The end.

This is in honour of the young woman who fought for her life, and is no longer with us. May she rest in peace knowing that thousands have relentlessly fought for her life, for her honour, for her rights, for her justice, and for the lives of all the others who attempt to live in this country. A country that we are ashamed to call our own. A country in desperate need for drastic change.

In early November, I had the good fortune of attending the THiNK 2012 festival in Goa – an initiative by tehelka – an annual event which began last year. It is a congregation of some of the most well-known and distinguished members of science, history, politics, and society. Each guest is invited to speak – or participate in a debate – before a rather large, seemingly erudite, and well-behaved audience.

I was there for three days, and listened intently to accounts by a physicist attempting to replicate the energy of the sun, social activists from Syria and Egypt who are wanted in their own countries, awkward politicians and businessmen – and some promising ones – discussing the possible future of our country, celebrities and authors baring intimate details about their private lives, gentle conservationalists exposing the true nature of the 'beasts' that live among us forcing us to question who the animal really is, and bright young individuals who are doing all they can to give back to society. All this made me wonder whether I want to remain in the shadows, or be a part of the change that I can see and feel all around me.

So when I received an invite on Facebook for a run at India Gate on Saturday, the 22nd of December, to show my support for the girl who was horrifically gang-raped by six men, I accepted – seeing this as my opportunity to be a part of the bigger picture. The incident had shaken up the country, and it only felt right to do something in her honour. 

I arrived at India Gate at about 7:30 am to find the place deserted, save an army of media trucks and cars. I assumed they were anticipating protestors in the vicinity (I was right). The other participants (in the run) were running from different locations, so I was the only one there. I did a few quick stretches, plugged in my headphones, and began my run, keeping this young woman in my thoughts.

An hour later, back at India Gate, I was met by a small group of protestors with placards walking around the structure, quietly chanting the words "we want justice". I stopped and watched, as did many others who happened to be there for their morning walks/bicycle rides/jogs. Within 30 minutes, the number of people had increased from about fifty to a hundred. Their voices had gotten louder, and several bystanders had joined the action. A group, comprising mostly of boys of about 20-25 years of age with printed posters saying "Hang the rapists", stood out as the loudest voices and the strongest leaders. 

I have never been one for mobs and protests. But a voice inside me told me that I must join these people, and soon I found myself amidst them – placard thrust in hand saying "death to the rapists" – walking around India Gate in circles (I am not personally in favour of the death penalty, but in situations like these, it seems the mob will go in whichever direction the strongest and loudest voice does. This is a delicate and dangerous situation to be in, if the loudest voice isn't also the most productive). Before I knew it I had begun repeatedly reciting the word "justice" whenever prompted with a "we want". An hour later, there wasn't much room around India gate for one to walk or stand, and the group I spoke of earlier, who had taken charge of this movement, announced that there was no point agitating here, as our voices would not be heard, and we must start walking towards Rashtrapati Bhavan so we can confront the politicians who owe us answers.

Marching away from India Gate and towards Raisina Hill

By now there must have been close to five hundred people present. It was about 10:00 am, the skies were clear and the sun shone bright on us. It was a warm December morning. Not a second passed by in silence. "Death to the rapists", "Ek do teen char, band karo yeh attyachar", "We want justice" were the most audible slogans riding the air in waves. A united sense of anger, of helplessness, of urgency for change, rang through so clearly, it made your hair stand on end. It was as if this telepathic emotion had brought everyone together, and there was beauty in the fact that this gathering was not organised, but rather a raw coming together of people who shared the same strong feelings.

I had been constantly shooting pictures on my phone, so my battery was low. It was too late to turn back now, I was in the thick of it. We reached North Bloc, which had been barricaded by the police. Some protestors had brought a DTC bus, and a tempo to the area and parked it right at the barricade – I wasn't sure what the purpose behind this was. People were flooding in by the second, and our protests got louder and louder. The police stood guard at the barricades, and we kept to our side. There was no violence, no aggression (well not physical), and some participants had taken charge of making sure that the level of aggression was kept at bay. The men present were addressing the women around them as "sister". Often I was gently told "sister could you please move aside" or "sister do sit down, there is no point in unnecessarily creating trouble, that is not our intention."

We want justice

And then came the water cannons. I believe it began after some men protesting began shaking the barricades. Most people were standing or sitting, shouting that they wanted justice, but I suppose some people (understandably) had begun to lose patience and faith in this "silent" protest, and decided to shake things up. True, there must have been over a thousand enraged people present, who, if turned unruly, would have been unstoppable by the 50 odd policemen stationed on the other side, and true, those men who had tried to breach the barricades probably shouldn't have, but those water cannons were uncalled for. I was standing very close to the barricade at that point, and as soon as I felt the spray of water I ran back, as did several others, afraid that my phone would get soaked. Almost instantly, there was an uproar in the crowd. People were even more charged up and ran towards the cannon. Some men bore their chests rather dramatically and many women stood defiantly in the line of the spray, undeterred by its force. The voices had become louder, and chaos had set in.

The first of the water cannons is set off

In the line of fire

People who had been standing in the distance rushed forward to be a part of these recent developments, and the second water cannon was set upon us. I stayed close, so I could get some good photos. Some men from the media had stationed themselves upon a higher platform, right under the spray, so they could get themselves dramatic photographs. I saw them and thought to myself that I wouldn't mind being there too. This was history in the making, and there is something infectious about being in a crowd fighting for justice, particularly if you share the same sentiments as them. A lot of the people present were not entirely sure why they were there (myself included). They could not explain what they wanted or what they were fighting for. But I don't think they needed to. It felt right to be there. It felt like the natural thing to do, standing up for a girl battling for her life, after those animals (in fact, it is inappropriate to call them animals, as animals are far gentler than these monsters) had tried to literally extract the life out of her.

It was unfortunate to see the disconnect between the police and the rest of us. Had I been a policewoman, in all honesty, I would have turned around and joined the public. After all, are they not human too? Did they not feel disgust at the recent aberration, and the need to question the law-makers, the so-called 'powers to be', as to how they can help make this country habitable, I wondered. Is that not why they joined the police in the first place? Surely corruption, greed, and twisted minds are still the exception and not the norm. These police personnel, they seemed afraid, and at some point I even felt sorry for them, thinking that if I had been in their place I would have felt quite upset at having thousands of young men and women take their anger out on me, when I hadn't quite done anything wrong. When I hadn't done anything at all, in fact. But it was too late to feel sorry. This pent-up anger had to be released, and I was glad to bear witness to it.

Dazed and confused

The crowd continued to hurl insults at the government. Ironically, I overheard a group of young girls speaking to a woman from a TV channel saying "police wale ne choodi pehen rakhi hai", implying that the cops are acting like women, attacking us with tear gas and water cannons because they are afraid and cannot even handle an angry mob intelligently (unfortunately they did not realise how this comment backfired).

The tear gas begins

I did not quite understand the need for those tear gas shells. They came unexpectedly, just like the water cannons, but with a much deeper and scarier impact. They make a rather loud noise (which caused me to almost drop my phone while taking a photo) and the fumes sting your eyes and the area around them, and go up your nose and down your throat, making it very hard to see or breathe. Let me remind you that most of the people present at this gathering were people like you and me. They had received news of the protests, and had decided to join forces, along with a few friends, to show their support. There were school girls and boys not older than 15 years of age, in their uniforms. There were respectable older ladies between the age of 50 and 80. There were boys in sweatshirts and jeans carrying backpacks, probably on their way to college/school, and girls in skinny jeans, Zara blouses, and ballerina shoes. These were no terrorists, and they should not have been treated like they were. Once the tear gas shells began (at least 7 while I was still around, till about 12:30 pm), many of us began to retreat. Many of the younger girls had to be sent away, as this was a dangerous situation to be in. This meant that now the crowd comprised mostly of men, and many fiery women, who could withstand the tear gas, and who were also much more violent and aggressive. The attacks on them did not help in keeping them calm, in fact quite the opposite.

At this point, my phone was almost dead, I was exhausted, had run out of water, my eyes were burning, and shoes and socks were wet. I realised that it was only going to get more violent from this point on, and, considering I was there all alone, I thought it was best for me to leave. I went ahead to get a few more shots before I left, and left the scene hoping that things would stay peaceful, and that women would have their say. The next day, sadly, it turned out that a few hooligans had taken advantage of this violent turn of events, throwing stones, burning things, breaking windows, and even molesting women.

Us v/s them. That is not how it should be.

We cannot afford to blame only a few people for what has been taking place, and rapidly worsening over the past fifty years. Two policemen were suspended yesterday after a 17 year old girl committed suicide because she had been tormented and threatened, not only by her rapists, but by the police. Who will replace these men? Will they miraculously find two other men who have the utmost respect for women? Over the past few days, several politicians have been exposed for their ridiculously misogynistic comments. Well I shan't take names, but I am acquainted with a few people, specifically women, whose immediate response to the gang-rape in Delhi was: "Is she stupid taking a bus at night. Aren't there autos. Just because she had a boy with her did she think she was invincible". If a bus is not to be travelled in, then what is its purpose exactly? The same people who are shocked that one would take a bus in this country, will gladly get into a bus in any other country. Have they once stopped to think about why they are able to do so? I have heard many educated people say "well she was drunk and wearing a terribly short dress. She should have known better". It makes me sick that they are so convinced about how right they are.

We want to be able to take buses at night. We want to wear short skirts and long jackets. We want to have boyfriends, smoke cigarettes on the streets, wear false eyelashes, wear low-cut blouses, get drunk. And all this without being called prostitutes at the end of the day. But how?

There is hope. When I lived in Ahmedabad, we would walk on the bridge, only us girls, at midnight. We went out to take photographs unaccompanied by men, even in the old city. We wore short denim shorts and spaghetti tops with our colourful bra-straps showing and took autos to eat lunch at Subway. We never thought we were being vulgar or obscene. We dealt with boot-leggers, only us girls. I am certainly not saying that the city is devoid of perverts and molestors and rapists and murderers, I am sure it has its share. But surely there is a difference in the attitude towards women? I only learned to be afraid when I moved to Delhi. I was constantly being scolded by friends for travelling alone late at night, and now I do the same to new-comers in the city. Living in fear and caution has become the only way to live here. I cannot speak for other cities, as I have not spent enough time in any of them (other than my hometown Dehradun, where I have never really ventured out without my parents, but it certainly feels safe – I can wear clothes that I feel conscious to wear in Delhi here).

But one thing I am hopeful of – that we are at the brink of change. We are change. In one way or another, we must feel proud to be a part of this change.

There is still hope. I hope.