When safety and equality for women is a possibility
Nirbhaya's gang rape shook all of us from the collective dormancy that our society had accepted as a way of life. It was a powerful jolt that shook me and left me searching for answers. I was a wife, a mother, a daughter and a woman and yet I was looking to validate my identity in a society that was unfortunately biased to my kind.
On December 18, 2012, two days after the horrific incident, as the gut-wrenching details of the assault made it to the headlines, the capital witnessed the youth taking to the streets like never before. Tired and angry, this wasn't a mob, it was a protest of unheard voices but they were so loud and clear now that the foundations of many an institution were left quaking. For what seemed outrage to the state, was a sign of change to follow. And when the assault of water cannons and tear gas was unleashed in the hope that the crowd would disperse; the only thing that remained adamant was hope for millions in the country, who had been searching for the same answers as me. It was then that I decided to cling on to filmmaking and embark on a journey that had been guided by the torch that Nirbhaya illuminated in our hearts.
Over the past three years, I have witnessed the start of a dialogue. Be it civil society, the justice system, the police and the administration, each agency has taken the effort to move in the direction of change. There was a point while filming the documentary, I met Gudiya, the five-year-old who was raped and mercilessly tortured in East Delhi and left to bleed by the assailants, and the scars from the attacks (physical and psychological) left me disturbed to the point it became difficult for me to continue. But as I mustered the courage to move forward, I discovered the once-rusted machinery of change was now slowly rediscovering its rhythm. From landmark judgments, gender sensitisation workshops, inter-gender communication to deep-seated misogyny paving way to progressive ideas, I witnessed a change that could have been unfathomable till a few years back.
I went to the police with the complete belief that they belonged on the other side of the fence, that they were these high-headed protectors of law who were inherently chauvinistic. After weeks of filming, I realised that they were simply the reflection of the ordinary citizen, almost a mirror image.
When the female officer takes off her uniform and changes back to civilian clothing, she still has the same fear as any other woman going back home after sunset. The police has the same feeling of pain, disgust, frustration when a case of a rape or sexual assault comes to their notice as it does with us when we read it in the news. I went into the story with biases around me and three years later, I came out with them, shattered.
Through a brutal rape and death, the nation paid a heavy price to sit up and realise that its daughters had the right to a life of dignity. No, rapes haven't stopped, domestic violence hasn't stopped, treating women as second class citizens hasn't stopped either, but what has started is the promise of hope that safety and equality for the woman aren't just utopian concepts but a possibility. This is a fight we cannot afford to lose and actually we have no choice but to win.