Spring Semester 12: In Full Bloom
English

The last week of the spring semester.
Exams are over, trunks are half
packed, and the farewell is on Friday.
Friday. The hills song.
I play, you clap.
On the beat?
Nobody else in this wing can.
No.
Last night someone in my course group
guessed a classmate's caste from her JEE
rank. As a joke.
And?
Eleven laughed. Fifty-one said nothing.
And she saw all of it.
I deleted it. Wrote one line in the group.
Wrote to her, privately.
Reported it to the Equal Opportunity Cell.
She wrote back: nobody had
ever deleted one before.
Nobody, ever.
And the chat is the small part.
Students choose their own project groups,
and in my course the same few are left
over every time.
Then change how the groups are made.
This morning. Chits in a tumbler.
Before you go home: next
semester's project groups.
By draw. Everyone takes a chit.
No swapping, no trading.
Sir, and if we get people we don't know?
Then you'll know them by Diwali.
And roles rotate every week.
Lead, code, test, present.
Everyone does all four.
Group five? Over here!
Nandini. I code.
Kabir. I present, apparently.
Week one.
And lead. You're lead too.
Sir!
Rotating roles, Kabir.
You'll manage.
Before you begin. Your
English is very good.
You are from abroad?
Nepal?
Gangtok, sir. Sikkim.
Ah, Sikkim. Very nice, very nice.
And her catalyst is from our second floor.
Shall we start there?
Yes, yes. The catalyst.
Why this route?
Because the old one needed three days.
This one takes six hours.
Comments? Anyone? Sonam?
After the seminar, Sonam stopped
speaking in lab meetings.
Last time you were here, you brought Lata.
This time I brought myself.
Less paperwork.
Since the seminar, my accent
is the lab's favourite joke.
So I've stopped talking in meetings.
It's quieter.
Quieter for whom?
...For them.
Sonam, being mocked or left out for
where you're from, or for how you speak,
counts as ragging under the UGC's rules.
Ragging? I haven't been
a fresher for years.
The definition says
'fresher or otherwise'.
I feel younger already.
You can report it, and
it stays confidential.
Or you can start smaller.
Your choice.
Smaller. Kamala ma'am is my named person.
I'll start there.
Ma'am, you once said small
things are what end up in trays.
This is a small thing.
Then let's keep it out of the tray.
Venkat, one suggestion.
The first speaker rotates.
Every week, someone
different opens the meeting.
Rotates. Fine.
And in this lab, nobody's
accent is a joke.
Mine included.
This week, Sonam. Go.
Chapter three. The new route,
from run one to run forty.
Why does the yield drop
above sixty degrees?
I was hoping someone would ask.
Then answer it slowly.
Everyone's listening.
Apology accepted. You're
washing the glassware this week.
One page. Everything we changed this
year, written down so it stays changed.
Line one. Equal hostel
rules, every hostel.
In March I said 'for now'.
Strike 'for now'.
Line two. Prakash sir's signature
is still on the original.
Framed. In my office.
Line four. I checked
the portal this morning.
It gives you a number.
It works.
Line six. Mani Anna gave up
his own bench for that one.
All in favour?
Carried.
And the first copy goes to
the person who noticed first.
Every time.
Who?
You'll see.
The National Task Force heard that caste
discrimination on campus is often 'not
explicitly casteist'.
It shows up in a 'vibe check', in
caste guessed from NEET and JEE
ranks, in jokes, and in
differences in academic attention.
The UGC's 2026 equity regulations
have been stayed by the Supreme
Court, so the 2012
regulations remain in force.
And the Court has ordered every Equal
Opportunity Cell and grievance committee
to be 'fully operational'.
At the start of the season,
we saw a study of belonging.
Its short exercise helped only on campuses
where the setting supported students.
The researchers called it seed and soil.
This spring, one campus tended its ground.
Equal hostel rules.
A help-first clause.
Early warnings on attendance.
Numbers on complaints.
Supervision compacts.
An accessible bench.
And every one of them began
with a person who noticed.
Last circle of the year.
In July, the new first-years get a
circle of their own, and Meera runs it.
Sor— Thank you, Tanvi di.
Better.
Okay. Bring questions.
Leave the sorrys outside.
Beta! First year over! And?
Passed everything, Maa.
Every course.
Every course! Suno ji,
he passed everything!
Papa says he's proud of you.
He's too shy to say it himself.
And you? Everything fine?
Not everything, Maa.
It was a hard semester.
But I asked for help.
And people helped.
Next time, you tell me first.
Next time, I'll tell you first.
And the laddoos? All in one night again?
Two nights, Maa. I'm growing up.
This one's for the final years.
And for Kabir, who
still claps on the beat.
You were good, bhai.
I slept last night.
It helps.
Ma'am, sir. I leave for
my internship on Monday.
Two months at Company D.
Two months? Who's going
to check the portal?
Write to us from Company D.
With a tracking number.
The farewell ends at
twenty-two hundred hours!
Twenty-two thirty. Final offer.
Anna. The first copy.
You noticed first. Every time.
Laminate it. Monsoon is coming.
In January, it was a wooden
box full of complaints.
By May, it was one page, signed.
In January I told you this tree was dead.
You did. Loudly.
One item at a time, we said.
How many did we finish?
Six. And how many students?
I lost count.
Good.
Is that a cloud?
July. New faces.
Then I'd better start learning names.
Try this week: set one norm in your
class or lab, and say it out loud.
And here is a phrase to keep.
Silence is also a reply.
Support details and sources
are below this video.
Thank you for spending
this spring with us.
Look after your students, and yourselves.
Be the lamp. Be the bridge.
Tend the ground.