Since last week concerned citizens, students, women, children, senior citizens gathered around India gate and then decided to move towards Rashtrapati Bhavan to voice their anger, concern, hurt, indignation and outrage at the horrific incident that occurred a few days ago and at the increased insecurity for women in the city. They wanted to be heard. They wanted to be reassured. They wanted harsher laws for crime against women. They wanted to share their angst with those they elected. And that is why they approached the hallowed gates of our first citizen and meet him. After some persuasion a small group was allowed to meet  one of the President’s men. They were informed of the protocol regulations and told to seek an appointment. My question is why could the President not meet these kids! Was the situation not important enough to break protocol. It was not.  The letter the kids wrote hurriedly and with hope; it must be still lying on some table along the protocol journey.

The crowd were swelling and the mood angry. Kids are kids and the young are known to be in a hurry. They are not like our antediluvian politicians. They fretted and got restless. They pushed and shoved like the young do. A simple meeting would have calmed things down. But instead they got hit by water canons in the cold, had tear gas lobbed at them in scores and even got lathi charged – a preferred show of power of our cops – and pushed back. No one came to meet them or talk to them. Their anger rose and more water and tears were sent their way. And as the news spread on Live TV, angered people joined the groundswell and sadly many lumpen elements. The mood got angry.

It was a spontaneous crowd, the kind one has never seen. It was not a protest organised by a political party where people are paid to come. Here every single protesters felt the anger and the hurt. It was perhaps for the first time that we saw true democracy where the electors wanted answers. No one in power recognised this reality. Had they done so, the events that ensued.

In the late evening the Home Minister finally address a press conference. We were subjected to believe it or not praise for the police! Praise for those who had earlier used water cannons and tear gas shells! Then we were given the vapid platitudes we normally get when any aberrations occur: setting up for commissions, empty promises and more of the same. And that is not all: we were told that the minister himself and his second in command had 3 daughters and thus felt the pain and anguish of us all. Who are you kidding. First of all nothing would ever happen to YOUR daughters as they come under the hallowed and super protected category of VIPs. And had it ever happened, god forbid as this should never happen to any one, the rapists would have been killed in a convenient encounter. We were also introduced to a new concept, one that is unacceptable: the gradation of rape. There are rapes, rare rapes and rarest of the rare rapes. Believe me Mr Minister every rape is and should be considered rarest of the rare as it is the most cowardly, heinous, ugly, disgusting, despicable crime.

The day ended. The protesters were angry, the authorities felt smug.

What the young were looking for was their statesmen and leaders. For the first time young Indians – students, professionals – concerned parents, and simple citizens had come out on the streets to express their anger and hurt. For years we have born stoically all the aberrations thrust upon us. We have turned a blind eye to issues like gross corruption, poor governance and arrogant behaviour. We have waited as patiently as we could to see laws enacted and waited helplessly to see them implemented. We have paid our taxes and have reconciled ourselves to poor amenities. We even performed our civic duty by voting every time we had to.

 Saturday the 22nd of December 2012 was a red letter day for us, simple Indians. It was the day we wanted to see our Leaders and share our pain. It was a day when we still believed in them. It was a day that comes just once. Our leaders did not see the writing on the wall. How wonderful it would have been if our First Citizen broke protocol and accepted to meet a few young Indians. How healing it would have been if our CM had come and sat with the young protesters. How uplifting it would have been if one of the younger politicians has broken all rules and come and met the very people who make them leaders. Then all the ugly incidents that ensued would not have happened.

One may wonder why this rape incident struck such a chord in the hearts of so many when so many rapes and other aberration occur. It was probably the straw that breaks the camel’s back. The story of the young woman so brutally raped was the catalyst that made us scream ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!

The next day genuine protesters were back. Some had even spent the night despite the cold. But the police swung into action and pushed everyone out of India Gate and surrounding areas. However how far can you push people. They had to be let in. Protests continued. Against the rapists but also against the cop’s behaviour. Sadly lumpen elements joined the show and very ugly scenes ensued. The brutality of the police was shocking: women, young students, senior citizens – no one was spared. It was vicious, barbaric, more so as the main issue that was being addressed was the safety of women. Need I say more.

The next day the entire India Gate area was shit to Indians. Even morning walkers were not allowed in. An alternate place has been given and young people are still protesting. But there are less people. I guess many parents must have not allowed their girls to join in after the terrible events of the previous day.

The Home Minister spoke again. According to him every demand has been acceded to. I guess he is in sync with the powers that be: commission set, empty promises spouted. He also insulted our intelligence by trying to make us believe that the unruly happenings were politically instigated. A terrible sense of deja vu! He has missed the point though as this time we are protesting against this very attitude. When asked by a reporter why no one from the government did not go and meet the young people on the first day he was  horrified: how can they come and meet us. It has to be the other way! He missed the point again: this is the attitude we are protesting against: the VIP culture, the disconnect between those we elected and us. We were also subjected to more platitudes. The Congress President and the heir in waiting missed a golden opportunity to reach out to the very people who could have made all the difference in 2014. Now it is too late. Nothing you door say can make us forget the terrible images of December 23rd 2012.

And finally when the Prime Minister did finally condescende to speak to the nation, a blooper or Freudian slip said it all. It was all a show.

We need statesmen and leaders. Till then nothing is theek hai!

If there was an Oscar for insensitivity, I am certain Delhi Police would have won it hands down! It was a huge shock to hear, on the much awaited press conference of the Delhi Police Commissioner and the Home secretary, praise for the police for having cracked the case so speedily. Just allow me a moment as I am unable to contain my anger and need to gather my racing thoughts…

That was not all. We were then subject almost ad nauseum to a string of meaningless and somewhat galling  statistics: how many buses were impounded post the incident, how many tinted windows were checked, how many charge sheets were registered in the past year, how many rapes occurred last year, this year.. and when the figure for this year happened to be higher the PC was quick to assign the increase to population increase and/or increase of women coming forward to register cases. Who are you kidding. It looked like a PR exercise aimed at whitewashing a police that has lost all credibility. Sorry Sir it did nor work! Your blowing your own bugle sounded terribly false. And then the stats that you threw at us were pathetic.

First of all the measures announced seemed to be based on the premise that a similar incident may occur again. God forbid! That is not what all our anger is about. Our anger is about all the abuse that women go through every time they step out of their homes and whatever their caste, creed and age. I would like to draw your attention on the latest rapes in the city: a 3 year old in her play school and a 40 year old mother of 4 in her home. So forget about your tinted windows and your check on illegal buses figures and talk about facts. Come to think of it, if all your cops have been doing for the past day or so is check tinted windows no wonder rapes continue. God help us all! The Home secretary repeated use of the words ‘brilliant’ and ‘outstanding’ to commend the police was galling, to say the least. The police failed that young woman that night. This is a sad reality. And by the way the tinted windows should have been checked 6 months ago following a supreme court order. Why was it not then when as according you it took just a day to check so many.

We have been promised a safe Delhi but in the same breath been told that all bars etc will have to close at 1am. Cannot figure this one. Our CM was on the box too. She told us that she hated Delhi being called the Rape Capital. So do we. Please do something. We do not want to hear again ad nauseum that you are not in charge of the police. If that is a deterrent to things goings right, let us do something. Crying on national TV does not cut ice. We are past tears. We have cried for far too long. Our tears have dried up and been replaced by anger and rage. PR exercises and tears cannot begin to heal our hurt.

We need better laws. Actually we need better implementation of existing laws too. We need a sensitive police. None of us feel comfortable walking into a police station. Come to think of it, we are leered at there more than anywhere else. And we all know the power of money where cops are concerned. Maybe it is time to set the cop house in order. Charity begins at home, does it not! Maybe the recruitment policy should be looked. I am told from the horse’s mouth that you have to pay lacs of rupees to get recruited. No wonder you then need to make up the loss through bribes collected.

The CM has announced  the setting up of a round the clock control room for women in distress. One then needs to define distress. Do we call the number each time we are groped or given a once over. I do not see how it works.

Everyone is crying death for the culprits though the cops have said they would go for life imprisonment. True a harsh punishment will go a long way in bringing some healing to the survivor, her family and perhaps even us. But will it stop rape? Will it stop harassment? I do not think so. It is time we look within ourselves, within our homes and  towards society and see where we have gone wrong with all the honesty that we can muster, even if we do not look good. How do we treat women; how are we treated by those near to us; how are we treated in our work place and above all why accept such treatment. Are we ready to take this journey and truly try to find long term solutions? I wish I knew the answer. Do you?

The story of the young girl fighting for her life has touched many deep chords in me. And that for many reasons. First her spirit for survival. Even the doctors are amazed at her desire to survive. But that is not all. I heard an account of the visit made by the Lok Sabha speaker to the her family. In her mellifluous and somewhat haunting drone, Ms Kumar told the moving story of this young woman. She comes from a poor family. Her mother is illiterate. The father sold the only piece of land they possessed to fulfill their daughter’s  dream: to be a doctor. A rare occurrence in a country where parents bend themselves backwards for their sons; one that is so much more touching as they have two sons. Ms Kumar was impressed by the dignity displayed by this couple in the wake of such pain. There was no anger. Just  composed acceptance and the plea that this should not happen to any other girl.

I have witnessed this dignity time and again in humble families and have been moved. The wisdom displayed by those we often do not even look at, is more than humbling. I can only salute such individuals. I can also understand why this young girl is fighting all adversities with rare courage. You see she is fulfilling a dream that has been made possible by the sacrifice and unconditional love of her parents. It is too precious to give up.

This young woman is very akin to the young girls I have been caring for ever since the project began. Young girls who have dreams. Young girls who have the passion to fulfill their dreams. I remember Babli when she first came to us. She had a congenital heart problem that needed surgery. One could see her heart beating furiously as she spoke. The very first words she said to me was that she wanted to be a ‘police’. That was her dream. I did not have the heart to tell her that even if she got operated she would not be able to be a ‘police’. I simply told her to hold on to her dream. Babli was operated upon and today studies in a boarding school. She may not become a ‘police’ but I know she will succeed in fulfilling her dream. One will simply have to revisit it a little.

Today there is a young woman battling for life, battling for her dream! A woman who wants to honour the sacrifice of her parents. For the moment her dream is on hold. I pray to all the Gods in heaven to heal her and give her the chance to fulfill her dream as her spirit is intact. I hope God will hear this prayer.

She has to live.

But there is another aspect of this terrible tragedy that has kept me awake at night. I saw a grainy picture of 4 of the perpetrators and my heart missed a beat. These boys too are just like the boys I have seen in the past years. Second generation migrants living in slums and having their own set of aspirations no matter how skewed. Kids who grow up on the street as this city only opens school gates for them after 1pm. Boys who spend their mornings hanging around the corner and probably whistling at girls passing by. Kids who grow up listening to bad lyrics of Bollywood films that often denigrate women. Kids who have no mentor. Kids who cannot process the reality they live in and that is made of conflicting images: the tradition of the family and the uber modern urban reality they face. Kids who see their fathers drinking and are quick to emulate them. Kids who see their fathers beating their moms and believe that is the right thing to do. Kids who have costly wants that no one fulfills and so they come up with their own ways. How easy it is then to go wrong.

These are the kind of children that come to project why before they go to school. We have been mentoring and guiding them to the best of our ability but this week’s incident has made my blood run cold as it proves how much these children need and makes us that much more responsible.

Everyone is talking of what should be done to ensure that such horror is never repeated. Authorities are talking of banning tinted windows, increasing patrolling etc. But the real challenge is to change attitudes and teach our young lads to respect women. Moreover it is crucial to give them quality education that allows them to grow in an enabling environment and not cramp them into classrooms with brutal and insensitive teachers. That is what the State must do. It is appalling that India’s capital city does cannot provide proper schooling to its children. All children need love, understanding, compassion and guidance. That is the only way we can bring about the change we all seek.

(I begin this post by urging you to spare a thought for Aruna who was sexually assaulted and brutalised almost 4 decades ago. Since she lies in a vegetative state abandoned by one and all: her fiance, her family, her friends and even the justice system. She waits in a dark room for death to release her from her terrible ordeal. This is what happens to victims of rape and sexual assault.)

She went to a movie with a friend in a swanky South Delhi mall.. After the movie she boarded a bus with her friend. What happened next is nothing short of a nightmare. She was  gang raped by six or seven men including the bus staff and mercilessly beaten with an iron rod. Her friend who tried to protect her was also beaten. She was then stripped and thrown out of the bus. As I write these words she is fighting for her life in a hospital. As always the authorities – in this case our Chief Minister – have promised strict action, whatever that means. Five of the six suspects seem to have been arrested. I only wonder what punishment will be meted out to them.

This happened in a city which is ruled by a woman, in a country where one if not the most powerful political person is a woman. The incident occurred in a posh area of the capital city makes it that much more alarming. In any civilised city one should be able to go and see a movie with or without a male escort and return home safely using public transport. That is what this young girl believed! Then things went terribly wrong. Many questions come to mind all begging for answers. First and foremost how was this rogue bus allowed to carry passengers? How does a passenger know whether the bus she is getting on is a genuine one? How were so many drunk staff on the bus? Maybe the transport authorities should look at that? But these are not the real questions. What really needs to be asked is why is our society churning out so many men who feel they have the right to view women as commodities, use them and then throw her away like a used object? Why do such men brazenly feel that they can get away with it?

What is horrifying in this case is the brutality meted out to this young woman. The doctors have stated they have never seen a victim of sexual assault subjected to such brutality. What could provoke these men to behave in such an outrageous manner. I heard on a new channel that they wanted to teach a lesson to the girl. A lesson for what! For being out at night; for being with a man; for fighting back; for having broken the unsaid covenant that says that women ONLY are the keepers of a family’s honour. Many questions that need to be answered one by one if one has the will to do so.

Everyday women are abused, raped,  molested, assaulted sneered at, leered at and more of the same. Many, too many, remain silent. Some cases come to light because of their being out of the ordinary like the one of the young woman. Then the show begins: politicians find a new way to espouse their agendas; the media to increase their TRPS; civil society to vent its pent up anger. The question is how long with this anger last? The authorities are masters at the waiting game. This too shall pass as everything seems to.

I think it is time we gave a thought to a woman named Aruna that we all seem to have forgotten.  It was on the 27 November 1973, almost 40 years ago, that she was raped, sodomised and strangulated with a dog chain. She has been living in a vegetative state for 4 decades, abandoned by all: her fiance, her family, the justice system, collective conscience.  Aruna’s story movingly recounts what happens to a rape victim in reality.

We clamour for quick justice for the perpetrator; but who gives justice to the victim. Even if she is not physically mutilated, she is emotionally shattered. Our system is such that if she wants justice then she has to accept being raped over and over again: by the police, the defence lawyers and the whole caboodle that makes our weak and spineless justice system.

When I was a young woman I too lived in Delhi. That was 40 years ago. I worked at the radio station and my duty hours were at night. An official car use to come and fetch me at 9 pm and drop me back at 2 am. Sometimes the cars broke down in far off places as we had to fetch people from many locations. I often would be the last one in the car but when I look back at those times I remember an array of emotions: anger, frustration but never fear. Delhi then was safe. True there was some Eve teasing and misplaced comments but not the chilling fear we are experiencing today. In those timed a stern stare would make the person look away. In those days we went out alone or with friends. I remember how we sneaked out of college at night to have paranthas at a known outlet and came back safe. We saw evening movies and caught public transport back without feeling scared. If we felt a tad apprehensive the presence of a male – pal of relative – was enough to set things right. Even the parents approved.

The recent incident has put an end to that sense of security. The girl who is fighting for her life was with a man. And  she was so brutally and inhumanely aggressed because she dared fight back. It seems that the perpetrator resented to having been bitten by her and flew in a manic rage.

Come to think of it, even the Taliban views women as  safe with a male escort. But that is not the case in India today. Women are unsafe no matter what. When they get molested or abused, authorities are quick to find fault with them, it is always what they wear, where they go etc that is the cause of the reprehensible behavior of their male counterparts.

What make men take such liberties and feel they can get away? One of the obvious reasons could be the fact that most of the cases of harassment go unpunished. Perpetrators seem to get away with alacrity and impunity. But there is more. It seems that our society has become one where though we still loudly praise Goddesses in all shades and hues, we treat our women with abject contempt.

The men that committed this heinous crime were one of a multitude that inhabit a city that has seen an exponential population growth in the past decades subsequent to the wave of migrations that we have witnessed courtesy the ever growing need of a city aspiring to become a world class one. For that to happen it needs hands willing to get dirty and those come from across its limits. The perpetrators of this week’s crime were a bus driver, a cleaner, a fruit vendor, a gym trainer. Young men eager to spend a Sunday on the prowl in their pals bus. Now rape is a power game and power comes courtesy hooch so easily available across this city. (The government seems on an overdrive in opening watering holes in every nook and corner of the city!). The perpetrators in question have been well honed in the art of denigrating women as they belong to homes where women have scant authority. They come from homes where their mothers are beaten by their drunk fathers and little girls are killed before they are born. They come from a section of society where boys are treated like demi Gods and made to believe that they have license to do anything. They come from a place where one’s whistles at the passing girls or sings cheap film lyrics that denigrate women. They come from a place where if women dare step out of line they need to be chastised at once. So when a young woman dares challenge them all their misplaced manhood is violated and they act the only way they know. That is not all. The move to the city has brought into their lives realities they cannot process or handle. It is a recipe for disaster and one sees the outcome in every aberration you hear about each and every day: children and women raped and assaulted. The question is how to we address the crux of the problem. Education? Awareness? Gender sensitisation? But what can you do when even the basic chapter on sex education is not thought in state run schools. The teacher often asks the student to read the said chapter.

The city is in damage control mode. Old laws yet to be implemented are suddenly revived:  ban on tinted windows in vehicles, more patrolling etc. Will it change anything? I for one remain sceptic. There will be a lot of hue and cry for a day or a week and then every one will revert to old ways.

It is heartwarming to see the outrage across the Nation. But can we sustain it till we ensure that things change? I do not know. But that is not enough. What needs to change is our attitude to women. Can we hope that the young men protesting on the street will be as vocal when their parents demand dowry or their sister choses to marry a person of her choice? Or will the traditions and misplaced code of honour silence their newly found cause.

There is a long way to go. Are we ready to walk the talk.

What does it take to get people to open their hearts? I am at a loss to find the right answer. This is why.

It has been almost a month since a little crew of very special children decided to craft dreamcatchers. A little background first. It has been our endeavour at the special centre to try find something that children with special needs could craft and sell. This is because the ones I call children as some have been with us for more than a decade, are now young adults and like all young adults they too want to earn a living and become independent. We have explored many avenues but they all fell short in some way or the other . Some were too heavy to mail – our waste material mats -, others too fragile – our painted earthen pots –  and so on. And of course we needed something that was not seasonal. And one more thing, we wanted everyone to participate in its making in some way or the other. That is when I thought of an object I had stumbled upon quite by chance and warmed to immediately: dream catchers. I had always been attracted to the wisdom of Native American tribes and found solace and comfort in many of their sayings.

Dream catchers are meant to filter out bad dreams and let good dreams and thoughts enter our minds. The legends are many but the bottom line is that dream catchers filters out bad forces, and help us stay on the right path in life. Is that not what all of us want! I for one believe that dreams come true and thus the dream catcher is something right up my street. Moreover it was lights and unbreakable thus solving the problems we had with our earlier ventures.  The idea was opportune and God sent as it came when we have Emily with us, a young volunteer who knows how to make dream catchers. And above all is this not the right object for our very special bunch of dreamers who can all participate in some part of the making of dream catchers. Ok they may not look perfect but remember they are made by those we far too often tend to forget or ignore.

Our dream catcher crafts persons are a motley crew of people with a huge heart. Some cannot walk, others cannot hear or talk and yet others cannot understand the world in the same manner we do. Yet they put their heart and soul in the beautiful dream catchers they create and in with each turn of the thread or feather hung they add their little prayer just for you. They wait with bated breath for orders as with each dram catcher sold their future seems a little more secure.

Behind them is a marketing team: Emily, Shamika, Rani and yours truly. We set up a Facebook page and an on line payment option. We all thought that with the thousands of friends we had, orders would pour in, particularly as it was Xmas time. But that did not happen. True some die hard friend and supporters reached out and placed orders. But that was it. Irrespective of the number of reposts, the results remained the same: a deafening silence.

 I guess people have lost the ability to see with their hearts. Wonder if anyone could tell me why.