Second, it reinforces the argument of the political class that only state-enforced quotas can redress age-old inequalities because the cream of Indian society (distinct from the one generation thin OBC creamy layer) is even more unwilling than before to share the spoils of its new prosperity.

The Nehruvian elite at least gave lip service to the egalitarian ideal. They may have wanted the best for their children but they also believed that an unlettered maidservant’s son should get the same chances — at least on paper — as their own; that a father’s lack of college education should not come in the way of his hopes for a better future for his daughter. The lack of protests over the new criteria shows that we do not care for such niceties, even in theory, anymore.

Third, it shows that despite all the celebration of India’s diversity and pluralism, the instinct for a certain kind of uniformity — in our classrooms and our workplaces — remains intact. Children from a similar socio-economic background, or “people like us” are preferred to the unwashed unknown. In another time, a first-generation learner would have got extra points at the time of admission. But now, we leave it to the ill-equipped municipal schools to take up that awesome challenge; private schools are meant to manufacture merit that comes from impeccable antecedents.

And fourth, stemming from all of the above, it provides impetus to the argument that despite sixty years of democracy, the stranglehold of the upper castes (except in politics or where reservations have worked) has not slackened significantly. This contention is certain to raise the hackles of the middle class because most of us genuinely believe that caste means nothing to us; it is a remnant of the past that politicians keep alive for the sake of votebanks. The Ganguly Committee report, after all, asked for a mother’s college degree, not her caste certificate. And if it had, we would have been outraged.

... contd.