Understanding Reservation

Reservation is a constitutional provision in India created to ensure fair opportunities in education, government jobs and political representation for communities that have faced social and economic disadvantages for centuries. It is often misunderstood as simply giving seats or jobs based on community but not on marks or merit. But reservation is much more than that, it is a step towards correcting historic inequalities.

India’s population is broadly divided into different social groups with different levels of access to resources and opportunities. According to the Census and government data:

• The General Category (also called Open Category or OC) forms about 30 to 35% of the population.
• Other Backward Classes (OBC) make up roughly 40 to 45%.
• Scheduled Castes (SC) account for around 16 to 17%.
• Scheduled Tribes (ST) represent about 8 to 9%.
• Some states recognize Most Backward Classes (MBC) or Denotified Communities separately, with percentages varying from 10 to 20%.

The Indian government provides reservation as follows:

• 15% of seats and jobs are reserved for Scheduled Castes.
• 7.5% for Scheduled Tribes.
• Around 27% for Other Backward Classes.
• 10% reservation has been introduced for Economically Weaker Sections (EWS) among the General Category.

State governments may also add reservations for other groups based on local social conditions.

The aim of reservation is to support communities that have faced long standing social discrimination, economic hardship and limited access to quality education and employment. To understand this consider your own family where your parents or grandparents may have had the advantage of education, stable jobs and a secure home environment. Now compare that with families benefiting from reservation where previous generations often worked as laborers or in other low income jobs while also facing discrimination. For many individuals from these communities being the first in their family to attend college or secure a government job is a significant milestone achieved despite lacking the resources and support that others may take for granted.

Some question why reservation exists instead of relying solely on merit. While merit is important it cannot be the only measure of potential or opportunity because the conditions under which individuals compete vary greatly. A student from a privileged background typically has access to well funded schools, private coaching and family guidance. In contrast a student from a disadvantaged background often has poorly equipped schools, financial constraints and social barriers alongside academic challenges. 

Reservation provides a way to level this uneven system by ensuring that those who have been historically excluded get access to education and jobs. It is not about giving unfair advantage but about recognizing that equal opportunities cannot exist unless social and economic inequalities are addressed. Reservation also helps increase diversity and representation in education and workplaces. 

This representation plays a vital role in breaking stereotypes and encouraging social inclusion. To those who question or oppose reservation, consider this: how can merit alone be fair when generations of disadvantage and discrimination have created unequal starting points? It is easy to demand opportunity when your family’s path has been paved with education and stability, but millions still face barriers today. Reservation is not about giving an edge but about creating a fair chance for those who have long been denied opportunities. Until every person regardless of their background can compete on equal footing reservation remains essential. As the Tamil saying goes, “பிறப்பால் அனைவரும் சமம்", which means “All people are born equal".

Caste Before Conscience

In a country that calls itself free, it should be simple. Murder is wrong and those responsible should face the consequences. Yet after a recent honor killing, the biggest outrage was not about the fact that a young boy was killed for loving across caste lines. It was about someone daring to mention the caste issues behind it.

No one openly defended the killer, but some felt the need to say he was an athlete whose dreams are now lost. As if a planned act of murder deserved sympathy. This shift in attention from the victim’s stolen life to the murderer’s missed future shows how misplaced priorities can be.

The YouTube channel Paridhabangal addressed the caste factor directly. That alone brought threats, backlash and even a legal case filed by a lawyer. The killing itself did not push them to act this way, but the pointing out of caste did. It is hard not to see what this says about the values being defended.

Where was this energy when the boy was killed. Where were these actions when justice truly needed defenders. Their silence then and sudden reaction now make it clear that community pride is being protected more than truth. Speaking about the system that fuels such crimes has become more dangerous than the crime itself.

If talking about caste shakes people more than the taking of a life, what kind of justice do we live under. And how many more will be lost?

Consent vs Abuse

 

We seem more disturbed by consent than by abuse.
When two adults choose each other through trust and clarity the society begins to doubt them. But when someone is harmed without consent, the same people look away. The judgment is harsher for what is chosen than for what is forced. A couple booking a room draws more attention than a victim seeking justice. And somehow society turns away from what truly needs to be confronted.

This contrast is not accidental. What is visible draws outrage while what truly hurts is left unnoticed. Consensual sex between adults is treated as immoral while abuse, harassment and coercion are either denied or ignored. The victim is expected to remain quiet and move on, as though speaking about the violence brings more shame than the act itself. Meanwhile those who simply shared trust and affection face judgement from people who have no right to interfere.

The problem starts early. Most children are denied proper sex education. They are not taught about emotional safety, healthy communication or consent. Instead they are told to avoid the topic completely. This silence does not remove curiosity. It only pushes them to search elsewhere and often in places that misinform or mislead. As they grow up many fail to understand the difference between mutual desire and pressure. They grow up without knowing how to express boundaries or respect them.

In relationships this lack of understanding creates confusion and damage. People do not know how to say what they feel or ask what the other person wants. When something so central to human connection like sex is left unexplained, mistakes become common and harder to repair. We end up with a culture where speaking of intimacy feels shameful but speaking of violence feels unnecessary.

There is nothing shameful about two adults choosing each other. There is nothing brave about looking away from abuse. Sex, when shared with mutual trust and understanding does not need society’s permission. What does need attention is the silence around abuse, the hesitation to listen to victims and the failure to draw a clear line between consent and control.

Maybe the issue is not the act itself but the idea that people made a choice without waiting for approval. And maybe that discomfort is what we truly need to address.

Part 4: Gone Before I Could Say Goodbye

The sun had already risen by the time the other friend woke up, and together we walked down to the small market for a cup of morning tea before returning to the hut. The warmth of the tea in my hands and the air felt fresh, yet my mind kept going back to the night before and the hours I had spent talking to her under the stars.

After a while I decided to go for a short walk. A dog I had never seen before began to follow me, walking ahead as though it knew the way and then circling back to sit beside me for no reason. We eventually settled on the rocks by the river, both of us staring at the calm water that reflected the morning light. There was nothing to do but sit there, cherishing the company of the dog and the place, and letting my thoughts wander to the conversations that we had through the night.

The friends joined me after some time and we sat together for a while before the water activities began for the day. I wanted to try kayaking and asked if they would come, but they told me they had already done it the previous day and would wait for me before leaving, as they had plans for another destination. I agreed and walked over to the counter where they charged me 600rs and gave me a life jacket.

A man with a bright green kayak was waiting by the water. He asked if I knew how to kayak and when I said no, he told me to get in and gave me a few simple instructions from the shore. My first few paddles were clumsy and the kayak swayed, but soon I found the rhythm and it began to glide across the water. The sound of the paddle cutting through the river, the gentle sway of the boat and the way the light shimmered on the surface made the whole moment feel almost unreal. The river stretched open and quiet ahead of me and for a while I felt as though I was floating through a dream, one of those rare experiences that stays on your memory forever.

When I returned I walked back towards the hut expecting to find them relaxed, but instead they were moving quickly, packing their things as if they were late for something. I asked what the rush was but received no real answer, only that the guy had suddenly decided to leave for the next place and so she was leaving too. Before they went I asked her for the number of a guide she knew in Cherrapunji so that I could arrange my travel there and she gave it to me.

I still did not understand why they were leaving in such a hurry, but I told them I would quickly change out of my wet clothes and join them for at least part of the way, even though my route was different. I stepped into the tent to change, and in the middle of it there was a knock.

Her voice came from outside, “We are leaving Saru. Bye bye.”

I called out, but by the time I came out they were already gone. I had not even managed to step forward, to see her face one last time to say a proper goodbye. My bag was still unpacked and my words were still left unsaid. I stood there for a long moment wondering if I had done something wrong, searching for a reason that would make sense of how quickly it had all ended. But some questions are never answered.

The stranger who had stayed with me the entire night, who had shared laughter and a thousand little stories by the river, had left without a wave or a backward glance. The night we shared had turned into a memory in an instant. It was no longer something I could touch or live again, yet it stayed somewhere very deep.

Some people come into your life unexpectedly,  share a moment that changes you and leave before you can even say goodbye. All I could do was hold on to the memory of her voice, picture of her in my mind and a hope that our paths might cross again someday.

I began packing my own things. I was left with questions that would never find answers and the memory of a night, a night that would stay with me for a Very long time. 

With that thought, I set out to the next place letting the journey continue...

Peace

Part 3: The Stranger Who Stayed Behind

By the time the rain slowed down and the storm began to pass, one of the friends said he wanted to sleep and the other agreed and they both got ready to rest. They asked me to join but I said no it is okay I can manage outside and that they should sleep inside the tent. I thought I would be left alone with the dark and the river for company, but instead she stayed back. The stranger who had helped me move my soaked world to safety was now refusing to go.

I assumed she would go too, but she looked at me and said, "If you are not sleeping then I am not sleeping either". There was no hesitation in her voice. It was not a question or an offer. It was a decision. She sat beside me, with a pack of cigarette and a warm smile, her voice carrying a calmness that felt warmer than any blanket could. I told her more than once that she could go inside, that it was getting colder, but she kept smiling and saying no. She wanted to stay.

And she did. Not for a few minutes. Not for a few hours. She stayed with me the entire night.

We did not need to break the ice. From the first moment it felt natural, as if we had known each other for a long time. The river flowed beside us, the earth held the scent of rain, but none of it felt like a background we needed. We just spoke. It felt like I was not meeting someone new, but remembering someone I already knew.

She pulled out a cigarette. The wind was playful, it kept putting out the lighter’s flame. She tried again and again and each time the wind blew it out. We laughed every single time and it became a kind of rhythm. She kept on striking the lighter and the wind blowed it out. She began cursing the wind, but always with a grin. It became our inside joke, one that did not need words to be funny.

We spoke about Instagram captions. I teased her for how seriously she had worded her long captions. She laughed and fired back by pulling up mine. We laughed over that too, and it struck me how even something as small as captions could feel like sharing a piece of ourselves. But behind all that jokes was the comfort of being seen without having to explain anything.

What struck me most was how she never made me feel younger. Not once did she speak down to me or remind me of the age difference. Instead she listened with full attention as if everything I said mattered. And I found myself listening too, not out of politeness but because I genuinely wanted to know who she was. Her stories and her thoughts and the little things that made her laugh all felt important.

We changed positions throughout the night. Sometimes we sat on the bench. Sometimes we leaned against the poles of the shed. Once or twice we stood by the river saying nothing just watching the water move. It felt like we were walking slowly through each other’s minds discovering little things.

Then sometime between one moment and the next the sky began to shift. A faint blue crept over the horizon. The outlines of the river and hills became visible. And we both realised that we had spoken through the entire night. The storm had passed. The world had changed again. We were still sitting there. Still talking. Still not done.

When she finally said she might nap for a while she leaned on the bench. But I knew she would not sleep. Her eyes kept opening her smile never faded and she kept looking at me. It felt like we were in some strange dream. As if time had stopped. As if neither of us wanted to blink and miss it.

That night was not about the events or unforgettable stories. It was about a stranger who stayed. A stranger who chose not to sleep not to leave not to make the easy choice. A stranger who turned into something more, someone who reminded me that sometimes the most beautiful moments happen when you least expect them.

I have always valued in person conversations. In a world filled with stories shared through screens and feelings put into captions, that night showed me why I love real conversations. You see someone. You hear them. You laugh without hesitations. You read their silence. You notice how their eyes light up before a story begins, how laughter sometimes comes before the joke is finished. No message typed online can replicate this feeling. That night was proof that some conversations are meant to be felt, not just read.

The sun rose like it always does but that morning it felt slower and softer as if even time itself did not want to interrupt what had begun beneath the stars.

To Be Continued...

Part 2: Facing the Storm

After a well spent day I returned to the tent. The same two people I had seen earlier were sitting beside it and greeted me with a smile as I came back from dinner. There was something pleasant about that night. Maybe it was the breeze across the river or the company. I did not feel ready to end the day. I sat down at the entrance of my tent with legs stretched outside and opened a pack of bourbon. Not the drink but the biscuit, and somehow that small irony felt like a private joke.

Soon we began talking. The three of us shared fragments of our stories like how we had landed up here, where we were headed next and what we left behind back home. The conversations were light. As the hours crept by the other boys nearby returned to their tents and zipped themselves in for the night. But I stayed where I was. 

At some point someone suggested a walk. So the three of us got up grabbed the mobile torch and stepped onto the suspension bridge. It was already past 10.30pm and the wind was brushing past our faces. The bridge swayed gently with every gust. The river thundered beneath the bridge, a force that could be heard clearly but never fully seen. We stopped midway and looked around. The view from the top was Mesmerizing. Could see the entire Shnongpdeng with lights.

Eventually we turned back towards the tent and stayed outside reluctant to let go of the night. And just like that the sky opened with a few rain drops that told us what was coming. We exchanged quick goodbyes and rushed into our tents. I zipped the flap closed and tried to convince myself it would pass. Someone had told me once that in Meghalaya the rain does not knock politely. It simply arrives and takes over everything.

I lay back scrolling through messages, posting stories as the weather turned fierce outside. The walls of the tent started to tremble. I sat up unsure whether this was just a passing thing or something worse. The downpour turned fierce within minutes. Water started to seep through the corners and collect in shallow pools inside the tent. The sides of the tent flapped so hard I thought they might rip. I tried to weigh them down with my bag, boots and my own body but nothing held. Every gust lifted the thin walls off the ground. For the first time in the trip I felt genuine fear.

Outside I could hear chaos, Shouts, Footsteps of People running. l imagined people evacuating, grabbing their belongings, abandoning the riverbank. I held on to the corners of the tent and tried to stay calm, but the water was creeping in fast. My clothes were soaked. My things were wet. There was no space left untouched by water. I sent a few messages to friends letting them know where I was and added simply that I was not sure if I would make it through the night.

After what felt like an hour the wind began to ease. The rain softened and I unzipped the flap and looked outside. The place looked like a battlefield. Some tents had collapsed and the others were blown several feet away. I stepped out and called to the people in the next tents. Are you alright, are you alive, in a funny note. They called back with a laugh and said yes, they were fine. I told them I was too. Even if everything I owned was drenched, it somehow felt like an achievement to be able to be there and say it.

I went back inside and sat for a moment, thinking maybe I could still stay. But the floor was soaked and it was freezing cold. What followed after that is a different part of the night.

To be continued...

Part 1: Finding Peace in Shnongpdeng

 

April 5 2025

It was the first day of my trip to Meghalaya and everything felt like it was going just right. The day began on a peaceful note with visits to a few waterfalls. My initial plan was to stay in Dawki for the night but a few conversations with locals gently nudged me towards a quieter alternative. A place called Shnongpdeng. They said it had stays right on the river and water activities like kayaking and cliff jumping and most importantly it was less crowded and largely underrated which only made me more curious and excited.

I reached Shnongpdeng around five or five thirty in the evening and at the checkpost I managed to get a few contact numbers of people who helped with stays. One quick call and I had a tent waiting for me near the river. The person on the call sounded genuinely excited to host me and once he heard I had come all the way from Kanyakumari he seemed even more thrilled. He said the stay would cost a thousand rupees for the night and I agreed without a second thought.

From the parking spot on top of the river I had to walk down a narrow path to reach the tents. I hesitated for a moment thinking about the safety of my bike but the people there assured me they would be around and that my vehicle would be safe. I trusted their confidence and walked down with them as they showed me the tents. We were halfway across other tents when a group of boys called out to us asking if we remembered them. I paused and realised they were the same group I had met earlier that day at one of the waterfalls. They insisted that the tent guy place me next to theirs so they could keep me company. That gesture felt oddly comforting in a new land.

I settled down and after a while they shared some bread they had brought along and we sat chatting for a while. They were students on a break exploring the region during their vacation. It is always fascinating when strangers choose to be kind. Took a walk and sat next to a dog for a while lost in the sound and the beauty of the place, and then returned to my tent where the boys invited me to join them for dinner. I said yes.

Before heading out I needed to charge my phone and send a message back home just to let them know I was safe. I found a power outlet next to the tent on my right and I saw a man and a woman sitting there. I assumed they were a couple and politely asked the woman if I could plug in my phone. She smiled and said yes. I placed my phone to charge and soon enough a conversation started between us and found out they were friends from Mumbai. I told them where I was from what I did and they shared a few things in return. Then I stepped out for a short walk by the river, to admire the alluring beauty or the river with setting sun. When I came back the phone had charged enough and it was now time to join the boys for dinner.

Before I left I asked the friends if they wanted to join us. They laughed and said they were going to open a beer and relax and asked if I would like to join. I smiled and said No, I had to ride the next day and politely declined. Then I walked off with the boys towards a small shack where food was being served. The meal was simple but fulfilling. A plate of rice some good chicken and a few more dishes that made the evening warm and homely. We ate and spoke and laughed for a while, and then I said goodbye as they planned to go up to the local market to explore a bit more. I decided to head back to my tent instead.

The river was glowing and the lights across the banks flickered as if the night itself was in no hurry to sleep, and I sat there for a while thinking the day had ended in the best way it could with new faces soft conversations and the comfort of water beside me. But just when I thought the day was over, the night turned and so did everything else.

To be continued...