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Diva Savkur

A Sobering Thought: How Ashoka’s CADI Policies Contribute to Riskier Student Drinking


An image of the Smoking Room | Photo courtesy: Aditya Roy/The Edict

It is Thursday night. However, it is a calm October night during the break, which renders it quite ordinary. Sitting across from me, my dad relays an amusing rumour he heard. Out of increasing concern for their wards’ safety off-campus, a few parents of Ashoka students have off-handedly discussed requesting the university to facilitate a ‘bar’ on campus. This was spurred by horror stories of lecherous local men hoping to encounter inebriated female students, guns pulled out on Ashoka students at the local party haunt, and an overall unsafe environment off-campus (as confirmed by three students in interviews with The Edict). At my incredulous expression, he goes on to explain that, in a marked shift from a traditional Indian parent mindset, Ashoka’s parents are accepting the fact that college students will drink, regardless of superficial restrictions. Now, all they hope is for their child to drink safely. For legal reasons, these parents’ requests are amusing at best; however, with this in mind, I do think it could serve to examine the existing framework of regulatory organisations and modify their work to tackle these concerns more comprehensively.


Regulatory organisations on campus such as the Committee Against Disciplinary Infraction (CADI) do not look beyond disciplinary measures such as suspensions and warnings. An approach that targets inebriation on this superficial level does not teach students to stop drinking—it merely teaches them how to stop getting caught. When one-off cases of inebriation are written up by CADI, or the warden raids a dorm party for alcohol, students learn how to avoid these situations, not drinking itself. More importantly, the fear of being caught by CADI, as a result, can lead students to engage with substances in sneakier, arguably more dangerous off-campus locations. Two first-year students (UG ‘28) in an interview with The Edict, concede that they would much rather drink safely on campus without harm to themselves or others, as opposed to leaving campus amidst tales of their female classmates getting catcalled from cars mere meters away from the university gates. 


Students now take their drinking to unsafe local clubs or, worse yet, simply drink on the curbside on the streets of Sonipat, on the watch for danger. In an interview with The Edict, a fourth-year student (ASP ‘25) attributes this to a shift in responsibility; as long as alcohol consumption occurs off-campus, Ashoka does not remain liable. I am aware that the university understandably cannot ignore legal prohibitions on alcohol consumption by students on a college campus. However, a perfunctory ‘say no to alcohol and substances’ in a seminar during orientation week itself may seem quite ineffective to the aim of a mitigating organisation. In the long run, the cultural ramifications of this approach towards students’ substance intake could be deep-seated and harmful. It hinders the ability to enact alternative, more effectual approaches centred around remedy and treatment. By solely focusing on the dangers of drinking in its policies, CADI misses a crucial opportunity to differentiate and tackle dangerous drinking.


The very real tales of danger associated with off-campus rendezvous are exacerbated by a definitively harsher approach by university authorities towards students’ illicit Thursday night activities on campus, a fourth-year student tells The Edict. He goes on to say that the approach of ‘looking the other way’ by in-charges, while present in earlier years, is also noticeably lacking this semester. As per Ashoka University Guidelines and Regulations on Disciplinary Proceedings (2023), apart from consuming alcohol on campus and possessing bottles, being “found in an inebriated state on the campus due to consumption of alcohol or other intoxicants” and having “medical situations and emergencies arising under the influence of alcohol/substance” are grounds to be charged with an infraction. From a legal perspective, these statements neatly tie up the University’s commitment to alcohol prohibition; however, I think that they do more harm to the safety of its students. Policies such as these could indicate that if students are explicitly warned that they cannot even return to campus after drinking unless they are in a ‘desirable’ frame of mind, it only forces them to stay off-campus later and longer than is safe. It is a wholly dangerous scenario if a student facing an unprecedented, serious medical situation or emergency is made to fear the prospect of an infraction over the threat to their health. 


Another factor that indirectly impacts the safety of students is the lack of unofficial student areas, which are free from the patrolling of university administration, and allow individuals grappling with their new adult identity a judgement-free ‘safe’ space. Not too long ago, Ashoka did provide this space in the form of the beloved smoking room. Frequented by students and faculty alike, it was suddenly and inexplicably snuffed out by the administration in Spring ‘22, much to the chagrin of the student populace. A fourth-year student (ASP ‘25), now part of the last batch to have experienced the Smoking Room, says that the beloved student space had suddenly disappeared over the summer break, claiming that the administration at the time released periodic reassurances that it was ‘under renovation’. Slowly, however, students began to realise that the room was gone for good. He continues, “While at the time I was not particularly affected by it since I was only in my first year—although older batches definitely were—over time, as I got into my second year of college, I realised that it was less about getting to party there and more about losing a student ‘institution’ or common space.” There were very few student spaces that had escaped being corporatised by the university; as of today, there are none. The walls within the smoking room showcased the beliefs and thoughts of the student body through colourful graffiti. It went beyond having a designated place to smoke; for newly independent students, it was unofficial ‘adult treatment’ by the administration. “Even today, after the shutdown of the smoking room, we lack that sort of student space,” says the fourth-year student. 

An image of the smoking room, which was shut in Spring'22 | Photo courtesy: Aditya Roy/The Edict

According to him, while students were displeased at the highly unsafe nature of this new alternative on the streets of Sonipat, it served as a nearby outlet, free from university policing, which also acted as an unofficial student space in lieu of the smoking room. However, these thekas were gradually subject to raids and shutdowns last semester. Considering the complete lack of these student environments as of this semester, why is the administration so intent on sanitising and restricting safe student spaces solely in the name of ‘substance prohibition’? Moreover, is this outlook not doing more harm than good, in light of unsafe off-campus alternatives that arise out of it?


Substance abuse is another common, much darker aspect of student alcohol consumption that is essentially overlooked in the administration’s approach. As per the Ashoka University Guidelines and Regulations on Disciplinary Proceedings (2023), CADI deliberates and metes out sanctions, infractions and penalties to students who fail to adhere to the guidelines listed in the document. The document does not address addiction at large or procedure in cases of it, and only refers to substance abuse in terms of ‘rule-violating behaviour’, and not a mental health issue. What is the relevance of advocating for mental health care if the university fails to also list holistic procedures to deal with substance abuse issues, offer measures to help with addiction, or recognise addiction in its alcohol consumption guidelines at all? “If you’re going to enforce rules through organisations like CADI, you need to have bodies that work within that capacity instead of harping about prevention, especially in a university environment where addiction is extremely common and rarely spoken of”, said a second-year transfer student (UG ‘27). For a struggling addict, a disciplinary infraction fails to help curb their substance abuse; it merely reacts to the symptoms of addiction, instead of aiming to understand and rectify the root cause.


Hence, a more holistic approach to addressing alcohol consumption, including addiction counselling, disseminating information, and rehabilitation, may prove infinitely more beneficial than punitive measures alone. Revoking student spaces and ‘undesirable’ activities that will persist regardless of the current approach does not only threaten general safety. More relevantly, it misses the opportunity to foster a healthy mindset and awareness towards substances (and substance abuse), as well as establish an efficient, working system that deals with all facets of student alcohol consumption. My intention is not to propose an additional rack of spirits placed right above the contraceptives in the tuck shop or the aforementioned parent-approved ‘bar’; all I suggest is that the authorities consider shifting their stance from ‘say no to drinking’ to ‘say no to unsafe drinking’.


The writer is a Staff Writer, Opinions (AY 24-25)


(Edited by Noor Sabharwal and Srijana Siri)

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