(If) I Get To The Club, I Wanna Hear Those Club classics: What’s Wrong With Clubs and Societies at Ashoka

On March 26th, an incensed email titled “Addressing Bias and Favoritism in Club, Society, and Event Selections” was sent to the entire student body. In this, Manoj N. (UG ‘27) expressed disappointment at the “nepotism, internal politics and bias” that occurs during inductions for various clubs and societies. Notably, he cited the most recent Banjaara (Ashoka’s flagship two-day cultural event that hosts various inter-collegiate competitions and activities), where selections of Heads of Department(s) and members alike were allegedly done out of favouritism and familiarity, rather than qualification. It seems that this is not a one-off case, as is evident by a whopping amount of prompt responses Manoj was flooded with following his email—more than 25 voices of assent. Ironically, this year’s Banjaara theme was Rangsaaj, one that “celebrated the spectrum of identities, voices, and experiences that make up the world we live in.”

This email echoed a sentiment I’d already formed in my short time here: most well-reputed and widely-known clubs and societies at Ashoka fail to wholly enrich the student body. For starters, they are notoriously exclusive; while the favouritism point is quite evident in this case, another aspect of this exclusivity ensures that only those who had opportunities to explore or train in skills and hobbies are selected. While I recognise the need for a space for skilled individuals, shouldn't some avenues facilitate learning hobbies and skills for those who haven’t encountered them beyond Ashoka—especially in a university that prides itself on its holistic learning? It is not an unrealistic expectation to consider the majority of students who may not have had access to honing talents and hobbies like acapella singing, abstract art, or even playing the piano. Currently, there are very few non-sport clubs and societies catering to teaching individuals a skill or talent. Interestingly however,  the shooting club differs in this with an interesting model: a tri-vertical system of inductees, with one consisting of professional, advanced competitive shooters, another of novices and hobby pursuers, and the last one of interested students looking to learn the sport. It seems like other clubs and societies at Ashoka, especially skill-based ones like Vistaar (Ashoka’s Music Society), Abhinaya (Ashoka’s Dance Society), The Green Room (Ashoka’s theatre club) and such, could benefit from this system.  Such an idea provides both an opportunity for those looking to develop new skills or hone amateurish talents, as well as a space for professionals to compete and grow. 

In an interview with The Edict, Manoj elaborates, “I have experienced this in both my first year and now…many clubs, on their induction forms, mention that no prior expertise or experience is needed to apply; however, when one mentions this very fact, they are almost always rejected, with no further reasoning. I had no access to spaces like the Business Club before college, which is why being turned down for this lack of experience—despite the form saying otherwise—is disheartening, and has been experienced by several others including me.” That this exclusivity may not even be limited to lack of prior experience is where allegations of favouritism become an especially sore point.  Another second-year student (UG ‘27) who spoke with The Edict on the same, cited Banjaara’s Head of Department(s) (HoDs) induction process for various verticals as the most glaring example— despite having prior work experience and a smooth interview, members of the Safety and Security team were rejected in favour of the inductors’ friends. And the bias does not end there—it sometimes endures long after one becomes a member as well. A member (UG '28) of Epigraph (Ashoka’s literary society) talks of leaders using their position to undermine the opinions of members, favour their friends be it in inductions or delegating work, and promote an unequal distribution of work with members bearing the brunt of it. 

The bias can also extend to non-members, in terms of representation of the club’s ethos, public presence and activities. In an interview with The Edict, a member of the social media department at HerCampus states that “there is some level of comfort saying that you know if you see someone you are friends with or know it's a lot easier to approach them and ask them to be part of a deal.” According to the same member, 70% of HerCampus’ team is composed of cisgender, heterosexual individuals, despite their claims to induct members of “diverse backgrounds”. When asked about diversity of prospective inductees and members, a member of CLAD (Ashoka’s fashion club) said that they want “freshness and uniqueness over presenting an elitist, sort of inaccessible approach to fashion”; yet, the same member simultaneously admitted that class and caste consciousness is “not something that we can work into, or something that is easily perceptible when it comes to... our composition.” The contradiction in that statement is omniscient of the core issue in Ashoka’s club membership. Coupled with the fact that both clubs talk of inducting more men into their clubs to encourage diverse membership, this surface-level attitude towards unequal and fair representation is concerning. Membership bias manifests in many forms, be it favouring one’s friends or an entire homogenous category of students simply because it is ‘comfortable’. 

It would be unfair to discuss the exclusivity of clubs and societies at Ashoka without addressing the dysfunctionality of the facilities provided to them, and how it limits the few within these spaces. When the legendary A.R. Rahman visited Ashoka University for the first time in early December last year, the famous musician was shown nearly every campus facility—all except Ashoka’s music room, ironically. The title music room is quite literal in that sense; a tiny, cramped corner near the tuck shop, with barely enough space to fit all the JimJams (Vistaar’s western choir vertical) members at once, let alone the scanty instruments available. 

Ashoka’s administration has been known to regulate budgets for clubs and societies, to the point where essential equipment for societies like Vistaar is sorely lacking. The funding for clubs and societies is infamously quite inadequate, sometimes inadvertently making the motive of the club  to raise enough money, instead of enriching members’ skills. Epigraph’s member says that she can’t describe the society as having a “discernible culture” as such; it was more concerned with mustering monetary support. This lack of funds is reflected even outside official fundraising options: many members of clubs such as untitled. (Ashoka’s visual arts club) and JimJams (the western choir vertical of Vistaar) are, at times, expected to pay out of their own pockets to even pursue club activities. In an interview with The Edict, first-year members of both clubs have detailed how the lack of equipment and funding necessitated the use of members’ amplifiers and guitars, as well as individuals buying art supplies without later reimbursement. During a recent meeting of academic societies and clubs with the Dean, it was announced that clubs and societies would receive a 100% increase in budget, which is commendable and certainly promising. However, it is a fact that some clubs do have more budgetary requirements than others, as each differ in the nature and character of the activities they undertake. An equal raise of budget for all clubs and societies might not have intended results considering some still have a significant chunk of their budget left untouched by the end of the semester, and others struggle to repair their aged equipment on the very same budgetary allotment. 

The monetary factor also limits the members that can wholly participate in and pursue club activities based on financial means, which perpetuates a whole new level of exclusivity.  Furthermore, stringent induction processes become a necessity to allow for only highly talented individuals to avail of the already-tight facilities and space. Does this not, however, curtail their capabilities and success as well? Three first-year students (UG ‘28)—members of Vistaar in varying capacities—attest to this fact, speaking of how a chronic lack of equipment makes them feel “helpless” during many showcases as they cannot give acceptable performances; this inevitably results in past-midnight practice and a lack of harmony amongst members (in more ways than one), which puts additional stress on members with already-rigorous academic schedules. 

As a whole, this condition of clubs and societies has a direct impact on our experience on campus—particularly our anticipation of the 'Ashokan' experience that inevitably entails a residential experience beyond the academic. Bound to the campus for a large portion of our time here, our cultural and social life is fully harboured by the university. With that in mind, one wonders what alternative spaces exist for students to decompress from the rigour of Ashoka’s academics and enrich their lives with extra-curricular engagements, if the opportunities provided to them are less than satisfactory. Moreover, clubs are a primary avenue for long-term inter-batch bonding and communication. Classes are semester-wise, making it unlikely to form intra-batch connections, let alone with seniors/juniors. Here, clubs become a more informal outlet to foster communication and friendship, as well as gain mentorship from those more experienced than you. If most of Ashoka is barred from this experience, this sense of community fails to carry forward. Furthermore, for the few who do make it past the bias or intense screening, the rewards are few and far in between. How else do we de-stress and explore new interests if the simple act of getting into clubs is more strenuous than applying to Ashoka itself?

Edited by: Madiha Tariq