“I was in a medical college in Allahabad. I was so happy that my hard work had paid off and I was going to fulfill my dream of completing my medical studies. It’s tough you know; it’s not easy to clear these exams. I was enthusiastic of joining a new place, a new college. I wanted to make friends and study and party and enjoy myself too.”
I smile at the other end of the phone. I wish we could’ve met right away, I say to him. It’s so much better to meet and talk such stuff. Harsh – no, not H-A-A-R-S-H that means cruel in English; Harsh, as in, joy, that’s what your name means, silly – are you sure you want to tell your story?

“Yes. I do. But I’ll conceal some details till we meet face-to-face, alright?”

Right.

“I’m an easy-going person. I enjoy music a lot, I’m serious about my work, which is not to say I’m boring and just studious. I’ve had a good friend circle but over the years, either I’ve matured too quickly, or they’ve been left far behind. I do not know but life has changed. I am fiercely protective of my parents (like any other son). I want to think of a bright future for myself. After all that’s happened with me,” he sniggers, “I’m still hopeful.”

How did it happen?

“Ha ha, you want to really move very quickly, huh?”
No, no, I’m sorry, it’s not that. I…
“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain yourself. Explaining oneself is very difficult. I know it. I’ve done a lot of explaining to the teachers, to my parents, to some of my friends, to the bureaucracy, to government agencies, to the police. All I did for two years was to try and explain myself to others.”
Did you succeed?
(Dry laughs on the phone for half-a-minute at least)
Did you succeed?
“I don’t know if I did. I’m not a doctor, you see. I never finished my medical studies.”
You called it quits because of what others did to you? What’s wrong with you? You lost out on your dream of wanting to become a doc?

“Oh, the same set of dialogues. Wish people would at least say the same thing in a different way. Like, say it with a feeling, in a tone that’s conveys anything but frustration. Say it like you were sitting in a fancy café, sipping on cappuccino and just, you know, discussing your recent shopping jaunt with a friend. Or, like you were on a picnic, or on a long walk with a pal, and just talking, y’know, just chatting.”

 
Hey, sorry, I just blurt it out. I didn’t mean to…

 
“No, it’s okay. Like I said, I’m used to it. My own voice shakes when I talk about it. I mean, it’s alright for me to talk about the incident — or incidents, because it went on for one whole month, every single day, every single night – but I often shiver and feel the tremble in my voice. I want to control it, catch hold of my neck and say, “Shut up, and talk properly,” but that would mean I’m turning into a villain too. What would be the difference between them and me? Yes, it happens. Stanford has done research to find out why bullying exists, why people become rude, why youngsters – and children too — are ragged. Very often, the research found out, victims become perpetrators and that’s why stuff like bullying and ragging exists.”

 
You’re right. I remember when I was in the first year of college. I promised myself – along with others in my gang – that I’ll rag simply because I’ll be in a position to. I’m hopeless at debates, I’m pathetic when it comes to fighting for my rights, I barely have a voice with which I can defend myself even as a 32-year-old. So I cry, I cry even today. But, listen, this is your story. Please go on.

 
“Hmmm, alright. But bullying, rude talk can happen in offices too. It’s alright to cry, it’s alright and it’s not stupid.”

 
A friend, in front of whom I cried about some office matter, said the same thing yesterday. And I felt much, much better. But, listen, would you go on with your story, please? I don’t want the attention on myself.

 
(Sighs jokingly) “Women are always so impatient. Okay, I was ragged. I was ragged very, very, badly. I won’t give you more details but you can let your imagination run wild. I was unable to face myself. I thought, ya’ar, this is the done thing in college. I can’t be so chicken, after all, I’m preparing to be a doctor. But every night (I was scared to even shut my eyes, by the way) I thought it was becoming unbearable. I spoke to the principal and he was sweet; he patted my back reassuringly. It felt nice, very nice, in fact, and then I waited. I needed action. I waited. I deserved speedy justice. I waited. I needed to set things right. I got ragged that night by a group of seniors who came into my room and then asked me to … I waited. I cried. I waited. I ran to the loo. I got ragged there too. I screamed. I waited. I begged. I waited. I packed my bags. I waited. I cried, ‘Mamma’ like a 4-year-old who had been hit in the mud by four bullies. I wanted to hug my mum. I also wanted to pee very badly. But I was so scared to go to the loo. I waited. Yes, I just waited.”

 
By this time, I start crying. “I’m so sorry,” I say, “I can’t hear anymore.”

 
“I couldn’t bear to stay there any longer. My parents fetched me, we came back to Delhi. For two years, I ran to get admission in any other medical college and authorities, seniors, elders laughed. My parents persuaded me to go back. I didn’t flinch. Yes, parents we can bully no? So I didn’t budge. ‘I’m not going back,’ I told Pa. They sighed. Their dreams of seeing their son as a doctor were shattered. Some professors came to meet me. Sweet na? They told me, ‘Beta, you are lucky. You didn’t spend six months in a hospital; that’s how ragging can be — and has been — in this medical college.’ At that time, I wanted to bear my soul and show them the scars but that wasn’t possible. I mean, you can’t rip open your heart and tell these profs, ‘See Sir, I’ve been hurt here, and here, and here.’ Even Majnus and Romeos never managed that.”

 
What do you do now?

 
“I wasn’t given a seat in any other medical college in the country and after two years I decided that I’d had enough. So, along with two other guys with whom I was in touch on an online anti-ragging community, I decided to run and support an anti-ragging forum. Anytime, anyone needs us, we’re there to show our support, our understanding. I wouldn’t use lofty words like, ‘mission’ or ‘aim’ or ‘goal’ to describe our forum, but if anyone wants to connect with us, we are there. We hope to sensitize people at large, we pray that ragging (which isn’t ‘fun’ or ‘easy’ as most people believe) will get eradicated someday. That’s what we’re doing. That’s what I’m doing and that’s what I’ll continue to do.”

 
You are a brave-heart. And you know what, you’re still a doctor. You are, after all, treating the society at large.
 

Dear friends, if you know of any person, organisation and/or forum, working towards the cause of eradicating ragging, please inform me on my id abhilashaojha@gmail.com