Starting Over

"Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards" --- Søren Kierkegaard

Officials from the district health department and Siliguri Municipal Corporation were putting up barricades around 'Magnolia' residential complex to isolate it's residents. One of it's residents, Mr. Alokendu Banerjee, had died of Covid-19 in the small hours of that day. But Mrs. Ruchita Banerjee's mind was too numb to process everything going around her. It all seemed weird, almost surreal. Alokendu, her husband, who was very much alive just a week before, didn't exist any more. He had fever, cough and cold with sore throat - the classic Covid symptoms. He was admitted to the district hospital. When his test report came positive, Ruchita became very anxious. But even in her wildest dream, she had never imagined that he would die the very next day.

*

Ruchita was looking resplendent in the bright red banarasee saree and gold jewelleries. The air was heavy with the fragrance of tuberose flowers. Alokendu was sitting beside her, wearing a dhoti, an impish smile plastered on his face. The priest gesticulated something to him. Taking the cue, he put vermillion in the parting of her hair. Suddenly, a mobile started ringing somewhere. With every passing second, the sound of ringing was growing louder and louder.....

Ruchita woke up with a start from her slumber, a cry throttling in her throat. She was drenched in cold sweat. She felt out of breath. She switched on the bedside lamp and gulped down a glass of water. The nightmares kept on coming every night since Alokendu's death. On some nights, she dreamed of her wedding night; on others, their honeymoon at Darjeeling. In some other dreams, she and Alokendu were fretting over Megh, their first-born, the subject of their common worry. All these dreams ended with a mobile ringing. Just like the mobile was ringing on that fateful night. And when she received the call, a female voice from the other end said woodenly, "Sorry, Mrs. Banerjee. Mr. Alokendu Banerjee has passed away." Since that day, sleep eluded her. Whenever she drifted into a slumber, the nightmares woke her up. So much so that she dreaded going to sleep. Whenever someone called her on her mobile, she got startled by the ringing. Her body reacted whenever she heard the mobile ringing. She felt everything she felt when she heard the news of Alokendu's death: fear, panic, her heart thumping in her throat.

Ruchita looked beside her. Megh and Bristi were fast asleep. She stealthily came out of the room. Then she tiptoed to the terrace and climbed on the parapet. Just one more step. And the end of all her miseries.

"Ruchi, what are you doing?", Mr. D'Souza's voice broke her spell. Mr. and Mrs. D'Souza were an elderly couple living in the flat next to her.

Ruchita was a touch embarassed and she came down from the parapet.

"You know I have chronic insomnia. Moreover, it's so hot today. I couldn't sleep a wink. So I came to the terrace to breath in some cool, fresh air. And thank god! I came at the right moment. Don't ever think of taking such drastic step. At least, think about Megh and Bristi. Who will look after them?"

Suitably chastised, Ruchita quietly returned to her room. She spent the remaining night tossing and turning in the bed. 

The first rays of the sun came filtering through the window curtains and touched the sleeping faces of Megh and Bristi. Ruchita looked at her children. They looked innocent, almost cherubic in the early hours of the day. They were too small to understand the full import of their father's death. God was kind that their test report had come negative. Morning instilled in her the courage to think about living her life again. Mr. D'Souza was right. Megh and Bristi needed their mother. But how she would single-handedly raise her kids? She had never earned a penny in her life. Neither did she possess the qualifications and skills required to get a job at this age. Ruchita felt helpless again. There was something very wrong with her.

Later in the day, when Mrs. D'Souza called her to inform that she had booked an appointment with a psychiatrist on her behalf, she agreed instantly. She was desperately in need of someone to talk to.

*

All through her student life, Ruchita was an average student. Academics was never her forte. She never dreamt of having a career of her own. Immediately after her graduation, her parents fixed her marriage with Alokendu, the assistant professor of Mathematics working at a college in Siliguri. Ruchita left behind her bustling life in Kolkata and settled in Siliguri. Then came Megh, their son, followed by Bristi, their daughter. The family seemed complete.

Ruchita was a housewife. Just a housewife. She never needed the new-fangled titles like 'home-maker' or 'stay-at-home mom' to validate her role. She was content looking after her husband and children. She was a great cook, a good wife and a good mother. The flat was always neat and clean, always in perfect order.

As the years went by, living with each other became a habit for both Alokendu and Ruchita. Like all long-married couples, most of their chitter-chatter revolved around grocery shopping, children's exams and planning vacations. But Alokendu's untimely death suddenly disrupted the established routine of the household. Most of all, it turned Ruchita's life topsy-turvy.

*

Consultant psychiatrist Dr. Sohini Sahasrabhojanee was a woman in her mid-fifties. The silver grey hair near her temples, the round framed spectacles, the mellow wrinkles under a pair of bright eyes gave her countenance an earnest look. She looked elegant in a beige tussar saree.

In a gentle voice, she explained, "All your symptoms like bad dreams, being easily startled, having difficulty sleeping, feeling emotionally numb, point to Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. The kind of experience that you had, like the sudden, unexpected death of a loved one, can cause PTSD."

"Doctor, do you think that I am overreacting? Instead of thinking about my children's well-being, I am thinking of my own miseries only. Am I being selfish?"

"No. Not at all. It is natural to feel afraid during and after a traumatic situation. Fear triggers many split-second changes in the body to help defend against danger or to avoid it. This 'fight-or-flight' response is a typical reaction meant to protect a person from harm. Nearly everyone will experience a range of reactions after trauma. Some people recover from initial symptoms naturally. Some take time to recover. That's it."

Ruchita felt at ease. Finally she had met someone who understood her without being judgmental and didn't label her as being weird.

"I can prescribe medication to control the symptoms. But you also need to take care of yourself. Take time for the things you enjoy, accept help from others when needed. I'd advise you to practice meditation. This will train you to focus on your breath and you'll learn to avoid getting carried away by stressful thoughts. Your homework will be to identify activities that you find pleasurable and try to do at least one of these before we meet again. Meanwhile, continue taking the medicines that I have prescribed. Lets meet next week."

That week, Ruchita focussed on finishing her homework. After much deliberation, she came to the conclusion that cooking was one activity which she enjoyed most. She had not cooked a proper meal since her husband's death. So she decided to cook Italian cuisines, something her children loved to eat. She cooked delectable spaghetti with prawns, zucchini and mushrooms in extra virgin olive oil and chicken with red and yellow bellpeppers. For dessert, she made chocolate truffle with almonds. After a long time, she relished the meal alongwith her children. She realised that when she was active, her mood improved, and this encouraged her to plan more activities.

*

"Good afternoon, Ruchita.", Dr. Sahasrabhojanee warmly welcomed her when she visited her clinic next week.

"I want to hear about how you're feeling and how your week went.", said the doctor. The casual chit-chat put her at ease.

"Now close your eyes and recall the moment when you received the call on that dreaded night. Recall what went through your mind."

A lone teardrop rolled down her cheeks as she tried to relive the bitter incident.

"Now think about the times you have received calls in your mobile since your husband's death. Did you receive any bad news?"

"No."

"Then why do you still fear when the mobile rings? It doesn't necessarily bring bad news always. Slowly try to push the trauma out of your mind."

Dr. Sahasrabhojanee identified three goals for her.

"The first goal is to feel happy, which would mean that you will engage in activities that you find pleasurable. The second goal is to reduce your nightmares so you could sleep through the night and no longer woke up in a cold sweat. The third goal is to think about your husband's death without getting upset."

Ruchita started to meditate and started yoga every morning. She started trying new recipes, something she had always enjoyed. She was slowly getting back to her former self.

*

Ruchita was taking a stroll with Mrs. D'Souza in the lawn inside their complex one evening.

"Ruchi, do you know Shyam Sharma? He lives in our complex. Poor fellow! He doesn't know how to cook. So he mostly orders food from restaurants. Those unhealthy food has started to take a toll on his health. He was asking me whether I know someone who'll be able to provide him home-cooked meals. Ruchi, why don't you supply him meals? You are such a good cook. That way, you'll also earn a few bucks."

Ruchita mulled over Mrs. D'Souza's idea. This was the only way to earn some money by putting her culinary skills to good use. She tried to give it a shot and agreed to Mrs. D'Souza's proposal. A lot of bachelors and students lived in 'Magnolia'. She posted on the Whatsapp group of 'Magnolia Residents Association' that she'd be happy to supply meals. Soon orders started to pour in. Initially, she couldn't even handle the number of orders coming in. She quickly figured out packing and designed quite an extensive menu. Many people who would eat lunch in their office canteens in normal times preferred home chefs during pandemic. Soon Ruchita made a flourishing business out of her culinary skills.

*

Dr. Sahasrabhojanee gifted Ruchita a poetry book on their last meeting. When Ruchita started reading the book, she noticed that Dr. Sahasrabhojanee had underlined few lines of a poem written by Edgar Guest. Whenever she felt afraid at night, she remembered those lines and reminded herself that she would find her courage again:

"When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,

When the road you're trudging seems all up hill,

When the funds are low and the debts are high,

And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,

When care is pressing you down a bit,

Rest if you must -- but don't you quit."

Note: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder comes from some type of traumatic event or disturbing event that overwhelms our capacity to cope. According to American Psychological Association, "Women are twice as likely to develop PTSD, experience a longer duration of post-traumatic symptoms and display more sensitivity to stimuli that remind them of the trauma." Sadly, PTSD in women is often unnoticed and undiagnosed. Many women who are victims of PTSD do not realize that they have the disorder. Read more about PTSD here and here.

This post was one of the shortlisted entries for the July 2020 Muse of the Month contest and has been published on Women's Web as a featured post. Click here to read the full story.

The Tiger Widows of the Sundarbans.

 

"At least, I am fortunate to have an education which they lack. These girls get married at a very early age with little or no education. Trafficking of women is also rampant here."

Have you heard the name of Sundarbans? If you are able to recollect the Geography lessons that you learnt in school, you’ll probably recognise the name. It’s the island cluster at the confluence of Ganges, Brahmaputra and Meghna rivers in the Bay of Bengal in south Asia. It’s home to the world’s largest mangrove forest and lair of the royal Bengal tiger.

For years, the Sundarbans delta is where multiple cyclones in the Bay of Bengal have been first to hit, be it cyclone Aila in 2009, cyclone Bulbul in 2019 or the most recent cyclone Amphan in 2020.

Since cyclone Amphan hit, I’d been enthusiastic about heading to the Sundarbans to report on the extent of the destruction caused. Isolated from the main land, this delta and it’s inhabitants have always intrigued me.

By the way, I am Amrita Mitra, a journalist working with the newspaper “The Daily Chronicle” based in Kolkata. I am known for my intrepidity in my office and after the devastating cyclone hit West Bengal, I was the first to come forward for reporting on the worst-hit islands of Sundarbans.

I got in touch with a few Sundarbans experts and NGOs working there, who suggested that the Gosaba belt was worst hit. Finally, I decided to visit Kumirmari village of Gosaba belt. It was decided that Aveek, a photographer working with our newspaper, would accompany me. One NGO working there, named “Aalor Dishari” (literally meaning “the harbinger of light”) said that they’d arrange our visit to Kumirmari.

*

We took a steamer from Godkhali Ferry Ghat to reach Gosaba. When we got down from the steamer at Gosaba, we spotted a wrecked launch boat, half of it submerged. It seemed like the launch boat was preparing us for the devastation ahead. From Gosaba, we shifted to a boat to take us to Kumirmari. The river Bidyadhari looked unusually calm and serene, albeit a bit swollen. The mangrove forests lining both sides of the river enthralled me.

The boat came to a halt on a mudbank. I somehow managed to flounder across the mudbank. Two workers of “Aalor Dishari” were waiting for us in bike. They introduced themselves to us as Sanjay and Alok.

I rode pillion in Sanjay’s bike to visit Kumirmari. Uprooted trees, huts without roofs, bended electric poles, household items strewn here and there – the signs of destruction were conspicuous everywhere.

“Madam, lets go to the local school. A community kitchen has been set up there,” informed Sanjay.

*

Outside the school building, some local residents had gathered with aluminium bowls and plates for taking khichuri (a broth made out of rice and lentils). What intrigued me most, however, was the fact that the majority of these people belonged to one gender – woman. Weary, poverty-stricken women in tattered white sarees, some carrying toddlers in their arms. The signs of starvation were writ large on their faces. I looked quite out of place there in my Levi’s jeans and fabindia kurti.

“Sanjay, tell me one thing. Where are the menfolk of this village? There are so few men here,” I asked Sanjay.

“The men had died, madam. Majority of inhabitants of this village are bagh-bidhobas (tiger widows). Their husbands were killed by tigers while they were fishing, catching crabs or collecting honey for their livelihoods.”

This revelation startled me. “So how do these women manage to eke out their livings?”

“Come, let me introduce to Souravi Mondal, the local school teacher. She is working relentlessly for the last eleven years for the rehabilitation of these tiger widows. It’s she who made contact with our NGO, narrated the plight of these women and requested us to work here for the welfare of these women.”

*

SOURAVI

Eleven long years. Yet eleven seems just another number as the devastation caused by cyclone Amphan brought back horrid memories of Cyclone Aila.

I was reluctant to marry Rampada right from the day the local ghatak (match-maker) visited our home in the hope of fixing my marriage to him. He hailed from the neighbouring village of Rangabelia. He was the only son and heir of a wealthy landowner. I had just completed my graduation in English Literature from a college in Kolkata and was looking for a teaching job. But my parents didn’t find any reason to reject Rampada and soon the marriage was fixed.

On the wedding night, when we were exchanging garlands, the stink of cheap country liquor assailed my noses. At that very moment, I realised that my life was doomed.

Rampada whiled away most of his time in playing cards with his friends or eve-teasing village women. He was a habitual alcoholic and had serious rage issues. He yelled at me, grabbed my hair and slapped me quite often. I wanted to walk out of the marriage. But my mother advised against it. She said that perhaps a child would be able to alter the equation of our marriage.

I was seven months pregnant. But that didn’t stop Rampada from beating me black and blue. I finally made up my mind to walk out of my abusive marriage.

While cyclone Aila struck at high tide, I gave birth to a baby girl at the Gosaba Block hospital. Born prematurely, it weighed only 1500 grams. Doctors were apprehensive whether it would survive. But deep in my heart, I knew that it would. I named her Aparajita — the one who cannot be defeated. Lying at the maternity ward of the hospital, I listened to the sound of Bidyadhari splitting open the embankments through all night.

*

“Didimoni, some people from the press have come to meet you.”, Gita’s yell broke my reverie.

*

AMRITA

The woman seemed to be in her mid-thirties. She was wearing a cheap cotton saree.

“Namaskar”, she joined her palms in greeting us as a zen smile spread across her face.

*

Twilight was descending slowly on earth. In the fading daylight, Souravi was showing us the sprawling vocational centre of the Kumirmari Gram Vikas Kendra. The tin roof of the centre had been blown away by cyclone Amphan.

“Here volunteers from NGOs train women to be independent through vocations like embroidery, tailoring, fish farming, poultry farming etc. But Amphan has brought the women back to square one. It breached the embankments of Bidyadhari, inundating our village with saline water. Ponds of fish farming are filled with saline water, killing all the fish. Hundreds of full-grown chickens and chicks were washed away.”, she said ruefully.

“Life is really tough here. Living in the city, we can’t imagine the kind of hardship people face here.”, I said.

Sanjay chimed in. “But didimoni went from door to door and made the people to come forward to fight against all odds. It’s because of her that people have started to think about bettering their lives on their own without waiting hopelessly for the sorkaari relief materials to reach here. I guess this bidhoba para (widow’s hamlet) will become a model of community kitchen in future.”

“Yes, that’s because I never believed in giving in to destiny. We’ll fight against all odds and make our own future.” Souravi’s eyes were glistening. “Aila taught me to become self-reliant while Amphan taught me that in order to survive, it’s necessary to incorporate the people around you in the struggle against nature’s fury.”

Then after a brief pause, she said slowly, “You know Amrita, I grew up in a sheltered environment. My father was the headmaster of the local secondary school. So I never understood the daily struggles of these women, in spite of living among them. Then by a strange twist of fate, I became a single mother myself. And I suddenly started to realise how hard their lives are. At least, I am fortunate to have an education which they lack. These girls get married at a very early age with little or no education. Trafficking of women is also rampant here. I decided to stand beside them and support them in whatever ways I can. I made contacts with various NGOs and was finally able to build this vocational centre for them.”

I suddenly started to see Souravi in a new light. She seemed to be not just a school teacher, but a harbinger of change in a remote village of the Sundarbans.

“I think that when you fall down, you start looking at the world differently. Because the world looks different from the ground.”, she whispered.

Author’s Note: This story is a work of fiction based on the true lives of tiger widows of Sundarbans. The Sundarbans islands are home to 4.5 million people and 86 (photographed) tigers. The islands are believed to shelter hundreds of widows, locally called “Bagh Bidhoba”. In most of the cases, government compensation does not cover the fatalities that occurred in the restricted core of the tiger reserve.

This story is the second winning entry of the June 2020 Muse of the Month contest at Women's Web.

TikTok

"To be creative means to be in love with life. You can be creative only if you love life enough that you want to enhance its beauty, you want to bring a little more music to it, a little more poetry to it, a little more dance to it.", writes Osho. Does this resonate with you? Are you blessed with a melodious voice and love to croon at times? Do you love to groove to the tune of songs? Are you an expert at cooking mouth-watering cuisines? Are you a fitness freak and want to share your knowledge about staying fit to the world at large? Or do you just want to talk about important social issues and want to bring some positive change in society? If any of these is true for you, you are a creative person beyond doubt.

 

We all know that the world wide web plays an important role in carving your creative niche and enabling you to reach out to more people. One such platform is TikTok. It's a very popular short video platform. Here you can create videos of singing, dancing, cooking, or you can just lip-sync to popular songs and brighten up an otherwise dull and dreary day.

 

But TikTok is not only about entertainment. It has also contributed towards educating masses about pressing issues of our masses. For example, recently the whole country was going through lockdown to contain the spread of COVID-19. In this time of the pandemic, TikTok launched an in-app quiz - "Kheloge Aap, Jeetega India", to build public awareness about COVID-19. Then there was the #GharBaithoIndiaCampaign to share ideas on how to stay safe and beat the lockdown blues.

 

Recently TikTok took an initiative under TikTok for Good to conduct workshops with various NGOs in order to generate awareness about critical social issues. The objective was to make the NGOs aware of how TikTok can be utilized to raise public awareness about pressing issues that concern the society at large. 

 

There was another campaign named #ShabashIndia as an intitiate to celebrate or rather salute the people who have contributed to the safety of the nation by staying at home or by working in order to contain the spread of COVID. TikTok created a fun video film to show how people are staying put by trying new things at home. 

In short, TikTok not just entertains, but educates also. "Our mission is to inspire creativity and bring joy.", says TikTok. By bringing the opportunity to showcase their talents to the masses, TikTok is surely democratizing creativity in India. So what are you waiting for? Download the TikTok app, unleash your creativity, make yourself known to all, or simply get entertained and educated. Click here to download TikTok. To watch the new videos in TikTok, click here.

Movie Review: Kadambari

"Tomarei kariachi jibaner dhrubatara

A samudre ar kabhu habo nako pathahara..."

(I have made you my life's cynosure

Ne'er again shall I be lost in this ocean.")

This song, written by Bengal's Nobel Prize winning poet Rabindranath Tagore, was published in 1880 in his collection of poems titled 'Bhagno-hridoy' when he was just 19 years of age. In this book, for the first time a page for dedication was included and this song was used. The page indicated that the book was dedicated to 'Mrs. Hey...'. Lots of research has been done to decipher the code name. The name of the main witch in the Macbeth is Heckety. It was later known that Rabindranath used to call his sister-in-law, Kadambari Devi, this name in order to ridicule her. Researchers now are almost certain that this 'Mrs. Hey...' is nobody else but Kadambari. Director Suman Ghosh's film "Kadambari", based on the life of Kadambari Devi, ends with this song.

The film "Kadambari", based on Sunil Gangopadhyay's "Prothom Alo", Mallika Sengupta's "Kobir Bouthan" and the writings of Rabindranath Tagore, scans the life of Kadambari Devi from the time she entered the Tagore household as a young bride till she committed suicide. Kadambari Devi's suicide is one of the sensational events in the cultural history of Bengal. Rabindranath Tagore was particularly fond of this sister-in-law of his. The film explores their relationship and the lives of the women of Tagore household of that time.

Kadambari Devi was the wife of Jyotirindranath Tagore and daughter-in-law of Debendranath Tagore. She was almost a decade younger than her husband, whom she married on 5th July, 1868, (the 25th day of the Bengali month Ashar, the year being 1275 according to the Bengali calender) at the tender age of ten years. It was customary for girls of that time to get married early, Kadambari being no exception. Being the daughter-in-law of the illustrated Tagore household, she had certain privileges, like getting educated or riding horse, unlike other women of her generation. 

Kadambari Devi was the daughter of the accountant of the Tagore household. That's why other women of the household, especially Jnanadanandini Devi, wife of Satyendranath Tagore, resented her being the daughter-in-law of the Tagore household and looked down on her. Early in her marriage, she had to accept the hard truth that she would never be able to become the 'Ghorer Bou' of Tagore household.

Rabindranath Tagore, her brother-in-law, was almost of her age. So while Jyotirindranath was busy with his literary nuances, theatre and other hobbies such as ship business and some other business ventures, her only confidante in her humongous matrimonial palace became Robi. Robi too found the biggest critique and greatest admirer of his literary endeavours in his Notun Bouthan. This friendship that blossomed between two persons of same age can't be termed as love, yet Kadambari found an emotional anchorage in this friendship, especially given the almost non-existent role of her husband in her life.

Kadambari failed to bear any children from her marriage and was taunted as 'banja'  (the Bengali synonym used for childless women) by other women of the household. She found solace in a little girl Urmila, daughter of her sister-in-law. Urmila had an untimely death. She fell down from the staircase while Kadambari was asleep. Everyone in the family accused Kadambari's negligence for Urmila's death.

Meanwhile, Kadambari's growing intimacy with Rabindranath irked other members of the Tagore family. They hastily arranged the marriage of Rabindranath Tagore, which made Kadambari further lonely. She at that time desperately sought the much-needed solace from her husband, who was supposed to be her partner for life. But at this crucial junction of life, she came to know of the existence of another woman in her philanderer husband's life, which ultimately propelled her to take her own life on 19th April, 1884, just four months after the poet's marriage with Mrinalini Debi. 

What prompted Kadambari to end her life prematurely, at the tender age of twenty-six? Twenty-six is by no means a dieable age. Was she seeking something more than friendship from her childhood playmate Rabindranath Tagore? Was this friendship bordering on the fringes of love? Or was it the inability to conceive a child? A child could have perhaps saved her loveless marriage with Jyotirindranath. She didn't leave any suicide note behind, so we can only speculate about the probable cause of her death. Or was it all these factors together that took a toll on her? Intrigued by the movie, when I searched the web to know more of this woman, the sepia coloured portrait that came up somehow gave me the impression of a lonely, bereft woman.

Kadambari's life serves as a reminder how far we have come from that era when women didn't have any identity apart from being someone's wife or someone's mother. It reminds us of the struggle our foremothers had gone through. A dysfunctional, childless marriage spoiled a woman's life who could have had a brilliant literary career had she been born in another era. We are fortunate to live in an era where we can think of a life outside marriage and kids. This movie reaffirms this fact and that's why it's a must-watch for all.

This post titled "Why The Movie Kadambari Made Me Appreciate My Freedom Just A Little More" has been published on Women's Web as a Featured Post. Featured Posts are a careful selection of highly relevant and interesting posts picked up by the editor's of Women's Web each day. To read the full story, Click here.

Encounter of Rapists in Hyderabad: Is It Justified?

6th December, 2019. This day will be etched forever in the collective memory of women-folk of India. While four men accused of the heinous rape and murder of a woman vet Disha in Hyderabad was killed in an early morning "encounter" by the Cyberabad police, the day ended with the dismal news of death of the rape victim of Unnao, Uttar Pradesh. Is it a day to celebrate or a day to mourn?

The public opinion is divided on the legality and even necessity of the encounter killing of the  four accused. While many hailed the cops and the Telangana government for killing the four men, many in fact raised concern over due process of law taking a back-seat. Will it set a alarming trend of taking law in one's one hand? Or will it be able to instill fear in the minds of potential rapists and act as a deterrent for crimes against women?

Due Process of Law- What it means in India

The Nirbhaya rape case that took place in 2012 in Delhi, was so horrific that it shook the conscience of the entire nation. Nirbhaya was brutally gang-raped in a moving bus at night and later she died. One of the key accused in the case got away with minor punishment on account of being a juvenile at the time of the crime. Another died in jail, apparently by suicide. Rest four accused have not been executed till date, 7 years after the crime. Nirbhaya case is a classic example of "justice delayed, justice denied". Her poor parents are still waiting for justice for their deceased daughter. This is a case of following due process of law.

Take the more recent Unnao rape case. The 23-year-old gangrape survivor was beaten, stabbed and set ablaze by five men, including two of her alleged rapists, in her village in Unnao district in Uttar Pradesh on 5th December, 2019 while she was on her way to meet her lawyer. One of the accused, Shivam Trivedi, was granted bail in "due process of law" just 5 days before the ghastly incident. Yet the girl followed law and while running in a ball of fire, called the police control room. She suffered 90% burns and finally on 6th December, 2019, at 11:40 p.m. succumbed to her injuries. Hours after she was stabbed and set ablaze, she told her brother, "Save me, I don't want to die." Her words on her last day bring tears to my eyes. Being alive has become a luxury for women in India, which many cannot afford. Yet we are all praise for "due process of law." This is symptomatic of a larger systematic failure. India has failed her daughters. "Due process of law" has failed to make the women live their lives, let alone delivering justice to the victims.

Encounter Killing: What does the law say?

The only two circumstances in which such killing would not constitute an offence were

(i) "if death is caused in the exercise of the act of private defence", and

(ii) under Section 46 of the CrPC, which "authorises the police to use force, extending upto the causing of death, as may be necessary to arrest the person accused of an offence punishable with death or imprisonment for life."

So technically speaking, the encounter by the Cyberabad police is not an offence under the law. According to police, they had taken the four accused to the spot to reconstruct the crime and recover the veterinarian's mobile phone and accessories, when the unarmed men somehow managed to snatch two guns from their escort of 10 cops, all of whom were armed. Then they opened fire, while other two accused pelted stones and attacked cops with sticks. Police fired back as the accused tried to flee. Later police found the four accused lying dead. So here the death was caused due to the exercise of private defence by the police, which cannot be termed "offence".

But here some people are raising questions about the credibility of the claim made by police. Was it really an act of private defence on the part of the policemen? Or was it cold-blooded murder to shield the real culprits?

Already the National Human Rights Commission (NHRC) has taken suo motu cognisance on the basis of the media reports of the death of the four accused and ordered a spot inquiry by it's investigation team.

Fake Encounter: What does the law say?

In Prakash Kadam vs. Ramprasad Vishwanath Gupta, 2011, a bench of Justice Gyansudha Mishra and Justice Katju held that for fake encounters, the policemen committing it must be given death sentence. Take a look at the relevant part of the judgment:

"We are of the view that in cases where a fake encounter is proved against policemen in a trial, they must be given death sentence, treating it as the rarest of rare cases. Fake 'encounters' are nothing but cold blooded, brutal murder by persons who are supposed to uphold the law. In our opinion if crimes are committed by ordinary people, ordinary punishment should be given, but if the offence is committed by policemen, much harsher punishment should be given to them because they do an act totally contrary to their duties."

Clearly the cops conducting such encounters are at a disadvantage, jeopardizing their careers. Recently I watched a movie named "Batla House"directed by Nikkhil Advani where the character played by John Abraham engaged in an encounter against some alleged terrorists. Though the Batla House encounter is controversial to date, the movie clearly demonstrates the severe mental agony of the police officer behind the encounter. Nobody appreciated his efforts. Rather many raised concerns about his own malicious intentions behind the incident. He became an emotional wreck and at one point, he even thought of committing suicide. Thus it's clear that any police officer is not going to gain anything by taking law in his own hands. On the contrary, he has a lot to lose if proven guilty.

In this case of encounter at Hyderabad, Telangana High Court has ordered preservation of bodies and has asked the state to submit before it a video recording of the postmortem autopsy of the four accused. The court order came after it admitted a writ petition filed by a group of concerned women activists and Human Rights Organizations who alleged that the encounter killing was "extra-judicial" in nature.

The Petition filed by women activists

Take a look at what the women activists wrote to the Chief Justice:

"Endowing police with the sanction to commit murders of accused is no answer. It only distracts and shields the state from accountability. And celebrating such killings amounts to inhumanity. Such acts are uncivilized, brutal and those police-men responsible for today's crime must be brought to book. As women's groups, our challenge after today's incident only intensifies."

"We also demand that all police personnel who participated in the killing of the four accused be immediately arrested and prosecuted for the crime of homicide under Section 302 IPC."

I was shell-shocked to read the petition, that too filed by the activists who are supposed to work for women's welfare. What a strange country we live in! How strange it's citizens are! When Disha was gang-raped and set ablaze, nobody talked about her human rights. When the Unnao girl was beaten, stabbed, doused in petrol and set ablaze, nobody talked about her human rights. In this country, only the accused have human rights. Probably women are not considered human enough to have any human rights. 

Shouldn't we talk about bringing the judge who granted bail to the accused in Unnao case to book? Because if such a dangerous criminal was denied bail, the poor girl may have lived a little longer. Shouldn't we condemn the advocates who defended the accused in Nirbhaya case?

What Happens When You Normalise "Rape Culture"

Jollu Ramappa, father of Jollu Shiva, one of the accused in the gangrape and murder of Disha, told the media, "Many people committed rapes and murders. But they were not killed in this manner. Why were they not meted out such treatment?" This speaks volumes about how we have normalised "rape-culture". Now rape and murder of women are not seen as heinous crimes which call for capital punishment. Rather, awarding capital punishment to the accused is seen as gross injustice and human rights violation. Many so-called intellectuals further encourage such kind of claims. Advocate Manohar Lal Sharma, who defended one of the accused in Nirbhaya case, had argued that no man can have sex with another woman unless he gets excited. And without the cooperation of the woman, he can't get excited, essentially saying that all rape charges are fake. This kind of victim-blaming is rampant in our culture, leading to further atrocities against women.

V C Sajjanar: The "Encounter Cop"

In these circumstances, it takes someone as extra-ordinary as V C Sajjanar, Cyberabad Police Commissioner to deliver justice. In a country where only the accused have human rights, not the victim, it takes guts to do what he did. Salute to you, Sir! It's only because of people like you that I want to call India "my country". Otherwise, the recent incidents of crimes against women made me believe that women have no country. No wonder, Disha's parents have hailed the cops. Even Nirbhaya's mother is all praise for the Telangana police. 

My Own Experience

I myself have often returned home late from office. Once I went to attend a wedding reception straight from office.Though it was already late, the host insisted me to have dinner. When I returned home that day, my mother was livid. "Do you sometimes forget that you are a woman, not a man? If any untoward incident took place, everybody would accuse you only." On another occasion, I returned home at 1:30 a.m. after completing election duty. My mother advised me to stay back for the night, but I was craving for the cosiness of my own room after performing election duty for 15 hours at a stretch. My mother was shocked. "Don't you have any common sense? Which woman in her right mind takes such a foolhardy decision to return home at the wee hours of night?"

The Way Out

I dream of a country where every woman would be able to take foolhardy decisions of returning late at home without being reprimanded by family members. I dream of a country where every woman would live fearlessly. I dream of a country where the family members of a woman are not scared for her safety. To those criticizing the action of Telangana Polica, I'd request you all to put yourself in a woman's shoes and then judge why we are so euphoric about this encounter. All our lives, we live in constant fear of strangers, insecured to walk on deserted roads, afraid to return home late.

Surely, we need more fast-track courts, gender sensitisation of police force, stringent legislative measures to deal with such heinous crimes. Till we get all these, we need more cops like V C Sajjanar. Let every citizen of India be free from fear and insecurity. As Tagore had said:

"Chitto jetha voyshunyo, uchcho jetha sir,

..... Bharatere sei Swarge koro jagorito"

("where the mind is without fear and the head is held high

..... Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.")

Image is a still from the movie Batla House

This post has been published at Women's Web. Click here to read.