It Goes Back A Long Way
If at all there is to be a
heroine of the Indian #MeToo movement, that is currently naming and shaming
sexual predators on social media, it is Rupan Deol Bajaj.
For those who are too young
to remember, Bajaj, an IAS officer of the Punjab cadre, accused the
much-admired KPS Gill—then Director General of Police, Punjab-- of outraging
her modesty. At a party in July 1988, at the Chandigarh residence of the then
Punjab Financial Commissioner SL Kapoor, Gill patted her butt and propositioned
her. One can imagine the gathering of highly placed government officials--and
Gill had the temerity to do such a thing, because he must have been sure that
no woman would have the nerve to object, and certainly not to drag him to
court. Her husband, BR Bajaj, also a senior IAS officer, stood by her, when the
case became high-profile because of the people involved, and a majority of the
people of our country felt that she was making a big fuss over a trivial issue.. Women, who go through much worse than this
relatively mild instance of groping, were the first ones to turn against Bajaj
for hurting the reputation of Gill. Crude jokes were made about what came to be
known in he media as the “butt slapping” case, as if was just a minor
misdemeanor by a teenager, rather than a terrible thing done by a man whose
duties included protecting women from harassment.
This was before the issue of
sexual harassment came out of the closet so to say, and much before women could
find support on social media platforms. There
were journalists present at the party, but nobody reported the incident. Rupan Deol
Bajaj was in a position of power herself, but it was a long and bitter battle
for her dignity; she was targeting for ridicule, while Gill did not suffer any
negative effects on his career or reputation. Bajaj was
given two punishment postings after she filed the case, while Gill was only
debarred from attending parties after 8.30 pm. Later, he was awarded a Padma
Shri for his work in controlling militancy in the state.
It was as late as 2005 that
the Supreme Court of India upheld the charges against Gill; though he did not
have to go to jail, he had to pay a fine of Rs 200,000. Bajaj did not accept
any monetary compensation, so the court directed that the money be given to a
women’s organization.
Which ordinary woman would
have the courage or means to pursue a case for 17 years, and also the spine to
suffer the consequences of her fight for dignity?
Think of another case, also involving a senior police officer, that
ended in tragedy. In August 1990, Ruchika
Girhotra was a 14-year-old student, was molested by Haryana’s Inspector General
of Police, Shambhu Pratap Singh Rathore. The act was witnessed by her friend,
Aradhana. The girls were too frightened to tell anybody what had happened, but
when Rathore summoned them to his office again, they told their parents.
After Ruchika’s father made a
complaint, Rathore pulled out all stops to intimidate her family. Ruchika was
expelled from school, where, Rathore’s own daughter Priyanjali was her
classmate. Disgustingly, Rathore’s wife Abha, a lawyer, defended him in court.
When Ruchika went out of the
house, she was abused by Rathore’s men. False case of theft, murder and civil defamation were filed against
Ruchika's father Subhash, and her 10-year-old brother Ashu. Her brother was
picked up by plain-clothed cops, tortured and illegally detained for two months.
Cases were filed against Aradhana and her parents. Her father was suspended
from his job, and later demoted. Aradhana had ten civil cases filed against her
by Rathore and received abusive and threatening calls relentlessly. Pankaj
Bhardwaj, the lawyer who took up Ruchika's case, was bullied by Rathore, so
were local journalists who reported on the case. Her father lost his job in a bank and they
were forced to sell their home to one of Rathore’s men and leave town, while
Rathore used his clout with politicians to get promotions and medals.
Unable to bear the trauma
inflicted on her and her family, Ruchika committed suicide on 28 December 1993, after Ashu was paraded in handcuffs
in his area. Rathore reportedly threw a
party that night to celebrate. Even after her death, her family was forced to
sign blank papers, so that her post mostem report could be fudged. It is
impossible to imagine what a monster he was, as were the men who plotted the
agony inflicted on the Girhotra family. What kind of men could beat and torture
a child? What kind of wife and daughter could condone this behavior? Did none
of the people who colluded with Rathore have the courage to say: Stop?
After 19 years and over 400
hearings, Rathore was found guilty and sentenced to a ridiculous six months in
prison and a fine of Rs 1000. The Central Bureau of Investigation sought an
enhancement of the sentence. After more legal wrangling, during which he was
even granted bail, the Supreme Court upheld
Rathore's conviction in the molestation case but restricted the punishment to
six months in jail already served by him, considering his age. They cared about
his discomfort, but no sympathy for the girl who died, her family and friends,
who went through a horrific ordeal.
These are just
two cases of many that go unreported, or the victims are forced to keep silent.
Today, if women are speaking
out against sexual harassment and outing predators, it is the result of a cumulative
rage suppressed for centuries, when justice was not done to women who suffered
abuse. Even now, the women protesting are the ones who can afford to; what
about the millions of women who have to option but to submit, because their
livelihood – or life--depends on the will of their tormentors.
Tanushree Dutta’s complaint
of harassment by Nana Patekar triggered off the Indian #MeToo movement, but now
we can see, it is only the tip of an immense iceberg.
Comments
Post a Comment