Edited by: Kavya Mittal
Hello and welcome to the undergraduate batch of 2024,
You belong here.
In the weeks coming, you will be asked to question a lot of things. Fundamental ideas, tenets and opinions you hold close to yourself will be challenged to Jacobian duels, so be ready with your lance. All jokes apart, and hopefully on a less bloodier note, welcome to Ashoka University.
Your time at Ashoka could very well be a grand game of raja mantri chor sipahi where everyone asks questions until there is no person left standing. I sound vague, possibly pointless, but hear me out. The beauty and enigma of this university is in the space it will give – a space of exploration, of reckoning, and one that allows you to challenge yourself.
In the weeks to come, especially orientation, you will find yourself wondering how you got here – you will listen to a room full of people talk about their years of volunteer experience, or the stories that they have published in literary journals and see the raised hands when asked how many people have been in their student council during high school.
And that comes with a multiplying feeling of being here by accident. That feeling of being fake in a sea full of talented people is about as Ashokan as it gets. The irony is that collectively we are all isolated in our belief that this university took us in by mistake.
Contrarily, the process of admission at Ashoka is a grueling one. There is a certain expectation of academic rigour, a holistic portfolio, and varied co-curricular skills. It takes time to fill out the application form, write our essays, and hand over a small part of our hopes and dreams to the admissions committee. Don’t forget that. Especially because it becomes so easy to dismiss your hardwork and the value of your skills when faced with the variety and exposure of a place like Ashoka.
Your insights will feel less meaningful than somebody’s else in the classroom. They will seem better prepared, better suited for this space. Then on a particularly trying day, one where you mumbled in class and a paper is due, you will spill your guts to the friend who intimidated you with their smarts in class – only for them to repeat “Dude, I think I got in by accident.” There was a pervasive feeling of fraudulence among us, because we had convinced ourselves we were the only clowns who got in.
This feeling became so intense that I convinced myself I needed to leave the clubs I was inducted into so that they could find someone worthy of those roles. In taking any decision at university, the feeling of not having an authority figure to fall back on furthered my belief that I, ‘the biggest fool,’ was running a one-woman scam that had managed to deceive an entire university’s admissions team and my professors, as well as the odd dozen of skilled students who ran these clubs and societies. Quite frankly, that feeling is still with me, sitting on my shoulder, cackling a little bit, even as I write this.
This feeling of fraudulence has changed my pattern of speech as well. I now begin every mumbly monologue with a self-admonishing smile, an apologetic shrug, and the phrases “I hope this makes sense…” or “I’m not sure but…” This is also the speech pattern of all the people in my classes and clubs who I admire for their wits and poise. Ah! The stupidity of it all.
This is pluralistic ignorance. It drives us all to feel like we alone feel unworthy of and unqualified to take up responsibilities and win accolades. It had me convinced that I could not talk to anyone about this because I alone seemed to be feeling this. Let me assure you that this is unequivocally false. Talk to your friends about this, with members of your discussion sessions or people you are partnered with in group assignments. This uncertainty and feeling of being a con-artist doesn’t stem from your failing skill set but rather the isolation that can come from comparing yourself to others around you, and assuming their superiority in those skills.
So talk to people you know or it will only be end semester, when in a farewell discussion session you will sit and chat with the same people you were intimidated by, only to realise you are all a little bit foolish and very smart. Because you are very smart, exceptionally so. You are skilled. You are talented. And perhaps most importantly, you deserve to be here.