Rape victims from North-East flee Delhi

Shunned by neighbours people and also by people of their own community, the victims had no option but to leave the city, said Madhu Chandra, spokesperson of North-East Support Centre and Helpline in Delhi.

“All such victims face discrimination at home as well as workplace, apart from having to suffer lewd comments,” said Chandra, citing the example of the most sensational abduction-cum-gangrape of a 30-year-old call centre executive at Dhaula Kuan on November 24 last year

“In around 40 instances of crime against women in the past two years, the police refused to register a case when the victims approached them,” Chandra alleged. And the government’s assurances of relief and rehabilitation remained mere promises. “We approached the government many times seeking rehabilitation of the victims, but no steps were taken,” he said.

Initially, the victims try to cope with their trauma and agony and within a few months, they break down and leave the unforgiving city.

“Like the Dhaula Kuan rape victim, all others too from the contiguous Northeastern states known as Seven Sisters - Manipur, Meghalaya, Mizoram, Nagaland, Assam, Arunachal Pradesh and Sikkim - called it left after finding neither understanding nor support from neighbours and associates, said Chandra.

Changing residence and workplace makes it worse. The victims gradually get isolated. “Women from the Northeast feel very vulnerable here,” said Chandra.

According to figures provided by the Support Centre, of the total 63 cases of crime against women in last five years - including five rapes, five attempt to rape and 38 molestation cases - all ten victims of rape or attempt to rape returned home without fulfilling their dream of availing higher education or jobs.

Mamta Sharma, chairperson of National Commission for Women, said: “It is sad to know that rape victims had to leave the city. But they never approached us. We generally provide shelters, counselling and rehabilitation programmes for the victims.”

She admitted that victims of rape need a certain level of protection until they are capable of returning to normal life. “Whenever any kind of sexual harassment happens at the workplace, we generally approach the institution and initiate action against the culprits,” she claimed.

Harshita, Gungun and Manthan want to study but govt schools shun the disabled

Sumit Kumar Singh , New Delhi, Jan 7, DHNS:

‘I am not dead yet,’ their grandmother vows to get them admission one day

A lesser woman would have given up by now. For the last three years, 60-year-old Leela Devi has been struggling to get her three disabled grandchildren admitted to a government school, hoping to give them a better shot at life.

Their mother has left the family home – a one-room tenement in a slum in south Delhi’s Govindpuri. The grandparents and their son say she abandoned them because she didn’t care for the handicapped children.

Five-year-old Manthan can’t walk. Gungun, 8, has fits and a mental disability.

Harshita,12, too, is mentally challenged. The three can barely express themselves. And the government schools don’t appear keen to take on the challenge of having them.

Schools say they don’t have trained teachers to meet the needs of special children.

“I have knocked at the door of every organisation and school in the area but they are still shut for us,” says Leela Devi. 

After several attempts and with the help of an NGO, Leela Devi managed to get a Municipal Corporation of Delhi school at Kalkaji in south Delhi agree to admit Gungun.

But there are strings attached. The school wants her to stay with the child while she is on school premises. The school, Delhi Nagar Nigam Prathmik Balika Vidayalaya, made clear if the grandmother cannot stay back, Gungun should not be sent to school. Leela Devi says she has to take care of the other two children as well and if she remains with Gungun she wouldn’t be able to that. Her husband, Ramesh Lohia, takes on painting jobs, their son also hunts for small-time work.

Leela Devi says she wouldn't mind staying with Gungun if the other two are also admitted by the same school – so that she can keep an eye on all three together.

“I am ready to stay at the school the whole long day for my kids but the school is not ready to take them all, saying Harshita is too old and Manthan is too young.” It’s a primary school. “If all the three kids get admission in same school we both, husband and wife, will be there the entire day to take care of them,” Ramesh adds. “But no. They don’t want to give admission to our kids because they can’t speak clearly and they grasp things slowly.” Also, the school wants Gungun to attend only two days a week. Ashok Agarwal, an advocate and member of Social Jurist group, calls the case “plain mockery” of the Right To Education Act by the schools. “Every child whether differently-abled or not has the right to attain education and come to school everyday.”

“This implies that schools have failed to comply with basic rules. Unfortunately, there are no penal provisions under the RTE Act. But there should be one where you can hold the Department of Education and schools accountable for depriving children of basic education and violating child rights,” he says.

As the family talks with Deccan Herald, children from the slum are making their way to their schools. Harshita and Gungun tug at their grandmother, pointing at the luckier kids. Leela Devi takes Gungun in her arms.  “You all will go the school. I am not dead yet.”

G.B. Road – A world of its own

Just a minute drive from New Delhi Railway Station, three-storyed dilapidated buildings with fading paint was on one side of the road which carries a various flashy billboards that says -- G.B. Road, Shradhanand Marg. The street lights after few meters clearly shows that there is market which is closed during night.

The road was filled with speeding rickshaw pullers with two or one commuters. The rickshaw pullers fighting from other for pass. Whenever, a rickshaw stops near the one of these building – two to three men wearing black jackets and having deadly face approach them.

After a minute conversation, they then take them to dark corridors smeared with foul-smelling. As soon as they move, a few teenagers approach them and tries to sell something (condoms). These black jackets men shoo them away.

It was 11 p.m on Friday. The night was cold and foggy. I parked my bike between a few cars after crossing a police check post. As I took out the keys from my bike, two men from nowhere in no time were standing beside me. “Sahib kaisa chahiye (Sir what kind do you want),” said one of them, whose eyes were only visible as he had covered his face with a muffler to save himself from cold..
 
I was at Garstin Bastion (G.B.) Road -- the red light area – of the national capital and these two men who approached me were pimps -- dalals -- in the payroll of wealthier kothas. They were these for customers. I told them to come after ten minutes. But one of them threatened not to stand there. Police will catch you and throw out of the place. Come along with me. We will provide you whatever you want ... North Indian, South Indian, Foreigners, North East... Will also provide you whatever age ... 15, 16, 25, 35... will provide you everything. Will also provide you in whatever rate do you want,” said and put his hand on my shoulder and forcing me towards one a dark corridor. I resisted and asked them to leave.

Standing alone across the road where there is Indian Railways Coach Care Centre, I saw people in bike, cars, rickshaws and on feet coming and going inside the dark corridors with 'these men' to fulfill their carnal desires where bodies are sold for minimum of Rs 250.

Just to find how they operate and where are these khotas, I went towards these dark corridors. The shutters of the shops were closed and as I walked down, I witnesses a few aged women along with two to three these men – pimps -- sitting on a thin, dark staircase between the shops.

One of them, stopped me and asked me to come inside. I again resisted but then just to check out, I complied and entered into the stair and promised to pay them Rs 250. As I climbed, I saw five aged women sitting on the stairs. They asked me to shell out Rs 500. I told them I don't have. One of them, who was later identified as Manju , said give Rs 400 and get inside.

I was pushed inside the dark staircase and one of the aged women was acting as a guide. Then suddenly, there was light a bulb and a hall. One side of the hall was locked with huge iron grills. Women and men were sitting on a sofa and talking to each other. There was overbearing smell of inexpensive perfume, rancid body fluids and oil. A man opened lock and pulled me inside the hall and asked me to sit.

They inquired do I prefer liquor?. I said, “No.” One of them then went inside and called around five women and asked me to select one of them. Wearing blouse and petticoat with loud make up, the women were presented. All the eyes struck on me. There were smiles on their faces but behind that those smiles lies an untold tortured story.

Seeing them, I felt sorry and asked the man, who identified as Umesh, to open the lock and let me out the hall. He replied, “Why have you come here for wasting out our time during this peak business hour.” He opened the door and I with fast steps came climb down the dark staircase to the corridor where a few men were climbing up.

Out a three-storyed dilapidated building, I wondered how these 4000 women, confined in a four-by-six room, became emotionless, unthinking, mechanical sex workers.