When I was in class 11–12, I used to believe that reservation should be based on wealth.
I had never really studied or thought deeply about it — I just absorbed the arguments I heard around me, mostly from social media or people nearby.
Their reasoning sounded simple: “Why should someone from a community that’s already doing well financially still get reservation? Shouldn’t the poor, no matter what caste, get the help?”
At that time, it seemed logical to me. But today, after understanding the purpose behind the system, I realize how incomplete that thinking was.
What I Thought Then
I believed reservation was just a way to help people whose ancestors were denied rights for centuries — a kind of compensation for the past.
And I thought that if someone from a community considered “lower” by society is now living well, studying in a good school, and has access to all facilities like anyone from a so-called “upper caste,” then they shouldn’t take the benefits.
It took me years to understand how shallow that idea was.
What I Understand Now
Reservation is not about giving someone an easy path or extra privilege.
It’s about protection from discrimination — ensuring that people can move forward without being blocked by social bias or prejudice.
Even today in India, studies show that something as small as your surname can decide whether your job application is shortlisted.
That means discrimination still quietly exists — not always visible, but deeply rooted.
Reservation ensures that no matter how biased a system or individual may be, a fair share of seats and opportunities remain protected for communities that have historically faced exclusion.
It’s not about favour — it’s about fairness.
Analogy: Reservation as a “Protective Umbrella”
Imagine society as a heavy rainstorm of bias and discrimination.
Some people — those from communities historically looked down upon — get soaked no matter how skilled or prepared they are.
Even if someone from that community comes from a wealthy family, is highly intelligent, or trained at the best schools, the rain of discrimination still hits them — in interviews, workplaces, or social circles.
Reservation is like giving them a strong umbrella.
It doesn’t make their path easier — it just prevents them from being unfairly soaked by the storm.
Once the umbrella is there, they can walk freely, compete fairly, and show their real talent.
Wealth or education doesn’t stop the rain — the umbrella neutralizes the bias.
The Lesson from Eklavya
Think about the story of Eklavya.
He was not denied learning because he was unworthy — he was denied because the system feared him.
Dronacharya’s refusal to teach him wasn’t about merit; it was about preserving hierarchy.
Reservation exists not because people like Eklavya need help —
but because societies still produce Dronacharyas who decide who deserves to rise.
It’s not meant to “lift up” Eklavya,
but to make sure no Dronacharya can stop him again.
What I Believe Now
Reservation is not a helping hand — it’s a shield against injustice, a bridge toward representation, and a mirror showing us how far we still have to go as a society.
So today, when someone says, “Reservation should be based only on wealth,” I understand where they’re coming from — because I once thought the same.
But now I know: reservation exists not to give anyone a shortcut, but to make sure no one has to fight twice — once against poverty, and once against prejudice.
It’s not about pulling anyone up unfairly —
it’s about ensuring that no one is held down unfairly.
No comments