[Tana Pumin]
Last year, one evening, someone called me – an unknown number. He asked about my whereabouts and spoke as if he had known me for years. Because of that familiarity, I stayed on the line.
A minute later, he asked, “Acha… yeh saal RGU join karega AAPSU ke liye?”
That one sentence dragged me back to the chaos of my master’s batch of 2021-2023.
I had joined Rajiv Gandhi University (RGU) by rightfully qualifying both the entrance examination and the viva voce. I remember there were 35 slots, and I was really desperate to join RGU. After three years of studying outside and facing uncertainty during Covid-19, I wanted to study here in Arunachal. I loved my state. I loved being here, near home.
When I came for the viva voce, I witnessed how competitive it was. There were more than 70 participants who had qualified. I was extremely nervous. Eventually, the results came out, and I earned my slot in the top three. It was one of the happiest days of my life.
What I did not know then was that some people had not earned their seats to study but actually they had stolen someone’s dream.
By 2022, the AAPSU election campaigns began. Having studied outside, I had no real idea how student politics worked. I knew about democracy in theory – but what I witnessed in my third semester was something else entirely.
I soon learned that many people join the university not to study but to vote. Every three years they re-enrol, take up a seat, and stay just long enough to become eligible for the AAPSU elections. Why would someone write an entrance exam, clear a viva, attend two semesters, and then appear in the third semester only to vote?
As campaigning picked up, students began telling us that their brothers, cousins, or friends were contesting. Then we were summoned to meet candidates. Slowly, the truth became impossible to ignore.
At first, it felt empowering – students choosing their leaders. But that illusion didn’t last long. The campus split into invisible territories. One candidate spoke to one group, another to a different group. Classes emptied. Faculty members grew anxious. But did the candidates who claimed to be student leaders care? No.
Classrooms that had once been filled with friendship and laughter turned into spaces of rivalry, as supporters of opposing candidates divided the class among themselves. The AAPSU election had become a festival, and like any festival, there was money everywhere.
It was said that presidential candidates offered Rs 20,000 per voter, general secretaries Rs 10,000, and others Rs 5,000 or less. The lower the post, the lower the price.
I first refused the money. But someone took it in my name anyway. Later, the opposing camp even called to confirm whether I had been “paid.” That was the moment I understood how deeply rotten the system was. After that, like many others, I stopped pretending and took the money when it was offered.
Let us be honest: the money flow is real. No matter how loudly people deny it, it exists. There are public speeches about clean elections, but behind the scenes, votes are traded openly.
There are around 4,500 to 5,000 student voters in the AAPSU elections across Arunachal. By rough calculation, a serious candidate must be spending crores. Where does this money come from? And how is it recovered later?
The most painful part came after the elections. The campus felt hollow. Ten students from my own class stopped coming. A week passed. Then a month. They never returned. Their purpose had been served.
I kept thinking of a girl I met during my viva voce. She was bright, sincere, and desperate to study mass communication. She had missed the cut by a small margin. Her seat had gone to someone who later disappeared after voting.
That is the real cost of this system.
So today, when someone casually asks, “Yeh saal RGU join karega AAPSU ke liye?”, it no longer sounds harmless. It sounds like a confession.
Are the pioneers of this student union proud of what it has become? A system where leadership is auctioned?
Where seats meant for education are used for profit? Where genuine students are pushed out by political greed?
If this continues, real leaders will never rise – only those who can afford to buy power can.
And the biggest question remains: Will students’ rights always be for sale?
