar, if not worse, instances of caste violence, particularly perpetrated by teachers. 

He recounts a deeply troubling experience from his fifth standard, stating, “When I was in fifth standard, there were around 40 students. Among them, there were two of us belonging to the Valmiki community. The teacher would single us out and ask us about the meats of goats, buffalos, and pigs. What is the cost and how is it cooked?” He describes how the teacher mocked him and his classmate, laughingly suggesting to the other students that they must know everything about meat because of their caste.

 “We were humiliated through these questions, and the other kids were indirectly told that these people are different from you because they eat meat. The kids started treating us differently after hearing this,” Jithin recalls, remembering the long-lasting impact of such dehumanising treatment.

Another disturbing revelation from Jithin is the practice of untouchability that extended even to punishments. He explains, “The teacher would never hit us with his hand, unlike the other children. He used a stick to hit us because he knew that these two kids belonged to the Valmiki community and he was not supposed to make physical contact with us.” 

This blatant discrimination extended beyond physical punishment; Jithin adds that while other students were allowed to touch the teacher’s feet as a sign of respect, he and his classmate were forbidden from doing so. “He would question us on whether we took a bath before coming to school,” he recalls, narrating the humiliating standards to which they were subjected. “They used to completely break our confidence right from school life. Then we grew up doubting our own abilities.”

Damodaran shares a similar experience from his childhood. He recalls, “During my childhood, I was once playing with a friend. While playing, he touched me, and seeing this, his mother came and dragged him away.” Confused at the time, he later learned from the stories of others on how untouchability manifests in various forms and variations. 

The First Lessons Are Taught at Home

Why blame educational institutions alone for caste discrimination? The roots of these biases often take hold in children long before they set foot in a classroom. Jithin explains, “Parents teach this from home itself. From the home itself, some are taught that you belong to the upper caste and you are good, while they belong to the lower caste, and that’s a bad thing. So, this starts from childhood.” This early conditioning reinforces a harmful hierarchy, embedding caste-based oppression into the psyche of children at a formative age.

The consequences of such indoctrination can be extremely harmful. “The caste-based oppression from a young age is so disturbing that students like me become mentally traumatised right from an early age,” Jithin asserts. 

“Suicides of Students Are Institutional Murders”

N. Sukumar, a Professor in the Department of Political Science at the University of Delhi and author of Caste Discrimination and Exclusion in Indian Universities, exposes the alarming prevalence of caste-based discrimination within the Indian higher education system. He asserts, “There have been suicides recently from IIT Guwahati also. It is a complete institutional failure. It is a systemic failure. I would call some of these institutional murders because many of these suicides are happening because of caste discrimination.”

According to Professor Sukumar, the issue is not limited to faculty actions; peer interactions also reveal deep-seated biases. He notes, “These elite students who belong to the upper caste believe that the quota students from SC/ST or OBC communities have encroached into their domain when they enter college.” He has witnessed numerous instances where faculty members assign lower grades to marginalised students even when they do well, often lacking not just empathy but basic humanity. “The institutions must accept there is caste-based discrimination among the minds of the very stakeholders. If you don’t accept there is a problem, then where is the solution?” he challenges.

The consequences of this discrimination extend to placement opportunities, as Professor Sukumar emphasises: “Even if you are proficient in language and skills, when it comes to placement, educational institutions may discriminate against you if you are not from the so-called upper castes.” He expresses concern over the increasing instances of suicides, calling it an epidemic that cannot be ignored. “The HRD ministry must take serious cognisance of this issue and implement strong policies. The government must conduct a social audit of premier institutions like the IITs, IIMs, and NLUs. Without data, it’s challenging to implement effective policy changes. The pressing need of the hour is a meticulous social audit of these higher education institutions.”

“The Faculty Must Be Terminated as Caste-Based Discrimination Is a Criminal Act”

Professor Sukumar insists that institutions must take decisive action against caste discrimination. “Whether it is the Director, faculty, or student—whoever engages in caste-based discrimination must be terminated and penalised, and must also face criminal action.” He questions the lack of strong anti-discrimination laws in the country, stating, “Ragging is a criminal offence and we have a strong law. Why can’t we have a strong anti-discrimination law? There should be a zero-tolerance policy towards discrimination. These institutions may have SC/ST cells, but how many of them are functioning effectively?”

Law Only on Paper

While India has made significant strides in enacting laws and signing international agreements to combat caste-based discrimination, the grim reality on the ground tells a different story. The country’s commitment to eradicating this deep-rooted issue is evident in its international obligations. India signed and ratified the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR) in 1979, ensuring protections against discrimination. Similarly, India is a signatory to the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (ICERD) and the Convention on the Rights of the Child (CRC), reflecting its pledge to create a world free of inequality.

Domestically, the Indian Constitution, under Article 15, expressly prohibits any form of discrimination based on caste. Additionally, laws such as the Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes (Prevention of Atrocities) Act of 1989 and the Protection of Civil Rights Act of 1976 were designed to tackle caste-based violence and exclusion. 

Moreover, the University Grants Commission (UGC) introduced the UGC (Promotion of Equity in Higher Educational Institutions) Regulations, 2012, which mandate institutions to create non-discriminatory environments and set up Equal Opportunity Cells to address grievances related to caste-based discrimination. However, despite these legal frameworks, caste discrimination persists in India’s higher education institutions. 

The imbalance of power between the privileged and the marginalised remains stark. Laws that look strong on paper often fail in practice, as marginalised students continue to face exclusion, abuse, and unequal treatment. The presence of legal protections has not been enough to dismantle the systemic exploitation of marginalised communities, especially in environments where caste bias remains entrenched in both academic and social interactions.