Sandhya Kamal is a 22-year old who works in a Bangalore MNC. This week Kamal found that her simple desire to get a get a MA would require her to shut her eyes towards a massive scam. This is what happened.
19th June,2013
I had taken the week away from work for the MA exams at the Karnataka State Open University. After my undergraduate college, it did seem like a step down, this correspondence course. But I told myself that it’s a quick piece of paper that would help me find better employment and a higher salary. I had decided to grit my teeth and get through it.
The examination centre was in Hosur, Tamil Nadu 50 kms away from Bangalore. We were told that no examination centre closer to us was available. My father and I set out, at 6:45 am to reach the exam centre on time.
On the day of the first exam, I got my hall ticket at 9:45 am, for an exam scheduled at 9:30 am after multiple calls to the person who was carrying these hall tickets. I entered the massive exam room that served as multiple classrooms. There was terrible lighting, and another class went on loudly while I was writing my exams.
10 minutes in, invigilators announced that they charged Rs. 500/- in “hall expenses”. I asked one of the men what this included. He answered curtly: “We are helping you, so you will pay us for that”. He then announced that everyone was allowed to use textbooks; that it was an open-book exam.
I wasn’t sure what to believe. I looked around me, and everyone was copying from textbooks. I decided not to use mine at all. I was the first to finish my exam. I submitted my paper and left.
The second exam went in a similar manner. I reached 45 minutes early, excited to write about one of my favourite people in Literature – Shakespeare. The exam began at 10 am because of a delay in printing the question papers. Husbands of candidates came in to help and everyone discussed answers freely – as if the textbook wasn’t enough aid.
My dad had peeped in, and noticed that I was the only one not using the textbook. He said he was proud of me. That evening, my family and I discussed the situation. We had decided to take a picture or two as proof that we would send to the press or the authorities. Surely we could do something.
The next day, at the third exam, I was reminded of the money I needed to pay. Everyone else had paid. But there was no infrastructure here to speak of. Also, I was advised at my study centre not to pay this money. I wasn’t going to.
Soon, we heard the shutter sound. And suddenly, there was a commotion outside. Dad had taken pictures of us from the window and it caused a panic. They threatened to manhandle him into surrendering his phone and deleting the pictures. All the men came into the room, clearly shaken by the incident and desperate to do some damage control. They instructed everyone to put their bags and phones away.
They whispered hurriedly to each other and pointed at me. I was asked to give them my father’s phone number. I refused. They took my answer sheet and made a note of my roll number. At this point, I was beyond disgusted. I dropped the answer sheet and walked out. I told myself that I didn’t need a degree. Not this way.
I stormed out and walked fast to the main road. I spotted my dad’s car and started crossing the road to get in.
Someone grabbed my hand. I turned to see 4 uniformed boys from the institute telling me I was wanted back inside. I refused to go and tried to free my grabbed hand. They physically dragged me towards the college. I looked at my father. He was saying something from the car but I couldn’t hear. He couldn’t move as 3 other men were waiting for him to get out of the car. I started screaming. They took me by both my hands and shoulders. I was dragged across the road into the gully and they tried to lift me off the ground, catching hold of my legs. I screamed and struggled. I tried to kick them away. Nothing seemed to work.
They put me down on the road at some point. People gathered, including two constables and one of the invigilators. I wailed and cried. Strangers were trying to calm me down but I was too scared. I heard the constable question the boys. The invigilator pointed at me sitting on the road and said with a great display of quick-wittedness that I had cheated in the exam. One of the constables replied that was no way to treat a girl.
I finally managed to call my dad, who said he was calling the police. We got away and drove home shaken. Of course, we’ve heard that India is full of strange, dishonest and violent situations but I felt that my bubble was completely shattered.
That day as I was trying to somehow make my way to my father’s car and safety, the brother of a candidate had hung around. He kept telling me to not cry because I was making a scene on the road and making a fool of myself. He said I was safe and that I should just forget about it. “Why do want to report this, what use is it going to be?” Perhaps, no use at all. Because I will get over this, I told myself. Like honest citizens in this country do, every day, when they are let down and wronged by a flawed system and a skewed mindset.
But eventually my family and I decided to pursue this. We let the media know and soon after, to our surprise, things started moving. The state government issued a show-cause notice to the KSOU Vice-chancellor. To our greater surprise, the Minister for Higher Education Mr RV Deshpande and the Higher Education Principal Secretary Rajneesh Goel both visited my home. They promised an enquiry and asked me to file a complaint against KSOU. They also promised that the KSOU would not be able to declare results until the enquiry was complete.
I am proud of what I did. But I have also felt nervous all of this week, especially when I am alone. I wonder whether I will ever have the courage for a confrontation like this again. But here’s the thing. I went to a excellent autonomous university in Bangalore for my BA. I was raised to value honesty. We worked hard. And through it, we laughed and complained like any other set of college students. We had our issues and dissatisfactions but my college never made me think that it was out of the ordinary to expect a high-quality education.
I told myself right after the incident that I wasn’t going back to write the remainder of these exams. This isn’t education. Someday, perhaps next year, I will get a Master’s that won’t make me sick to my stomach. And I can promise you this – my family, friends, society and employers will learn to tell the difference.