Institutional Imprisonment Part I

At first I wrote institutional suffering, but then I opted for the alliteration instead. Imprisonment. Because that’s actually what it is. Suffering is just one of the many effects, which is why I’m going to write this piece in parts. This is Part I. 

Maybe it’s a personality thing, or a genetic thing, like being Bipolar, but I take independence to the absurd level of devaluing interdependence, which is incredibly stupid. I depend on people all the time — we all do. It’s just that the environments I was in turned me into a hero. Like I mentioned before, I was the star employee. I was the leader. The elected representative. Top of the class. Popular with everybody. Charismatic, charming, funny, and alive. And then different kinds of trauma, as I’ve gone over, compounded and at last I was this person who had collapsed, but could not reconcile the image of the collapsed person with the former image of the person who was always the hero. The strong one. The Saviour. Not God complex, just SuperWoman.

Not everyone is capable of being in proximity to trauma, chaos, and suffering. 

I had this deep-seated need to do good in the world. I thought perhaps the United Nations, but eventually I realized, despite being very good at it in school, showing a great deal of promise, that political work was not really for me. I got PTSD after doing my field research as a social scientist and I was devastated, because I already had it from before, but this time I was going to fix it in others. And I was devastated. About the PTSD. They told me I had a problem: I couldn’t emotionally detach or compartmentalize. I was too porous. I got too sensitive with people, too emotionally attached, too involved in their lives to simply do the work and move on. I used to think the reason I couldn’t be a doctor (medical not PhD) was because I wasn’t that great in the natural sciences, or even if I had the grades I didn’t have the passion. I wouldn’t be competent, and I could never cut open a human body. But that wasn’t the entire truth. It was because even if the desire to save a human life was there and even if I managed to do it or if I didn’t I don’t have what really good doctors have: the ability to be professional and rational under exceptionally pressurised and emotional circumstances. I was never particularly fond of maths so that ruled out many things, including my desire to study physics, which sadly cannot be done without maths. What did that leave? The Arts & Humanities. And as you know, I did it all, and somehow managed to drag in the non-maths part of physics into it, but yes almost everything in the field — aside from dance & music, which I let go of at an academic level.

I realize suffering is not exactly the brightest note for a new year 2026 post. Entry. Journal entry. But the truth is, I just want to be honest. I’m done explaining why I want to be honest. I just want to do it and be done with it. No, it’s not diplomatic. I have been diplomatic my entire life, for the most part. At some point I stopped because I was so frustrated by having to constantly prove myself. This is an incredibly common, universal feeling. I know that. Except there’s one other thing I know: something people tend to overlook after a certain point because until and unless you become something exemplary it’s just potential on paper. Yet that's the thing. All this time and effort to ensure you end up somewhere people recognize and then the recognition is treated like nothing - and no I'm not saying we should clap for people just because they gain admission and graduate from any place of learning. What I'm saying is perhaps our concentration on results and the following achievements completely dehumanize the impact or lived experience of the individual inside that institute. You hear the name of a place and associate a person with it and no doubt it plays a huge role in the opinion or perception you have of them without even knowing them.

I don't talk about where I've studied because I think it makes me better than the rest, although that is essentially what the process of selection is about. I talk about them because of why I ended up there and what that journey from beginning to end actually did to me.

There are two recent instances of name-dropping being called out that I can remember from film and TV. The first is from the movie Late Night where Emma Thompson’s character is reading about a new head of network who says in a magazine interview something about “when I was at Harvard business school” and immediately after reading that Thompson says, “where apparently she majored in name-dropping.” It’s a fair point, but it also speaks to something. In her own life Thompson attended The University of Cambridge. Then on The Morning Show I think in the very first episode Reese Witherspoon is in a car with some colleagues, and one of them happens to mention his time at, yes again, Harvard, and Witherspoon says something along the lines of “isn’t it funny how people who go to Harvard always find a way to drop it into the conversation… Harvard, Harvard, Harvard.” In her own life Witherspoon attended Stanford University.

Now I am not saying they are hypocrites. In fact, I think it must have been refreshing to have the opportunity to play characters who are able to express such sentiments because it isn’t anything I haven’t felt a million times before. The only difference is that my critique occurred within the boundaries of institutions — as it often happens — and that is ironic, no matter how self-aware and politically correct it may sound. 

I absolutely grew up in an environment where the prestige of institutions was emphasized — as did many others around the world. Everything I wanted to do, without being explicitly told, I sought to prove I could do by gaining acceptance to the best, if not in close proximity to the best, institution of learning that was available to me. 

International Baccalaureate: United World College of the Atlantic

Fine art: University of the Arts London

Architecture: The Architectural Association School of Architecture

Social science: The University of Edinburgh

Performing arts: The Royal Central School of Speech & Drama

PhD RA & Artistic Residency: The University of Cambridge

Freelance Artistic Development: Doha Film Institute

Why did I do it? To be able to name-drop. No. Well, not only. I did it because it’s what was expected. The way my life was I had to do the very best to survive and you might say: well isn’t that true for everyone? And you know what? No, it isn’t. There: full honesty. Not everyone has these expectations placed on them by themselves or others. Not everyone has to either. I did. I was an expatriate. I didn’t have the ability to say: ok this is my home country, if at 18 I decide not to go to University, I’ll just do something else. No. It wasn’t just about familial or social obligations: legally it would have meant I would have to leave and go back to my country of birth - India - where I had not lived for what to me felt like 18 years. I didn’t apply for citizenship elsewhere because I moved around a lot. It wasn’t till much later that I did get a British Residency Permit since I never wanted to lose my ability to be in the country as I had spent so much of my time growing up there, studying there.

And this is hard because my immigration battles are not common. It’s not what ordinary people in the UK were experiencing when they changed the laws and people who had lived there their whole lives had to suddenly prove their citizenship - Windrush and all the rest. I didn’t fall into that category so it was harder to explain. Every time I called myself an immigrant it was kind of a lie because I wasn’t what people recognize as immigrants, not really, I was an expatriate. I had certain advantages that others did not is basically what I’m trying to say. But those advantages created pressure.

That’s why I’m calling it Institutional Imprisonment. I don’t deny the relevance of these institutions and I will never say that I was not extremely grateful to have been given the opportunity to study at them. However, what I will always say and am saying is that the weight these places carry in society is not unfair as some would argue — that’s not my argument — my argument is that we cannot attach capacity or calibre to these places. We can only attach standard, if we must. They are after all ranked. And that ranking matters to me. Because I was brought up to believe it does matter. So I like the prestige, I like the notable alumni, I like being able to name-drop when necessary, though I see it less as name-dropping and more like self-defense, which is a whole other subject. But it's simple. I like to feel good about being the one who was chosen. Everyone does. I like the credibility it gives to my ideas. Whether or not other ideas are less credible is not even up for debate since the truth is any well thought out argument, any experiment, or piece of art, doesn't have to come from any of these prestigious places to be considered worthwhile or legitimate. I like the institutions.

What I don’t like is how despite the impressive nature of these places — however many eyebrows are raised when you mention them — it’s not that people don’t talk about it, it’s just there’s been a lack of nuance in the discussions. We forget there's a person behind a degree and before everyone jumps and says that's ridiculous, so many students disagree, we do profiles on them, testimonials etc. I get it. But do you know them? Do you think you should know them? Yes, the high pressure environments combined with various other factors leads to mental illnesses. My case is slightly different as it is tied to trauma that has nothing to do with workload but still there is that sense of confinement that goes beyond academic pressure or performance pressure or criteria or whatever else. Because these places consume you. They own you. You belong to these places. And these places belong to you. These Institutions institutionalize you. 

And I got a bonus: I was not only institutionalized by the academic institutions, I was also institutionalized by the other meaning of the word as you already know: mental hospital. 

Whether or not anyone would like to admit it, I’m going to make it very clear: yes, they are definitely comparable.

More in Part II.