Professor Nirmala Jain is a retired professor of Hindi literature from Delhi University, and a well-known literary critic. A few days ago, after reading her commentary on some well-known Hindi writers (such as Krishna Sobti, Usha Priyamvada and Mannu Bhandari), I was curious to learn more about her own literary journey. Her autobiography, "Zamane Mein Hum" is a detailed memoir of her life, covering her childhood (she was born in the early 1930s), her long academic career at Delhi University, and her literary associations. I started reading the book in earnest during recent travel, and it gave me an opportunity to reflect on personal resilience in the midst of unrelenting family struggles, the twists and turns of an academic journey, and the joy of being part of an academic ecosystem abundant with talented, purpose-driven scholars. Her journey also provides a glimpse into academically vibrant institutions with great potential devolving into uninspiring workspaces that no longer fulfill that potential. This is the story of many universities in India.
Professor Jain was among the cohort of lecturers who started teaching at Lady Shriram College in the year of its inception, 1956. She spent 14 years at the college. Her interview for the position was chaired by its founder, Lala Shriram, the owner of Delhi Cloth Mills, who also carefully mentored the institution in its early years. She witnessed the change of campus from a small school in Darya Ganj to its current location in Lajpat Nagar with its iconic red building and 55 pillars. She describes the efforts that the faculty members put into the academic training of their students (who came from diverse socio-economic backgrounds) and in creating an atmosphere that fostered wholesome growth encompassing the arts and culture.
This part of her memoir was fascinating to me for two reasons. My undergraduate education was completed at Lady Shriram College (LSR). The college provided a safe, nurturing space for three years to study and reflect on the way forward. As I entered the college gate every morning after a long, tiring commute from Noida, the red building and its 55 pillars represented a welcoming space that manifested everything positive in my life at that point [0]. A couple of years after graduating, I read the novel "Pachpan Khambein Laal Deewarein" (translation: 55 pillars and red walls) by Usha Priyamvada [1], who was also among the new faculty members who had joined the college. In the world of this novel, however, these pillars and walls symbolized the emotional suffocation of the protagonist. "How could the author not see this space as the intellectually stimulating space that I experienced", my younger self wondered [2]. On the other hand, Professor Jain's narrative was closer to how I viewed the institution, a space that provided its members the resources and opportunities to grow and find their way forward.
The other reason why I enjoyed reading this part of her story is because it resonated with my experience of starting a faculty position at a new institution. I joined IISER Kolkata (and later, IISER Pune) in their early years, and saw many transitions of the kind that she describes at LSR. At a new institution, faculty members have to work with limited resources and often have to take up roles well beyond the purview of the classroom in order to contribute to institution-building [3]. Just as the young Nirmala Jain and her colleagues benefitted from mentoring and encouragement by Lala Shriram and other institution builders, we were fortunate to be mentored by inspiring academic leaders such as Professor Ganesh and Professor Shashidhara through tough academic phases (individual as well as institutional). The birth and growth pangs of a new institution intermingled with our personal quest for scientific and intellectual growth. Reading this part of the memoir revived memories of the journey of the IISERs in the early years.
The later part of the memoir starts to get somber. We now start reading stories about the downslide of institutions when a handful of people acquire disproportionate power and start putting themselves above the institution. We read about bureaucratic shenanigans by academics to hurt colleagues who have demonstrated higher scholarly merit, and situations where students try to acquire academic benefits through "extracurricular" means, overlooking the importance of individual, focused effort at the study table. Professor Jain lived through an era which saw the degeneration of many Indian universities into living nightmares. The early phases of this degeneration were also observed by Harivansh Rai Bachchan (a distinguished poet and a professor at Allahabad University who later quit academia) in the third volume of his autobiography. Professor Jain saw institutions in various phases: birth, growth, collapse and renewal. Her memoir presents the story of Delhi University from her point of view. Thanks to her own academic preparation, intellectual curiosity and association with the leading litterateurs of the day, she worked to keep the academic culture of her department alive and thriving. For example, dedicated teachers organized regular conferences and seminars to ensure that students and department members were exposed to distinguished poets and writers who were leading significant literary movements in their times.
The coming up of institutions such as the IISERs, new Central Universities, new IITs and NITs represents a promising phase in science and education in our country (similar to what the older universities represented in the earlier part of the 20th century). The somber part of Jain's memoir makes us reflect on what keeps an academic culture flowing and growing versus the attitudes/actions that have the opposite effect. Can we continue with the resolution and clarity of vision to put academic excellence above all else? Can we support and nurture academic potential in ourselves, our colleagues and students? Can we show up every morning to our work with a sense of wonder, and a commitment to give it our best?
[0] It's a different matter that I had to walk across this part of the building into a darker, less inspiring section where the mathematics classes were conducted.
[1] The pen-name of Professor Usha Saxena-Nilsson, who later worked at Allahabad University and the University of Wisconsin-Madison.
[2] I learnt to appreciate that no author is obliged to represent something exactly as I view it, even if the topic is close to my heart :-)
[3] For example, folklore has it that Professor Ambika, one of our earliest faculty members at IISER Pune who also served as dean (academics), personally intervened to wake up students who slept late and were at the risk of missing their exams.
