Month: January 2013

Despite numerous attacks, there are no street protests demanding justice for the victims of acid violence. No campaigns for the basic demand for the ban of acid sales, writes Namita Bhandare.

Speaking in a clear, sing-song tone, Laxmi says she cannot forget that day on April 22, 2005 when acid was thrown on her face.

The man who attacked her was the 32-year-old brother of a friend who wanted to marry her. Because she had rebuffed him, he tracked her down to the market where she had gone to buy a book.

When she finally reached the hospital, doctors had to douse her with 22 buckets of water. “I clung to my father when he arrived and his shirt just dissolved.” She was 15 years old.

When acid first comes into contact with skin, it feels wet and cool. Excruciating pain follows within milliseconds. The acid corrodes skin and flesh to reach the bone. When thrown at the face, it melts away eyes, ears, nose, lips, mouth and eyelids.

It takes five seconds to cause superficial burns, 30 to result in full-thickness burns. Deeper wounds hurt less because they burn off the nerve cells.

In the days that follow, the burned skin dies and turns black and leathery, details a 2011 report on acid attacks by the Cornell Law School.

If this skin is not removed, the new skin that forms creates more scarring. Victims are most vulnerable to infection, including organ failure, at this stage.

Younger victims, especially children whose bodies are still growing, require staged surgeries and constant physical therapy to ensure that scarred tissue remains elastic. Laxmi has undergone seven surgeries, including to reconstruct her nose, and still needs more.

When we see a victim of this gruesome crime, our instinct is to turn away. But how do you ignore cold statistics?

The home ministry estimates there have been 500 acid attacks in the last four years — one in less than three days.

In Delhi, there have been 56 acid attacks — all women who in 98% cases were attacked by rejected suitors — between February and April. This is not a law and order ‘problem’. This is a crisis.

You can buy hydrochloric, nitric and sulphuric acid for as little as Rs. 16 a litre at your local store. Moreover, our slow legal process arms perpetrators with impunity. Until early this year acid violence came under the broad umbrella of ‘grievous hurt’.

The new law makes acid attacks punishable by a minimum of 10 years and a maximum Rs. 10 lakh fine. How those who don’t have the funds will pay is unclear.

Life after acid violence is an unending round of medical treatment, emotional scarring, penury and, worse, social ostracisation.

“In the market, mothers pull their children away,” says Laxmi. Still, she managed to complete her Class 10 and took courses in tailoring and computers. But nobody wants to hire a person with such hideous disfigurement, she says.

Her father who spent his savings on her treatment died and it’s her job with the organisation, Stop Acid Attacks that keeps her financially afloat. Meanwhile, her attacker was released on bail, got married and had two children before being sentenced to 10 years imprisonment.

In 2006, Laxmi filed a PIL in the Supreme Court asking for state compensation, rehabilitation and free medical treatment for all victims as well as the regulation of the sale of acid.

“To open a bank account, you need so many verifications. But anyone can walk into a shop and buy a bottle of acid,” she says. In 2002 Bangladesh passed a law regulating acid sale and brought attacks down by 20% a year.

Following a Supreme Court rebuke, the home secretary finally held a meeting last month of state chief secretaries to discuss the regulation of the sale of acid. But, says Laxmi’s lawyer, Aparna Bhat, “There is complete bureaucratic apathy. Nobody cares.”

There are no street protests demanding justice for the victims of acid violence. No candlelight vigils for victims condemned to a life of hell. No campaigns for the most basic demand for the ban of acid sales.

“I’m lucky,” says Laxmi. “So many others lead a life worse than death.” So many.

Twitter: @namitabhandare
The views expressed by the author are personal

Things are changing: Gender issues are now a part of the mainstream discourse, writes Namita Bhandare.

Just over a month ago would you have imagined thousands, men as well as women, marching in protest against rape? Just over a month ago would you have imagined that an online petition could cancel a New Year concert by a hugely popular rapper who sings of his rape fantasies? Just over a month ago would you have imagined policemen in Noida getting suspended after refusing to take complaints of a missing woman seriously?

To those who say nothing has changed in just over a month since the 23-year-old medical student was gang-raped, tortured and thrown off a moving bus, consider this: perhaps finally the glass is half full.

To those who say that people in public life, including politicians and dodgy godmen, continue to make outrageous statements, consider this: there is less tolerance for this kind of idiocy.

To those who say but rapes are going on – four reported in 48 hours in Delhi, three in various moving buses in Punjab, Assam and West Bengal, consider this: increased reporting could also signal increased confidence in the legal system.

Just over a month ago would you have imagined that a national meeting of the Congress would discuss women’s empowerment? In Karnataka, chief minister Jagadish Shettar has promised fast-track courts to try cases of crimes against women. In Goa, the NCP is talking about tougher laws to protect women. In Maharashtra, home minister RR Patil wants death for all convicted rapists.

But in the midst of this rash of competitive populism is the worry of ill-conceived, hastily passed legislation that could reinforce the underlying patriarchy surrounding sexual violence. To see a rape survivor as a ‘zinda laash’, to demand death for rape (because what can be worse than to be so ‘dishonoured’?) to refuse to recognise marital rape or rape within families by fathers and brothers, to insist that rape is an Indian, not Bharatiya, problem provoked by women who step out of line by the way they dress or work or mingle with men is to reinforce that patriarchy not move away from it.

The setting up of fast-track courts is a welcome step. Even as the trial of the five adult accused in last months’ horrific gang-rape begins, another court has handed down a death sentence to a 56-year-old man who raped and killed a three-year-old child.

Yet, behind the rhetoric and undeniable need for speedier trials and justice lie two questions. The first, do we wish to sacrifice due process of law? And the second is a larger question of judicial reform. The Centre has sanctioned R80 crore to appoint an additional 2,000 judges for fast-track courts. Yet, in 2010, when the law ministry allowed the setting up of morning and evening courts to dispose pending cases, particularly those of sexual assault, the scheme failed to take off with few states – the notable exception being Bihar – opting for it. There are over 3.2 crore pending cases in our courts. Where and how are we to get more judges, particularly judges who are sensitive to the issue of gender and violence? How do we begin to plug the holes?

For decades women have borne the brunt of social agitations from Chipko to the ongoing protests at the nuclear plant in Kudankulam. Now for the first time, issues of safety, crime and misogyny are part of mainstream discussion. With the 2014 general elections in sight, political parties seem to be waking up to the raw potential of the woman voter. Will 364 million women voters add a new ingredient to the old caste-region-ethnic mix?

But beyond the expedience of winning votes, women’s legislation deserves serious soul-searching, not giving in to general bloodlust that wants quick-fix action.

After being wrapped in layers of stigma, 2013 has begun as a year when women finally began to recognise that the dishonour and shame was not on them but on those who had abused them. Survivors not victims is the new mantra. Who would have imagined this just over a month ago?

Namita Bhandare is a Delhi-based writer
Twitter: @namitabhandare
The views expressed by the author are personal