Call for Essays – Injustice in Formal Institutions

Dalit Voice is inviting pitches for a thematic booklet on injustice and discrimination in formal institutions. Formal institutions often claim to operate through rules and ideas of merit and professionalism with a veneer of neutrality and objectivity. But the everyday life of institutions reveals that they are shaped by the same structural and ideological patterns of discrimination and inequality that shape society more broadly. At the same time, institutional practices themselves help reproduce and shape discriminatory social relations within and beyond those institutions, especially when they wield significant power within society. We want to examine how systems of social power and discrimination exist within and enter institutional life, how they shape the experiences of people from marginalised and oppressed communities, and how institutions in turn affect those who encounter them from the outside.

The call is open for social justice writing on universities and schools, workplaces, courts, government departments, political parties, media organisations, cultural institutions, NGOs, religious institutions, professional bodies and other formally constituted organisations.

 

Some possible questions include:

  • What happens when an institution’s stated rules come up against practices of discrimination and bigotry?
  • What does discrimination and bigotry look like in the functioning of a particular institution?
  • How do people from marginalised and oppressed communities navigate institutions where they remain underrepresented or unequally situated?
  • What happens when discriminatory and bigoted practices within an institution are challenged?
  • How have particular institutions changed in response to struggles over social justice?
  • How do institutional rules, norms and practices reproduce existing forms of social power or create new forms of discrimination?
  • How do people respond to and challenge institutional forms of discrimination?

These questions are intended to suggest possible directions rather than define the scope of the call. Contributors are welcome to approach the theme from other angles.

 

Formats

  1. Long-form essays — 3 pieces
    Approx. 4,000-5000 words
    Honorarium: ₹8,000 per piece

We are looking for deeply researched pieces that investigate a specific institution, question, history, event or development. The research need not be academic. It might involve interviews, documents, archival material, reporting, data or other sources appropriate to the subject. We want essays that have something substantive to establish or uncover, rather than opinion pieces expanded to 4,000 words.

 

  1. Short commentary — 5 pieces
    Approx. 1500-2000 words
    Honorarium: ₹3,000 per piece

These can engage with an institutional development, controversy, decision, debate or question, whether recent or longstanding. We are looking for pieces that offer a fresh way of thinking about the subject and develop a clear argument.

 

  1. Reviews — 3 pieces
    Approx. 1200-1500 words
    Honorarium: ₹2,000 per piece

Reviews of books or other forms of media that offer an entry point into questions of social inequality, discrimination, bigotry and formal institutions. We are particularly interested in reviews that use the work to open up a wider political, social or intellectual question.

 

Sending a pitch

When sending a pitch, please give us a clear sense of what you want to write, what you want to examine, and why the subject is worth examining. Rather than pitching the broad issue itself, identify a concrete subject through which you can explore the larger questions raised by the theme.

For example, a pitch on “discrimination in higher education” would be too broad. A pitch examining patterns of exclusion in the recruitment practices of a particular university, the handling of a discrimination complaint, the experience of a particular group within the institution, or the history of an institutional policy gives us a clearer sense of the proposed piece.

For long-form essays, please explain what you intend to investigate and what material or sources you expect to draw on. For commentaries, tell us the argument you want to develop. For reviews, tell us the larger question you want to explore through the book.

Priority will be given to pitches from and about communities that experience structural marginalisation and oppression, including Dalits, OBCs, Adivasis, religious minorities, women, queer and trans persons, and other historically excluded groups.

All submissions should be original and unpublished.

Dalit Voice reserves the right to edit commissioned pieces for length, clarity and consistency with the booklet’s editorial requirements.

 

Submission

Please send:

  • A 500 word pitch of your proposed piece
  • A short bio less of less than 100 words
  • The name of the format you are applying for

Each contributor may submit one pitch only.

Send your pitch to dsa@dalitsahityaacademy.com.

 

Timeline

Pitch submission deadline: 23 October 2026.

Selected contributors will be notified and commissions confirmed by 30 October 2026.

Accepted contributors will be expected to submit the completed piece by 22 November 2026.

The booklet is being produced on a fixed schedule. If a commissioned piece is not submitted within the stipulated timeline, the commission will be withdrawn so that the booklet can proceed on schedule. If you expect a problem meeting the deadline, please let us know before it passes.

Honorarium will be paid upon submission of the completed commissioned piece.

Changing Fans Won’t Stop Casteism: Institutional Murder of Sahil Wakode at IIT Bombay

There is a persistent, naive belief in India that premier engineering institutes are pristine spaces of pure meritocracy, immune to the social hierarchies of the world outside. The institutional murder of 22-year-old Sahil Ravindra Wakode at IIT Bombay violently shatters this myth. Sahil, a first-generation student from Yavatmal, entered IIT carrying the monumental hopes of his parents, who had endured lifelong socioeconomic deprivation. Academically stellar, with a category rank of 614 in JEE Advanced and an 8.5 CGPA in his first year, he was exactly the kind of brilliant mind these institutions claim to nurture. Yet, upon stepping into this elite campus, he encountered an environment engineered not for his intellectual growth but for his profound psychological alienation.

 

A Predictable Structural Output

What transpired on September 18, 2026, was not an isolated tragedy or an individual anomaly. It was the predictable output of a structurally casteist institution.

Data shared by IIT Bombay sociologist Prof. Suryakant Waghmore reveals a grim reality: between 2019 and 2023, of the students who dropped out of IITs, 56% were from the General Category, 25% OBC, 13% SC, and 5% ST. These disproportionate figures are the direct consequence of systematic, daily caste-based hostility. The mechanism of this exclusion is well-documented: marginalized students, often first-generation learners from rural or non-English medium backgrounds, are thrust into a hyper-competitive campus culture dominated by upper-caste privilege. A recent interim report by the National Task Force (NTF) explicitly noted that students from disadvantaged communities face severe isolation because they are routinely excluded from the dominant campus culture, failing arbitrary social “vibe checks” set by privileged peers. Ground reports reveal that Dalit and Adivasi students are frequently stigmatized as “reservation candidates,” alienated from informal peer study groups and subjected to constant indirect pressure and microaggressions from unsensitized faculty.

When academic struggles arise, this pre-existing environment of social boycott and lack of institutional mentorship compounds their stress into profound psychological trauma, ultimately forcing them to drop out simply to survive.

During a mid-term examination, Sahil was caught using his mobile phone to search for answers on ChatGPT. Under extreme academic stress, this is a disciplinary infraction that warrants standard administrative recourse. Instead, the invigilator, Prof. Suryanarayan Doolla, allegedly bypassed procedural norms, subjecting Sahil to profound public humiliation and threats of immediate expulsion. This hostility was not a sudden outburst. For three months prior, Sahil’s father alleged that Prof. Doolla had constantly taunted and humiliated Sahil over his caste.

This tragic pattern echoes the institutional deaths of Darshan Solanki (2023) and Aniket Ambhore (2014), where internal mechanisms ultimately operated to shield the administration, and there is little reason yet to expect a different outcome this time.  In Solanki’s case, the 12-member internal committee headed by Prof. Nand Kishore shamelessly blamed his death on ‘poor academic performance’ and ‘aloofness,’ deliberately ignoring multiple testimonies and prior SC/ST Cell surveys that documented severe caste-based alienation on campus. Similarly, after Aniket Ambhore fell to his death, the A.K. Suresh Committee report recorded that professors had humiliated him for being a ‘category student’ and suggested he belonged in a ‘normal’ engineering college. Rather than penalizing the offending faculty, the institutional response minimized this overt casteist violence as mere ‘academic pressure,’ protecting the institution’s reputation at the direct expense of truth and accountability.

 

Administrative Deflection: Individualizing the Systemic

The administration’s immediate reflex was to criminalize Sahil, reducing a systemic failure to a singular moment of student misconduct. Within hours of his death, IIT Bombay hastily issued a statement explicitly accusing him of copying via AI, feeding a convenient “cheating” narrative to the media. When student outrage erupted over this blatant lack of empathy, the administration deleted the statement, only to issue an apology days later on X (formerly Twitter) which admitted it was ‘inappropriate’ to characterize details before investigations concluded, stripped of any meaningful accountability.

CCTV footage from the exam hall and hostel lobby entered the public record as part of the investigation. A source described the footage: between 12:30 and 12:45 PM, just minutes before the exam was to end at 1 pm, Sahil was seen bending and checking something in his pocket, after which Prof. Doolla was seen questioning him and taking him aside, away from other students. The same source said Wakode was then seen leaving the hall and, by around 1:25 pm, entering his hostel room, after which he did not leave again before he was found dead.

This timeline, once public, kept the story anchored to the exam-hall infraction: a student caught peeping at his phone, confronted by his invigilator, entering his room forty minutes later. What it does not show, and cannot show, is the three months of alleged caste-based taunting that preceded it. By foregrounding a visual record of the “cheating” moment while offering no equivalent documentation of the harassment the family alleges, the timeline reinforces the same individualizing frame as the administration’s original statement: it locates the cause of Sahil’s death in a single infraction rather than in a pattern of institutional hostility building for months.

 

The Crisis of Representation and Profound Isolation

The root cause of this unchecked harassment is the glaring absence of marginalized communities in positions of academic power. Out of 6,000 professors across IITs in the country, only 149 belong to Scheduled Castes (SC) and 21 to Scheduled Tribes (ST). This meager 2.8 percent vividly illustrates a reality of academic apartheid. Representation is an active structural antidote to institutional violence. When campuses lack Dalit, Adivasi, and Bahujan faculty, marginalized students are cut off from organic mentors who can decode their unique sociological realities and intervene before distress turns fatal. Without such allies in academic and administrative bodies, grievances of casteism inevitably hit a brick wall of apathy erected by an overwhelmingly upper-caste establishment, one that routinely lacks the sociological vocabulary to perceive caste violence, dismissing it as ‘individual merit failure.’ True representation breaks this cycle because faculty from oppressed backgrounds possess the institutional legitimacy to challenge biased disciplinary actions and dismantle the discriminatory peer dynamics and psychological isolation that force first-generation learners to internalize their trauma.

The systemic closing of ranks to protect upper-caste faculty is horrifying. Following protests by nearly 6,000 students, IIT Bombay merely removed Prof. Doolla from his post as Dean of Administrative Affairs, flatly refusing to suspend him from his active professorship. This distinction is a deeply sinister protection racket. By retaining his teaching, research, and departmental evaluation roles, the administration ensures that an individual accused of severe caste-based intimidation continues to wield life-and-death academic power over students in the very classrooms where these abuses occur. It signals to the campus that an accused upper-caste professor can be temporarily shuffled out of the public eye to defuse protests, while his systemic authority to grade, pass, or fail vulnerable students remains completely untouched. This ongoing structural proximity to power leaves marginalized learners utterly defenseless, trapped under the authority of the very educator accused of driving their peers to the edge.

In response to the criminal FIR filed under the SC/ST (Prevention of Atrocities) Act against Prof. Doolla, the ‘IIT Bombay Faculty Forum’ and the ‘IIT Delhi Faculty Forum’ rushed to issue coordinated defensive statements, framing Doolla as an educator ‘discharging his academic duties’ against a student accused of ‘academic malpractice.’ The IIT Delhi Faculty Forum audaciously condemned the massive student-led demonstrations, warning against what it termed ‘mob-driven behaviour’ that supposedly pressured the administration into taking action. This rhetorical framing is a cynical, institutional inversion of reality: it pathologizes student solidarity and legitimate political outrage as a ‘mob,’ criminalizing accountability while shielding an upper-caste professor from legal scrutiny. This collective closing of ranks exposes an ugly, protective arrogance: the system will ruthlessly safeguard its own elite status and shield its perpetrators at the direct expense of marginalized student lives.

 

Performative Gestures vs. Structural Remedies

Despite four students losing their lives under the tenure of the current Director, Prof. Shirish Kedare, the administration’s most heavily publicized “solution” to this crisis was a cynical architectural modification: removing ceiling fans from hostel rooms and installing wall-mounted ones. This administrative reflex lays bare a profound moral bankruptcy and an evasion of institutional responsibility. This shows a lack of comprehensive and considerate thinking toward student welfare. In the presence case, too, modifying ceiling fans treats only the final, terminal physical symptom of unbearable psychological distress, while leaving the actual, rotting disease, institutional casteism and unchecked faculty harassment, entirely untouched. This intervention operates on a perverse and absurd logic: it assumes that removing a mechanism of self-harm eliminates the profound despair that causes it, ignoring the toxic, hostile environment engineered by upper-caste hegemony that drives these brilliant minds to the edge. It is a hollow, paternalistic cosmetic fix designed solely to insulate the administration from legal liability and public outrage, substituting genuine, structural accountability with superficial tinkering that treats human lives as mere logistical inconveniences.

Nationwide, a staggering 171 students have committed suicide in IITs over the last 20 years. Altering the method of death while leaving the toxic environment intact is an insult to the lives lost. Real remedy cannot be found in performative, procedural gestures. The solutions must be structural and uncompromising:

Mandatory Anti-Caste Sensitization: Professors and administrators must undergo rigorous, mandatory anti-caste education to dismantle centuries-old biases, moving far beyond superficial paper compliance. This demand is a direct corrective necessitated by Prof. Doolla’s alleged conduct and the elite institutional immunity that protected him. Had rigorous anti-caste training been mandatory, the months of alleged casteist taunts, public humiliation in the exam hall, and the subsequent closing of ranks by faculty forums would have been treated as structural crimes rather than routine disciplinary exercises. Sensitization must dismantle the upper-caste impunity that allows figures in power to weaponize academic rules against marginalized students without administrative consequence.

Independent Investigations & Accountability: Internal inquiries are historically biased. Investigations into student deaths and allegations of caste discrimination must involve independent committees with external democratic representatives to ensure transparency, able to investigate faculty conduct and administrative attempts to shield those accused of misconduct. Their findings must lead to clear institutional action rather than being buried in internal procedures. No faculty body or administrative office should be allowed to investigate itself when students’ lives and allegations of caste discrimination are at stake.

Robust Mental Health Infrastructure: The emotional bankruptcy of these institutions must end. As demanded by the protesting students, there must be an independent audit of the Student Wellness Centre, the appointment of at least one counselor per hostel (or per 250 students), and 24/7 availability of trained psychiatrists equipped to understand the sociological realities of caste trauma. Students must be able to seek help without being treated as the problem or fearing consequences within the institution. Mental health support must recognise caste humiliation and discrimination as sources of distress rather than reducing every crisis to academic pressure.

True Representation: Aggressive and inclusive faculty recruitment policies must be enforced to bridge the 2.8% representation gap, bringing Dalit, Adivasi, and Bahujan voices into positions of academic authority. This cannot mean a few token appointments while decision-making remains dominated by the same social groups. Reserved positions must be filled and representation must extend to committees and positions with real institutional authority. Students should not have to navigate institutions where almost no one in a position of power shares or understands their social experience.

Until this arrogant system of so-called ‘merit’ acknowledges that its campuses function as exclusionary spaces for the marginalized, institutions like IIT Bombay will continue to fail their students. Accountability must be demanded, and the structural roots of casteism must be dismantled, so that no more students are driven to the edge by the very institutions meant to educate them.

 

 

Mujammil Shahin Siraj Shaikh is a Pune-based independent researcher and prospective PhD scholar examining structural inequality, public policy, and institutional power in modern India.

CERD Flags State Violence and Systemic Discrimination Across India

The UN Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination (CERD) has raised serious concerns over the treatment of some of India’s most marginalised communities, including Dalits, Adivasi and tribal peoples, Rohingya, Bengali-speaking Muslims, migrants and asylum-seekers. Its findings follow the first review of India by the Committee since 2007 and examine the country’s combined 20th and 21st periodic reports under the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination.

The findings were issued after CERD’s 118th session, which also examined Finland, Honduras and Kuwait. This was part of the Committee’s regular review of states that have signed the Convention. CERD’s concluding observations are not court judgments and do not have the force of law. They assess how governments are implementing their obligations under the Convention and identify areas where the Committee finds serious problems.

In India’s case, CERD raised concerns spanning caste, ethnicity, religion, citizenship and policing. One of its gravest concerns was the alleged conduct of law-enforcement agencies towards Indigenous and Tribal Peoples, Scheduled Tribes, Scheduled Castes, particularly Dalits, ethnic and ethno-religious groups and non-citizens. CERD recorded reports of excessive force, racially motivated violence, extrajudicial killings, arbitrary and prolonged detention, torture, ill-treatment and sexual violence. It called for prompt, thorough and impartial investigations, with accountability where violations are established.

The reference to Dalits and Scheduled Castes also brings an older disagreement into the review. The Indian government maintains that caste should not be treated as equivalent to race or “descent” for the purposes of CERD. Its submissions nevertheless contain information on Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes and measures intended to address their disadvantages. CERD’s treatment of caste within its examination of descent and discrimination places caste exclusion within the scope of the Committee’s scrutiny, even as the Indian state rejects that equivalence.

CERD also drew particular attention to Rohingya, Bengali-speaking Muslims, migrants and asylum-seekers. It noted an increase in law-enforcement operations involving these groups, particularly after a 2017 Home Affairs order and the April 2025 Pahalgam attack. Reports of police stops and identity checks based on racial profiling allegedly resulted in arbitrary arrests and detention, torture and other mistreatment. The Committee also raised concerns about deportations and forcible returns involving people who may require international protection.

During the review, CERD Country Rapporteur Stamatia Stavrinaki referred to independent monitoring that recorded more than 1,300 anti-Muslim hate-speech incidents in 2025, including recurring rhetoric attributed to senior officials. India’s delegation responded that legislation enacted in 2023 criminalises acts amounting to hate speech and hate crimes, with additional protections applying when offences target Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes. It also pointed to freedom of religion as a constitutional guarantee.

But CERD’s observations focused on what these protections mean in practice. Alongside the government’s account of its legal safeguards, the Committee recorded concerns about discrimination, hate speech, violence and the conduct of law-enforcement agencies. It called on India to address hate crimes against Rohingya, Bengali-speaking Muslims, migrants and asylum-seekers, refrain from collective expulsions and ensure access to international protection. This includes respecting non-refoulement, the principle that people should not be returned to a place where they face a serious risk of persecution or other grave harm.

The findings also address citizenship and documentation. CERD noted the absence of adequate disaggregated data on Indigenous and Tribal Peoples, ethnic and ethno-religious groups, migrants, refugees, asylum-seekers and stateless people. It highlighted the categorisation of Bengali-speaking Muslims as “non-original inhabitants” and reports that they face more stringent scrutiny during National Register of Citizens verification. The Committee also noted that much of India’s available data on Scheduled Castes, Scheduled Tribes and refugees still derives from the 2011 Census, while acknowledging the delayed 2026 Census and its proposed collection of caste data through self-identification.

The treatment of Bengali-speaking Muslims in the NRC process raises a broader question about how citizenship is administered. CERD’s concern is not simply that documentation is required, but that particular ethnic and religious groups are reportedly subjected to different levels of scrutiny. In a political environment where Muslims are repeatedly cast as outsiders or demographic threats, administrative categories such as “non-original inhabitants” can acquire consequences beyond paperwork. The NRC thus becomes part of a wider system in which belonging is subjected to heightened state verification.

The concerns around Rohingya also sit within a longer history of UN scrutiny. A 2025 communication by UN Special Procedures carried allegations that deportation operations against Muslims, including Rohingya, intensified after the Pahalgam attack, involving raids, arrests, ill-treatment and forcible returns. Those allegations came through a separate UN process and were not findings by CERD or a judicial determination.

India is not a party to the 1951 Refugee Convention or its 1967 Protocol and has no comprehensive national refugee law. UNHCR therefore carries out protection-related functions for refugees and asylum-seekers in the country. This absence has become more significant alongside changes to India’s citizenship and immigration regime.

The Citizenship (Amendment) Act, 2019 was defended by BJP ministers as addressing the unfinished business or “wrongs” of Partition. Yet the CAA was not a refugee law. It created a religion-based route to accelerated citizenship for specified non-Muslim communities from Pakistan, Bangladesh and Afghanistan. It did not establish a general system of refugee protection based on persecution or the risk of serious harm.

And in 2025, Parliament enacted the Immigration and Foreigners Act, replacing four earlier laws governing the entry and treatment of foreign nationals. The new law consolidated the state’s immigration powers without creating a corresponding refugee protection framework. CERD’s call for protection against collective expulsions and respect for non-refoulement therefore comes alongside a strengthened legal machinery for controlling and removing foreign nationals, while India still lacks a dedicated process for determining who requires refugee protection. For Rohingya and other asylum-seekers, that leaves a basic question: what domestic procedure requires the danger they may face after removal to be considered before the state deports them?

India’s delegation, led by Solicitor General Tushar Mehta, defended the country’s legal framework and its claims of pluralism and equality. The government reiterated its position that caste should not be equated with race or “descent” under the Convention and pointed to legislation addressing hate speech and protections for Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes.

CERD’s findings place those claims alongside reports of how state institutions operate on the ground. The Committee’s concerns cover law-enforcement violence against Dalits and Adivasi and tribal communities, anti-Muslim hate speech, racial profiling of Bengali-speaking Muslims and Rohingya, and the treatment of people whose citizenship or immigration status is under scrutiny.

For Dalit and Adivasi communities, and for Muslims and other minorities whose belonging is increasingly subjected to state scrutiny, the findings also expose how Hindu nationalism operates through state power. Caste discrimination, communal targeting, citizenship enforcement and policing are often treated as separate questions, even as they converge in the lives of communities whose relationship with the state is shaped by unequal power. CERD’s observations bring these questions into the same examination of discrimination and direct attention towards the institutions through which unequal treatment is carried out.