The following day, despite being allowed to sit in the classrooms for observations, there was a teacher in-charge and a separate register put in place to maintain a record of my timings and movement. The authorities seemed sceptical of what I might publish, and the teachers were cautious of my presence and unsure of my role in the school, and the students were confused about who I was – a new teacher, an intern, or some officer who has been keeping an eye on them. Access during fieldwork and even rejection of it came in different forms for me. It ranged from no access on initial days to limited access on later days or even in the form of hesitant and apprehensive participants. These apprehensions and perceptions stemmed from a place of vulnerability and fear that I could address with some transparency about my work, building trust and rapport while respecting their valid concerns. Understanding these underlying apprehensions and power dynamics during fieldwork made way for necessary negotiations and helped me make sense of a clearer picture of the field. Thus, gaining access for me was not merely a one-day event. It was a slow, ongoing process and an exercise in trust building, everyday negotiations, and sheer perseverance.

Researchers’ Positionality: Neither Insider nor Outsider

I entered the field as an urban middle class researcher (woman) coming from the privileged space of a university, carrying a letter from the authorities to interact with students whose worlds were vastly different from mine. Building trust, here, was a continuous process and came with transparency about the research intent and work, and with nearly a year-long engagement.

In the field, my identity was not just of who I was but also of how I was being perceived. With my various attempts to blend in during this journey, at times, I realised some of my mannerisms reflected that I am not from here. But, even in those moments, I was neither an insider nor outsider. I found myself constantly oscillating between this space of neither being a complete alien, nor entirely family.

The fluidity of being seen is what surprised me on most days. The school consisted of nearly 70 per cent girls from Muslim families and 30 per cent girls from Hindu families. On the very first day inside the classroom, a group of girls asked me if ‘I am a Hindu. I dodged the question to the best of my ability and regretted wearing a bindi[ii]which was pointed by a girl to confirm my religious identity. This instance stirred too many dilemmas and questions inside me, ranging from the best way to address this, whether to not respond or accept, as a researcher, I am supposed to have religion in school. and what divulging that information entail for my fieldwork. For multiple days, different students kept asking about my religious identity. When I asked why it is important, some hesitated and said it is not, while some mentioned they have never had a Muslim teacher, and they want to know if I am. Even though they knew what I was there for, and I explained to them in the simplest words what my study is about, I held the position and regard of a teacher for them.