Longing for an Ashoka That Cares

A “home away from home” and Pathologisation of Mental Health at Ashoka

A while back, I wrote a frustrated email to the student body, informing them about a specific situation that my friend was dealing with. 

For context, my friend was asked to leave campus and his internship was rolled back, since he was struggling with mental health issues -- and as a student on financial aid, I felt for him.

The screenshot of my email, sent on May 17, 2025.

Not being able to stay on campus means being physically disconnected from your friends, belongings, and the safety of your room—which many of us associate with the feeling of home. Ashoka proudly welcomed us during Orientation week, calling itself a “home away from home.” 

My email also stemmed from the sadness of losing my friend earlier this year to mental health battles. It is  a sad situation that, under the guise of “student safety” and care, students are being sent back to their homes—uprooted from their friends, opportunities, and academic life.

The "Certification" of Wellbeing

The parents of the “mentally unfit” students are often informed immediately of the situation at hand and receive an email that demands three documents, with the Mental Fitness certificate being financially and time-intensive to procure:

Medical Fitness Certificate

Medical Review by University-Empaneled Doctors

Final Approval to Rejoin

Hence, many students have been asked to come back in Monsoon 2025 instead (given that these approvals are processed). While on the surface, this policy seems fair to ensure that students receive the help they require to function properly in the university environment, but it disproportionately affects students on financial aid, low-income groups, and marginalized communities. The discontinuation of paid or unpaid opportunities impacts the student’s academic and financial life—and costs them a semester's worth of time spent in trying to get mental health approvals and convincing the admin that they can be “normal” – an ambiguous state of mind that is determined by submission of required documents. Where, then, is the feeling of “home”?

The students are, unfortunately, not consulted before the decision. One must leave in haste; many students often don’t end up “moving out” of their rooms - this process is taken care of by Residence Life over a video call with the student. Students who temporarily visit campus (to meet friends, or to take care of errands) after being abruptly pushed out walk fearfully, afraid of the Residence Life members spotting them on campus. Students generally cannot visit the campus by logging in with their QR Code (or Card) during the summer break either. The entire process tends to push one further into stress and isolation (even if that might not be the intent) and makes one regret asking for help.  

Psychiatric care costs a significant amount of money, and medications are hard to obtain. Pharmacists do not let you buy medicines without a prescription. Many individuals from queer communities do not feel safe or accepted at their parental home; they are often dead-named, shamed, and even abused, which further contributes to their distress. 

The present-day mental health policies of the university affect all of us. You, me, your friends, and my friends.

And then comes the barrier of Mental Health literacy in Indian households, which most of us are aware of. In the Indian vocabulary, there is no “mental health”. In my twenty years of life, I never heard my mother or father using the word “depression” to express that they’re sad or depressed – they just say they are “bored” and work to “distract themselves”. 

Looking Inwards

Ashoka has both a Psychology department consisting of scholars from various disciplines within psychology, ACWB, and a student body that is always encouraged to think critically and motivated to move towards “excellence”. An approach that would look for solutions and a cure (with the help of all these stakeholders) rather than an abrupt pause to the student’s life at Ashoka would be something that’s much more bottom-up.

Looking inwards and asking difficult questions would help us get there. 

What typically makes an Ashoka student depressed or anxious? 

What are the broader-level problems that are affecting the student body’s mental well-being?

What are the structural changes that we can make to fix this problem?

Mental health difficulties do not arise in a vacuum, nor do they arise in a day or two. The entire discipline of Social Psychology aims to make us understand that individuals are very much affected by the social setting they live in—many psychologists use an intersectional framework to understand the complexities of human experience—acknowledging that individuals can hold multiple overlapping social identities (like race, gender, religion, class, caste and sexuality), all of which shape an individual’s lived experiences.

Amidst the clubs, academic rigour, and a close-knit social life on campus, individualism tends to take hold of many of us. We find ourselves in cycles of overworking and burning out. Many students report and believe that Ashoka’s culture is individualistic—students are busy chasing accomplishments, internships, grades, and possible approvals. 

“Individualism separates people from the human connection they need to thrive. Then, when an individual develops the desire to die in an effort to escape excruciatingly painful loneliness, they are pathologized and punished with further ostracism. This society harms people in various ways, then punishes them for their valid reactions to being harmed.” (@spectaculaurthoughts on Twitter)

We are often our own worst critics; a life spent cocooned only in one's thoughts ought to bear significant risks to mental health. I then encourage you, the reader, to think about how our peers who are going through a quiet isolation, must be feeling.

After I sent my email back on May 17. I received emails from distressed students talking about their experiences with leaving the campus and regretting taking the help offered on campus. I feel for them and see them as my friends and peers going through a difficult period, away from friends and a sense of community that one may find at Ashoka. I long for an Ashoka that cares for its students empathetically.

Sending students away also means letting go of accountability. Once the student is off campus and with their parents, struggling to get all the approvals, the problem becomes theirs to handle.

But why do I write about this issue again after sending the email? Because I believe that we deserve better, given what happened in Spring 2025. I wish that we had systems and mechanisms that would make everyone feel like they deserve to live a good life on this campus. 

Nothing is worse than losing a friend. Yet I still write about it, because while I can’t bring him back, I can make an attempt to help others realize that life is worth living. In April 2025, I got a semi-colon tattoo on my hand—a metaphor for deciding to continue one’s life despite adversity. 

Suicide is not just a “personal choice” but an action influenced by socio-political environments. It also reflects an institutional, and a community-level shortcoming. 

We cannot be shunned for feeling helpless; that will never solve the problem. As one of my friends said, “for someone to step back from the ledge, the ledge needs space to stand, breathe, and to be embraced”. 

The “ledge” is the bottomless pit of sadness, and also the physical edge of a building, “space”  is the physical, psychological time and space to feel one’s emotions, and “embracing” is what the community can do when an individual opens up about their difficulties. I wish that our peers do not have to go through a quiet isolation, but are able to grow through it.

Update : This essay was in the works for a week before the new mental health related policies were introduced.