“I Was Invisible Once”: Education, Caste, and Belonging
Tracking Indian Youth: Sushmita Barman
The Pehli Peedi Fellowship presents the first in a series of stories highlighting the experiences of first-generation students across India.
Sushmita’s story is one of quiet perseverance shaped by rural life, caste-based exclusion, and an unwavering faith in education. From a small village in North Bengal to pursuing a PhD at Presidency University, her journey reflects the struggles many first-generation students face—and the resilience required to claim space within institutions that were never built for them. Her narrative is not just about academic success, but about dignity, recognition, and learning to name one’s pain.
“Education didn’t just give me a degree—it gave me language for my experiences and the courage to believe I belonged.”
Read her full story below. Profile by Sabnam Khanam.
Sabnam: Where are you from? What was growing up in your hometown/village/city like?
Sushmita: I’m from Dalimpur, a small village in Alipurduar, West Bengal. I grew up surrounded by nature and the warmth of my family. Life in the village was simple, and though we didn’t have many resources or much guidance, we shared a strong sense of community.
Sabnam: Tell me about your family—what do your parents or guardians do? What is their educational background?
Sushmita: My parents are farmers. They have never attended formal school, but they have always supported me in the best way they could.
Sabnam: Which school did you attend?
Sushmita: I studied in government schools throughout my life.
Sabnam: Are you comfortable sharing your caste? What role has caste played in your life?
Sushmita: In terms of caste, we traditionally belong to a tribal community, but we are now classified as Rajbangshi under the Scheduled Caste list.
Talking about the role caste has played in my life—everything. In my early schooling, I didn’t feel its weight much because everyone around me, including teachers and students, came from similar backgrounds. But everything changed when I moved to a different school in Class 5. Suddenly, the way I spoke, the clothes I wore—everything made me feel different and out of place among upper-caste, upper-class Bengali students.
Those years were difficult. I sat at the back of the class to avoid attention from teachers. I struggled initially because my earlier school taught in our regional language, Kamtapuri, whereas the new school used formal Bengali. I fell behind in Classes 5 and 6.
With the help of a tuition teacher in Class 7, I slowly regained interest in studies, especially mathematics. I improved steadily, and in my Class 10 board exams, I scored 97 in Maths. I was extremely proud—until one of my teachers looked at my marks and said, “Ki re, nakol korechilis naki?” (“Did you cheat in your exams?”). That comment still stings. It was as if it was impossible for someone from my background to achieve excellence.
Sabnam: How many students were in your Class 12 batch? How many went to college?
Sushmita: There were over 100 students in my Class 12 batch. Around 30–40% of them did not go on to college.
Sabnam: Was it always known that you would go to college? Were there any hurdles you had to overcome?
Sushmita: Going to college was never a certainty. I had no real guidance. I simply followed what I saw my classmates doing—filling out forms and applying. I got admitted to A.B.N.S.E.A.L. College and also received admission to a government D.Ed. college.
My parents, acting on relatives’ advice, wanted me to pursue the D.Ed. course so I could become a primary school teacher—a stable and respectable job. They even borrowed ₹12,000 for the admission fee. But I wasn’t ready to give up on college. I pleaded with them to let me complete my graduation first. After many conversations, they finally agreed.
Sabnam: Tell us about your college experience.
Sushmita: My college life was nothing like I had imagined. From the beginning, I felt excluded—perhaps because of the way I dressed, the way I spoke, or simply my social background. Teachers seemed to favour students from upper-caste, English-medium backgrounds. They were encouraged to speak, ask questions, and engage in discussions.
I, on the other hand, was subtly dismissed. When my doubts were ignored repeatedly, I lost confidence and eventually stopped speaking in class. My questioning nature slowly disappeared.
One incident remains deeply etched in my memory. During a department picnic, a senior professor was introduced to a classmate as a “good student.” I was standing right there, despite performing better academically, but I was ignored. I never made it to their list of priorities. The only difference between us was our social background. That moment made me feel invisible. After that, I attended classes quietly and returned to my hostel—no friends, no excitement, no curiosity.
Sabnam: How was your university experience during your Master’s? Did you feel a sense of belonging?
Sushmita: Everything changed when I joined Presidency University, Kolkata, for my Master’s. I was nervous about the city and unsure of the people. But for the first time, I felt represented and heard—largely because of a professor who spoke openly about caste, marginalisation, and privilege.
His lectures helped me put words to pain I had carried for years. I finally understood that the exclusions and humiliations I faced were not my personal failures, but part of a larger structural problem.
At Presidency, I found teachers who encouraged us to speak, question, and think critically. I found my voice there. That gave me a sense of belonging, even in what I once believed was the most elitist city in India.
Sabnam: What were your goals when you joined university? What are your goals now?
Sushmita: I didn’t begin with clear goals. My university experience shaped them. Over time, I discovered my passion for academics and research. After completing my Master’s, I qualified for the UGC-NET and enrolled in a PhD programme at Burdwan University. After a year, I applied again to Presidency University, and I am now pursuing my PhD here.
Sabnam: How are you financing your education?
Sushmita: I fund my education through the Rajiv Gandhi National Fellowship, which provides a monthly stipend covering my academic and living expenses.
Sabnam: Do you feel seen and heard in classrooms, societies, or larger campus spaces now?
Sushmita: Yes. Over time, I believe I have carved out a space for myself. I’ve noticed a shift—people who never interacted with me earlier now approach me. That change, though small, feels meaningful.
Sabnam: What do you wish professors, peers, or university leaders understood better about students like you?
Sushmita: While many professors acknowledge our backgrounds and the struggles we carry, true empathy often remains missing. Recognition alone is not enough. When we fail to perform at the same level as more privileged peers, the same compassion is rarely extended. What we need is not just acknowledgement, but practical support during moments of difficulty.
Sabnam: Has your image changed among your family, friends, or community after joining university?
Sushmita: Yes, significantly. My parents and relatives no longer question my choices. They trust me now. They see me as capable of making decisions, and that respect means a great deal to me.
Sabnam: What is the one thing you think first-generation students need to succeed?
Sushmita: If there’s one thing I would tell other first-generation students, it’s this—believe in yourself. There will be moments when life pushes you to give up on education. But treat education as your truest companion. It is not the enemy. It is the one tool that transforms you from within. It helps you build your own foundation and become a new individual.
This is an ongoing series of profiles documenting the experiences of young people across India. Stay tuned for more stories from first-generation students across India. Follow us on social media for more updates.