Questions galore, ambiguous solutions
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| Sunset at Carter Road, Mumbai |
Having been born in Mumbai and shifting to Delhi in the
first grade, I'm usually at a loss of words for what to tell colleagues and new
friends about where I'm from. And so begins the all-too-often-said: “I was born
in Mumbai and grew up in Delhi, but don’t call me a Delhiite!” This is usually
followed by a series of questions, supplemented by nervous laughter, but I’ll
get to that in a bit.
So, what is it like, to try adjusting to the fast-paced life
of the ‘Maximum City’, after growing up in the city with the collective ‘Chalta
hai’ attitude?
For starters, it is getting used to the salty air, the
almost suffocating pollution and dealing with the slight heartbreak of never
having a ‘real’ winter.**
It is craving ‘authentic’ butter chicken and chaat,
but thoroughly enjoying the fresh seafood – whose primary ingredient hasn't been transported hundreds of miles away from the shores of Gujarat.
Then again, what is it like, to work as a journalist in the
city where you were born, and constantly reading reports about the escalating
crimes against women in the city where you spent your adolescent years?
It involves having to wait for over an hour after your shift
ends, because you want to avail of the office drop service at midnight. And
that’s only because you prefer that mode of transport, to travelling by train ‘only four
stations’, despite knowing that Mumbai is relatively safer than Delhi.
It means having to stand with your feet slightly parted, to
always walk with your elbows sticking out and to never make eye contact with
passersby.
It entails telling people to stop calling Delhi the ‘Rape
Capital’, that the city is more than just its crime statistics, that Delhi isn't entirely what the media portrays it to be. It is also about knowing
internally, that the tag couldn't be more fitting.
Delhi is a wonderful city – it has, among other aspects,
history and architecture to its name. It is also a shopaholic’s paradise, and
foodies are just spoilt for choice there.
Still, in much the same way as a coin has two sides; Delhi
is notorious for its high rates of crimes against women.
Women have occupied some of the chief political ranks (the
presidency, speaker of parliament, leader of the ruling party, leader of the
opposition, as well as several chief ministers), yet many are still faced with
issues regarding civil rights and equality. “We treat our people like dogs,
and our cattle like gods”, states political philosopher and author, Sanjeev Sabhlok,
while writing about the status of women in India, in one of his blog posts.
I'm going to go out on a limb and say that Sabhlok's words, for the most part, epitomize the sentiments of women like yours truly. This is (a rather dominant) part of the reason why I don't like being called a Delhiite, in addition to the ethnocentrism that is usually associated with the people of Delhi. But the latter is best reserved for a separate post, lest I digress more than I am already.
In a country where sexual assault on women is rife and the
widespread coverage of rape in the most brutal way (December 2012 Delhi
gang-rape case) has set alarm bells ringing, sexualised violence has reached
unparalleled heights. Covering stories on sexual abuse has severe repercussions
on each party involved (directly or indirectly) – the survivor, the alleged
perpetrator, the kin of both, and the public as a whole.
The latest most well-known such incident is that of a
27-year-old professional who was reportedly raped a month ago, by a taxi driver
employed with an international taxi service company, Uber.
Citizens nationwide were enraged. Some took to the streets
to call for a blanket ban on the company, while others continue to take to social
media to vent their ire.
Soon, enough, however, the feeling of resignation will
inevitably creep in. It happened during the gruesome murders of Radhika Tanwar,
Jigisha Ghosh and Soumya Vishwanathan,
and, notably, during the December 2012 Delhi gang-rape case.
Needless to say the 2012 case in particular affected all of
us, and continues to do so. The ever increasing number of crimes has compelled
citizens to take to the streets and shout slogans in justified fury, screaming
themselves hoarse….For about a week, or a fortnight, depending on the degree of
the crime. But then what?
To incidents like these, more and more questions seem to
mushroom each time:
What about the crimes that go unreported? What about the
rapes that are inflicted upon in cities that aren't metros, or aren't the seats
of the legislature? What about women and girls who have internalised
subservience? What about survivors who don’t report their perpetrators, for
fear of being disowned by their family, or worse, being attacked by the
officials to whom they finally mustered courage to complain?
What about companies and organisations whose reputation has
been permanently tarnished because of an individual employee’s transgressions?
(Uber and Tehelka being the most recent) Are they to blame for employing the
alleged criminal?
Certainly, when in the process of hiring a prospective
employee, an organisation is supposed to conduct thorough background checks and
make note of any criminal history – whether indicted or acquitted; But is the
onus not on an individual to, for one, refrain from doing anything that may
cause disrepute to his employer, but more importantly, from causing unwarranted harm to
another person?
For instance, Uber has been receiving flak for their
lackadaisical behaviour while hiring the driver, SK Yadav, accused of rape. The
company reportedly employed Yadav without conducting complete background
checks. Yadav was driving the taxi while on bail, on a slew of previous charges
including rape and molestation.
This case, however, is not in isolation. Apart from being
banned in Delhi, Uber continues to face legal challenges for somewhat similar
reasons across the world in countries such as Spain, Netherlands, France, and
within the USA, in Illinois, California, Oregon and Nevada.
Still, there is a silver lining in all of this. The
escalating number of rape cases being reported is an indicator that more
survivors are speaking out against their perpetrators – a huge move forward as
compared to a decade ago when the subject of rape itself was taboo, let alone
talking about it openly. In addition to survivors not letting their rape define
them, the issue has triggered public discourse regarding rape culture, as well
as punitive measures to curb such incidents.
Conceivably, the actions of the youth and the 'progressive
older generation', will aid in more survivors reporting their perpetrators,
and, in the larger scheme of things, open up more avenues for debate about the
subject.
One can, for now, only hope.
** As I type this, I am in Delhi and about thirty hours from returning to Mumbai. From 'Sweater weather' to 'Sweat weather'. Sigh.
