Travel - The Reservation Debate

It was a sunny morning. Taxi driver Prasad Rao was reading a newspaper inside his car. As his eyes wandered over the newspaper, they settled on the headline: “MP Nithin Pawar asks for a 10% hike in SC/ST reservation for college seats.”

Seeing the headline, his eyes flared with anger. He put the newspaper aside and muttered to himself, “The country is already filled with unworthy brats in every field, ignoring the truly deserving ones while giving more opportunities to these cheap lower-caste people.”

Just as he finished speaking, a notification popped up on his phone for a cab ride. He took a deep breath, put his frustration aside, and got ready for work.

After some time, we see Prasad waiting at a crossroads for his passenger. As he waited, a stranger knocked on the closed windshield. Prasad rolled it down. The stranger asked, “Uber?” Prasad nodded and said, “OTP?”

The stranger recited the OTP and entered the cab. As Prasad drove, he observed his passenger. The man was wearing a coat, had a half-open bag with a stethoscope inside, and was dressed in formal attire.

Prasad asked, “Sir, are you a doctor?” The passenger nodded and replied, “Yes.” Prasad responded, “I thought so. By the way, what type of doctor are you?” The passenger answered, “I’m a cardiologist.” Prasad smiled and said, “That’s great, sir.”

After a brief pause, Prasad continued, “You must have studied really hard to reach this position. You know, sir, people like you work tirelessly to achieve success, but then there are some who, in the name of caste, get seats easily without being truly worthy of them.”

The passenger simply smiled at that. Prasad then asked, “By the way, what is your name, sir?” The passenger replied, “Piyush Solanki.” Hearing his surname, Prasad immediately recognized his caste. After that, he fell silent.

Noticing the sudden change, Piyush asked, “What happened, sir? You were talking so nicely, and now you’ve gone quiet—like a silent protest.” Prasad remained silent.

Seeing his reaction, Piyush smirked and said, “Ah, I see. You must be one of those caste-pride people who avoid talking to a Dalit guy like me.” Prasad quickly responded, “No, you misunderstood me. I’m actually against caste discrimination.”

Piyush raised an eyebrow and asked, “Then why did you suddenly go silent, sir?” Prasad hesitated before replying, “It’s because of the position you hold. Tell me, did you become a doctor through the reservation quota?” Piyush calmly replied, “Yes, I got my medical seat using my reservation rights.”

Prasad responded, “Exactly! I hate people who get through reserved seats. There are general category students who suffer because of this system. They have to put in much more effort than people like you. Due to reservations, we are falling behind other countries. And on top of that, your future generations will continue to benefit from it as well.”

Prasad continued, “You guys can become anything, but do it through your own efforts rather than relying on so-called charity. Luckily, the government introduced the EWS quota, but even there, you people are trying to sneak in.” It was clear from his words how much anger he held toward the reservation system.

Piyush calmly explained, “For centuries, backward castes were largely denied education and dignified employment under rigid caste systems, locking most into servitude or manual labor. Many general category students benefit from families with access to education and stable incomes, like teaching, government service, or small businesses, giving them a head start over first-generation students. How can you compare a student with a generational education background to a first-generation student whose parents toil in farming and construction work? Today, because of reservations, there has been slow but steady progress, and things are finally changing.”

Prasad argued, “Things are changing. Who even looks at caste nowadays? Reservations are no longer needed.” Hearing this, Piyush leaned forward and said, “Sir, please take a left turn at the next alley.” Prasad followed his direction and took the turn.

As he continued driving, Piyush suddenly asked him to stop. Prasad frowned and said, “This isn’t your destination. Why are you asking me to stop here?” Piyush replied, “For a reason.” He then pointed ahead and said, “Look in front of you. Do you see that drainage worker?” Prasad nodded.

Piyush continued, “And over there, do you see the temple?” Prasad glanced at the temple, now skeptical about where this conversation was going. Piyush then asked, “Can you tell me which caste the priests in that temple belong to? And which caste the workers cleaning the drainage belong to?”

Prasad opened his mouth to respond but found himself at a loss for words. He had never really thought about it before. He glanced at the drainage worker, then at the temple priest, and then back at Piyush. The answer was obvious, but saying it aloud would contradict his own argument.

Seeing Prasad’s hesitation, Piyush smirked and leaned back. “Let it be, sir. Let’s talk about something else.”  Prasad exhaled in relief, hoping to shift the conversation away from the uncomfortable topic. But Piyush wasn’t done.

“Tell me, sir,” Piyush continued, “why is caste still a major factor in marriage? There’s no reservation in marriage, yet people strongly prefer partners from their own caste. Isn’t that odd?” Prasad became skeptical, shifting slightly in his seat. “That’s just tradition. Families want to marry within their community to keep cultural values intact.”

Piyush chuckled bitterly. “Cultural values? Or just caste-based segregation? Upper castes might bend for another caste if wealth aligns, but a Dalit in love with one of them? They label us—say we’re after money or the caste status. Is that really so wrong?”

Prasad didn’t respond immediately. He tapped a restless rhythm on the steering wheel, searching for the right words. “Look,” he finally said, “discrimination is wrong. I won’t deny that. But these caste-based reservations are making the divide even wider. Instead of uniting people, it’s creating more resentment. That’s why general category people feel frustrated.”

Piyush nodded slightly. “I get it, sir. But tell me, who created this divide in the first place? Who labeled some castes as ‘upper’ and some as ‘lower’? Who enforced caste stereotypes that still exist today? Who decided that certain people should serve, while others should rule? Who made untouchability a reality for centuries?” Prasad remained silent again. He had no immediate counterargument.

Piyush continued, “Even today, there are places where Dalits aren’t allowed to enter temples. Some are forced to sit separately in schools. Even our own Indian President has faced discrimination at a temple. Many still experience violence just for buying things that are seen as a matter of pride by so-called ‘upper-caste’ people. If caste truly didn’t matter anymore, would all of this still be happening?  People in front of me stereotype me and my caste people”

Prasad sighed. “I know caste discrimination exists. I know caste violence still happens. But reservations aren’t the solution. Instead of uplifting people, it’s giving them an easy way in. It’s making them dependent.”

Piyush shook his head. “Dependent? Or finally getting the opportunities that were denied to them for centuries?”

He continued, “I entered MBBS through reservation, yes, because my family couldn’t afford the coaching others had. But in semester exams, I outscored most general category students in my class of 200—over 100 of them. Still, some label me unworthy just for how I got in. Doesn’t my work prove otherwise?”

Prasad had no immediate response. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, lost in thought. After a moment, he exhaled. “Okay, fine. Education, I get it. But what about jobs and promotions?”

Piyush replied, “Every sector is part of society, and people of every caste and religion are needed—hence, reservation exists. Also, it’s only in government jobs, not private ones. As for promotions, they depend on the state—there’s no fixed rule. Whether it’s education, jobs, or anything else, reservation is just an entry point. After that, we still have to work just like everyone else.”

Prasad argued, “Don’t you think reservation has damaged our country? People get jobs and education as charity, and then they study and work just for the sake of it.”

Piyush shot him a sharp stare. Prasad caught the look through the rearview mirror and hesitated. “I didn’t mean everyone,” he added quickly.

Piyush exhaled. “That same stereotype again. If someone wants to take their studies or work lightly, they will—regardless of whether they are from a reserved category or not. And there’s no study or research proving that reserved candidates have damaged our country. But do people raise their voices against caste-based violence, honor killings, or social boycotts? Do they stand against corrupt politicians? No. Instead, they blame the marginalized—the ones simply trying to find their place in this world. Even a country like America has affirmative action, yet here, people keep complaining about reservation.”

Prasad had no immediate response. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, lost in thought.

Piyush said, “Sir, there are reservations and schemes for everyone, yet people only focus on the 18% and 1% reservation for lower castes. I know reservations won’t fully solve the caste problem, but at least they address some of the issues. To truly end caste discrimination, we need to instill virtues in people. But instead, many try to reject the solutions provided. Education should help people understand caste discrimination and religious divides, yet even educated individuals continue to uphold these biases.”

He continued, “Take the EWS quota, for example. The disadvantage of EWS reservations is that financial status is difficult to track, especially in second- and third-tier cities. This loophole allows undeserving individuals to misuse the system and claim benefits they don’t truly need.”

Prasad quickly countered, “And what about caste-based reservations? People who have already benefited from them can still claim them for future generations. Isn’t that unfair too?”

Piyush nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, both systems have loopholes. But financial status can change over time—caste doesn’t. The real solution isn’t just about removing reservations; it’s about changing people’s mindsets. If you want to remove reservation, then remove caste first from the society reservation will remove automatically.”

Prasad sighed, gripping the steering wheel tightly. The weight of the conversation settled in, leaving both men in deep thought as the car moved forward.

Later, we see the car outside the hospital, with Piyush getting out of the cab. As he got out, Prasad said, “Sorry, I know I hurt you earlier with my words.” Piyush said, “It’s okay.”

Prasad said, “But one day, caste will be eradicated from India and the minds of Indian people, where caste pride is passed down to the next generation. Likewise, the love for humanity and the rejection of caste will be passed down. People will develop hatred against caste, and it will not be broken by any politicians.”

Piyush smiles at that. “I hope so.” They wave goodbye to each other and head toward their respective workplaces, both carrying a clearer understanding of caste and its impact.