My Burkha Struggle

Sirin Middya, 24, refused to bow to the diktats of her students at Aliah University and don a burkha. In an Open exclusive, Sirin speaks about her fight.

Sirin Middya, 24, refused to bow to the diktats of her students at Aliah University and don a burkha. As a result, she was transferred from the University’s Haji Mohsin Square campus in central Kolkata to the more placid administrative campus at Salt Lake. From lecturer to an assistant librarian . But she stood firm and forced the authorities to transfer her back to the Haji Mohsin Square campus, where she returned after nearly four months last week. But it is only after Eid, when students will be back on campus post Ramzan, that she’ll know if she has really won her battle.

I joined Aliah University, Kolkata, as a lecturer of Bengali in March this year. There were eight of us (lady teachers) on that campus and only two wore the hijab. A few weeks after I joined, a senior lady teacher was summoned by some students’ union leaders and asked to convey to us that we’d be required to wear burkhas from now on.

We were shocked at the diktat, and immediately went to the deputy registrar to find out if there was any dress code for teachers. He said there was none and since all of us dress decently, students shouldn’t have any problems. He also said he’d talk to these student leaders.

The day after that, the general secretary and assistant general secretary of the students’ union rang me up and wanted to know why we went to the authorities. They told us that they had forced all girl students of the varsity to wear burkhas, and we’d either have to follow suit or stay away from the campus. I tried to reason with them. I told them that to force anyone to do anything against his or her wishes was against the tenets of Islam. But they wouldn’t listen.

I told the authorities about their call, and they advised me to stay away from the campus until things cooled down. They also asked me to report to the Salt Lake campus, and assigned me the job of assistant librarian there.

In the meantime, the students staged a series of demonstrations at the Haji Mohsin Square campus with placards asking lady teachers to wear burkhas on the premises. Senior teachers tried to reason with the students again, but to no avail. Ultimately, they gave in. They kept spare burkhas in a room just beyond the main gate of the campus. Lady teachers were expected to wear those and take their classes. It was ludicrous. The whole world could see their faces outside, but inside the university, they’d be covered. What’s more, these lady teachers taught only girl students at the campus!

I could not bring myself to surrender to the diktat. For one, there was no dress code for teachers in the varsity rules. Two, the students were imposing their will and wouldn’t listen to reason. It amounts to disrespect for teachers.

I’ve always stood up to injustice, and this time, too, I had to fight. For instance, while travelling, I often see men occupying seats reserved for ladies. I immediately object. At times, I have faced unpleasant situations, but that hasn’t deterred me from doing what is right and justified. So when this injustice was being done, and that too against me, there was no way I’d take it lying down.

The imposition of a diktat by these students was also a challenge to the sanctity of the student-teacher relationship that’s based on mutual respect and understanding. It is like a mother-son or mother-daughter relationship. So it was like a child ordering his parent to wear a burkha, and that can never be acceptable. Students cannot order their teachers to follow a dress code.

I heard that the students’ union at the Haji Mohsin Square campus had harassed teachers earlier too. They forced a teacher who caught a student cheating in an exam to stay away from the campus for several weeks. A lady teacher was humiliated and denied entry to the campus for wearing a dress the union considered indecent. Given such unruly behaviour, it was time someone stood up to them.

My family has been very supportive in this struggle. My father, Sadrul Middya, a medical practitioner, and my mother, Gulnaher Begum, who used to teach Sanskrit at a college earlier, rallied around me. They have always been against forcing any woman to wear a burkha. I don’t know anyone, even among my distant relatives, who has ever worn this covering. Yes, my mother was a bit apprehensive about my safety, but that’s normal. And I don’t think my fight has marked me out as a rebel in my society. People have been understanding. No one has criticised us or passed remarks against us. My sister Parveen, who studies in Class 10, is quite cool about the whole thing.

After TV channels started carrying my interviews, some people called up my house to enquire if I was speaking against the burkha and asking other women not to wear it. But all were told that we (my family and I) are not against the burkha per se, but anyone being forced to wear it. If a woman wears it of her own free will, no one can have anything against it. But to force her is wrong. People understood and appreciated this point.

 As for the other teachers, they were supportive initially, and encouraged me to fight it out. But soon, fear overtook them and they suggested that I also should wear a burkha. They said nothing would come of my fight. Perhaps they were being practical. But I knew I wouldn’t give up. I wrote to Aliah’s vice- chancellor and also the Minority Affairs Minister, and met them too. The minister asked the vice-chancellor to send me back to the Haji Mohsin Square campus.

Islam doesn’t enforce the burkha. I’m not an expert on Islam, but some scholars have told me that the meaning of ‘burkha’ is to dress decently. It is not a gown covering a woman from head to toe that it is conceived as today. 

I’m a Muslim, so is my family, and  just because I don’t wear a burkha doesn’t mean I’m any less of a Muslim than others. Religion is a private affair and people must respect that.

I went to the campus last Thursday (I take six to eight classes a week on Thursdays and Tuesdays), but took no classes—since students are on a month-long Ramzan leave. Teachers are allotted other work during this period. With students not present, Thursday was uneventful.  But I do not know what will happen once classes resume next month.

All I know is that whatever happens, I won’t relent and wear a burkha. The university authorities have assured me that everything will be fine. The students have been warned. I hope they’ve learnt to see reason and respect teachers.

As told to Jaideep Mazumdar

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