In July, two girls from Allahabad University, Neha Yadav and Rama Yadav, and another student, Kishan Maurya, waved black flags in front of Bharatiya Janata Party president Amit Shah’s convoy. They were protesting against the treatment of students by the Uttar Pradesh government. The response from the government was brutal. The flag-waving girls were dragged by the hair, beaten, and had cases slapped against them on charges of rioting and disturbing the peace.
This is not the first such case. Last year, another student from U.P., Pooja Shukla, had to spend nearly a month in jail for showing black flags to U.P. Chief Minister Yogi Adityanath. There are two pertinent points to consider here: the black flag, and the person waving it, a university student. What is it about this combo that seems to terrify the state so much?
Waving a black flag is perhaps the most innocuous form of non-violent protest imaginable. It is not a dharna, it is not a march or a public rally, and it doesn’t involve the narrative build-up of a rousing speech — all of which are legitimate means of protest protected under the Indian Constitution. However, while all of these are collective expressions of dissent, requiring resources and coordination among a good number of like-minded people, waving a black flag requires nothing more than a piece of black cloth or a rag. It is a form of protest that is available to the lone individual, to a citizen unaffiliated to any political party or group but who nonetheless wants to communicate her dissent to a representative of the state that she believes has grown deaf to her complaints.
Unlike a hunger strike, which, too, is a means of protest available to the individual, waving a black flag doesn’t even need publicity from the mass media to build pressure in favour of thedemands. All that is needed is for a few others — fellow citizens, onlookers — to witness the few seconds of the gesture, and it is done. But today even this modest symbolic protest seems intolerable to the public servants of a country that prides itself on being a democracy.
What is particularly ironic is that the state’s reprisals — Ms. Shukla claimed that she has been denied admission to a postgraduate course because of her act of protest — are being visited upon girl students. This makes a mockery of the ‘Beti Bachao, Beti Padhao’ campaign that is being propagated extensively using public money. Police cases and jail time, in addition to being academically disruptive, are bound to damage a young student’s career prospects. This is a steep price to pay for exercising one’s constitutional right. It is a worrying sign when a government that has seen scores of elected representatives emerge from student politics begins to display zero tolerance for political activism among students.
The writer is Social Affairs Editor, The Hindu
