Class And Caste

For nearly six years, Abeda Tadvi has lived with an absence that refuses to heal. She is a mother who lost her daughter to institutional caste discrimination, a cancer survivor battling fragile health and a woman navigating economic distress and exhaustion as she travels repeatedly to courtrooms in search of justice. Each hearing reopens the wounds she carries quietly, sustained only by the belief that no other parent should endure what she has. This fragile hope briefly took shape in the UGC Equity Regulations, 2026, before being shaken once again by the Supreme Court’s stay on their implementation. 

For Abeda, 60, the UGC Equity Regulations, 2026, offered meaning beyond personal loss. She believed that helping prevent caste discrimination against other students would be a form of justice for her daughter, Payal Tadvi, who died by suicide in 2019 following institutional caste-based discrimination.

“I lost my daughter. Nothing in this world can fill the void and return my daughter to me alive. She was the first-generation doctor in our family. Our case in court continued for years, and we are waiting for justice. But I was happy that the new university rules would ensure no such deaths, like my child. But Manuvadis want a free hand to discriminate against students like my Payal. It shattered me when the Supreme Court stayed the implementation,” says Abeda.

Her long silences and tears during the interview showed the unhealed wounds of a grieving mother who is determined to fight for justice against all odds.

Payal, an obstetrics and gynaecology resident at Mumbai’s BYL Nair Hospital, belonged to the Tadvi Bhil community, a Scheduled Tribe. She reported sustained caste-based harassment by three senior doctors, including caste-driven verbal abuse and denial of surgical work, before dying by suicide. Her death sparked nationwide outrage and exposed deep-rooted caste discrimination in India’s medical institutions.

Seven years after her death, a criminal case filed by Payal’s family awaits justice. In India, it takes years for most criminal cases to be concluded in trial courts. However, during our in-depth follow-up of Payal’s case and justice in light of the UGC Equity Regulations, 2026, We encountered institutional apathy, the family’s precarious journey, literal and metaphorical, for justice, and the multiple challenges faced by the victim’s family.

The criminal case continues to move slowly at the Bombay Sessions Court under the SC/ST Prevention of Atrocities Act, the Prohibition of Ragging Act and charges of abetment of suicide, along with a few other IPC provisions. The appointment of special public prosecutor Pradeep Gharat in the case was cancelled by the Maharashtra state government in 2025. This ex parte cancellation was issued without any reasoning or intimation to the parties, especially the Tadvi family. According to legal experts, Gharat was handling the case effectively. The Tadvis were shocked by the government’s decision, which came at a crucial juncture when charges were to be framed. The trial could have begun by now had Gharat continued as the lead prosecutor. Abeda had even filed a writ petition in the Bombay High Court challenging Gharat’s withdrawal. With the appointment of a new SPP, the trial has been further delayed, as the new prosecutor needs to study the case from the beginning.

In November 2024, Gharat filed an application seeking to include the then head of the department as a co-accused, citing evidence of negligence in addressing Payal’s harassment by senior doctors despite receiving multiple complaints, including one from Payal’s mother, Abeda. The Bombay High Court ordered that the former HOD be included as a co-accused. This was a rare decision highlighting institutional caste discrimination and complicity by those in positions of authority. The former HOD, a woman doctor, filed an appeal in the Supreme Court, challenging the High Court order. The appeal is yet to be decided.

Abeda is a homemaker. She was diagnosed with cancer in 2019 and continues to struggle with her mental and emotional health. Salim, Payal’s father, is a retired Class IV employee of the Maharashtra government. Their elder son, Ritesh, 38, has a physical disability.

“My son has many mobility challenges, so he can’t work. We have to look after him. My husband is now retired. Payal was our only hope. Now we live on my husband’s pension, which is inadequate for living and for meeting the expenses of court dates,” Abeda says.

Abeda and Salim have travelled to Mumbai for every court hearing over the past seven years. Payal’s husband, Salman, has since remarried and moved on with his life. “Initially, Salman supported us in the case. Now, he has another life,” said Abeda, with a lingering sense of pain and loneliness.

When the Tadvi couple travels to Mumbai for hearings, they catch a train from Jalgaon, over 400 km away, the previous night, reaching Mumbai CST around 5 am. They spend the next five hours at the railway station, as staying at a cheap hotel or with relatives is seldom an option. Around 10 am, they walk to the Bombay Sessions Court, eat breakfast and attend the hearing. After leaving the court at around 5.30 pm, they rush back to CST to catch the return train to Jalgaon.

“When I see the accused doctors coming to court, my heart feels heavy. Two of them are married now. Their lives are going well. They come by car, wearing new clothes and make-up. I see them giggling, walking hand-in-hand with their husbands. It reminds me of my daughter’s face. There isn’t a single day when I don’t burst into tears. Is there any justice for the poor?” Abeda asks, her voice heavy with anguish. 

The Tadvi family lacks social support and often feels lonely during court proceedings. No activists or groups accompany them or offer in-person or financial support, except for lawyers Lara Jesani and Mihir Desai, who represent them pro bono in petitions before the Bombay High Court.

So, what has changed after Payal’s death? “There is not a single complaint of caste discrimination registered in the SC/ST grievance cell in the last five and a half years of my tenure. We have displayed all the information of our committee and contacts on the website and across the college campus,” says Shailesh Mohite, Dean and Director of BYL Nair Hospital and Medical College.

When asked about the complaint redressal system and whether there was a standard operating procedure, Mohite says: “We encourage students to reach out to us with any issues they face, even informally. After understanding their issue, we document it in writing, and then the committee investigates.” Asked whether there was any departmental action or inquiry against the then HOD after the Bombay High Court order to include her as a co-accused, Mohite says: “I have no idea about it. It did not happen during my tenure.” 

At the Mumbai hospital where Payal died by suicide, there is a mechanism in place to address such issues. The institution has an SC/ST grievance cell with more than half a dozen members, comprising professors, assistant professors, non-teaching staff, the dean and a student representative from the Maharashtra Association of Resident Doctors (MARD). 

“We as MARD support medical students on various issues and often students approach us before going to committees or professors. After understanding the details, we help them draft complaints and follow up with all the authorities concerned, including the BMC’s public health department. In my tenure as a medical student and president of MARD, I did not come across any case of caste-based discrimination,” says Digvijay Jadhav, president of MARD for BMC hospitals, who is pursuing an MD in forensic medicine at BYL Nair Hospital and Medical College. 

Some doctors at the hospital speak in hushed tones about the case but avoid discussing it in detail. Many echoed a rehearsed position that caste discrimination does not exist in their workplace. However, some resident doctors, particularly postgraduates, said they are treated differently. While caste is not mentioned openly, they said they are subtly excluded, mocked for their spoken English and occasionally looked down upon.

Christianez Ratna Kiruba, who practises medicine in Guwahati, Assam, explains how caste operates within medical institutions. “The highly competitive higher education ecosystem leaves little room for medical students to engage with the idea of equity. This begins early with entrance exams like NEET, where there is almost no space to learn about caste or other social determinants. Everyone is placed in a rat race where young minds focus only on ranks and admissions. Institutions are dominated by upper-caste students and many from privileged backgrounds refuse to acknowledge their privilege. This caste-blind mindset shows up in everyday interactions, from limited social mixing to intense competition over seats and the persistence of casteist practices against students from marginalised communities,” she says.

Priyanka Tupe is Assistant Editor, Outlook. She is based in Mumbai

This article appeared in Outlook's February 21 issue titled Seeking Equity which brought together ground reports, analysis and commentary to examine UGC’s recent equity rules and the claims of misuse raised by privileged groups.