It must have been 2012 when I interviewed a woman who had been raped in her village. Minutes into our conversation, I realised I was wrong to make her recount the events of the day she was raped and I attempted to change the topic. All the while, Lata (name changed) vigorously tore off leaves from a thatched parapet.
Lata died a few years later.
A woman died a brutal death in Tamil Nadu while O Panneerselvam and Sasikala Natarajan fought bitterly for power. Neena (name changed), from Ariyalur, was raped and burnt to death. The six-month-old foetus in her womb was ripped out and thrown into a well. The story went unnoticed. Nobody seemed to care.
Very few activists – like lawyer Dhamayanthi Kanimozhi – fought for Neena, whose death came to light in the days after the Jallikattu agitation had died down. While the right to practise the traditional bull-taming sport was manipulated into a fight for Tamil identity, there was nothing, not even a whisper, about her death.
According to data from the National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB), a woman in India is raped every 20 minutes. Tamil Nadu is full of such horror stories. Just weeks after Neena’s death came news of the kidnap, sexual assault and murder of a 7-year-old child in Chennai by a 22-year-old man. The girl’s half-burnt body was found inside a bag, five days after she went missing from her apartment complex.
The parents of the 22-year-old accused said that their son was depressed. I have been fighting depression – brought on by domestic violence and marital rape – for over 15 years now. Like most people, the parents of the accused do not understand depression. “Snap out of it,” they all say, assuming that it is nothing but a phase. In this case, however, do I really need to point out the problem with attributing a sexual crime to depression?
While news of the 7-year-old child’s death made the rounds, a three-year-old was sexually assaulted and murdered. The female perpetrator fled after throwing the toddler’s body into a pile of garbage, but not before stripping it of the jewellery the child was wearing at the time of the crime.
According to criminal records from 2013, Tamil Nadu accounts for 2.41 percent of the total crime in India. The state government often claims that crimes against women in the state are low, and cites this particular statistic while doing so.
So far, there is absolutely no dialogue or an effort thereof from the government on why and how such things happen. Sexual perversion is brushed under the carpet and silenced, as are the crimes that they often culminate in. It ends with offering monetary compensation to a family. Just take the money and move on, they are told.
The Kerala actress’ molestation in a moving car shed light on how the society views crimes against women. Social media continues to hunt for footage, clippings or photos of the act.
The actress’ name is being thrown around, chants against her character are gathering steam. And the impingement into a very personal agony is being carried out by anybody with a smartphone. No one is a Peeping Tom. They’re all sharing it as a social obligation, or so they claim.
After four women were raped by the police in Tirukovilur, one of them angrily asked me: “Why do you need me to speak? Why not try to photograph the policeman’s face?”
I hunted for over a week, for a single photo. I found none.
K Chandru, social activist, and former judge says;
As we scream slogans on Marina Beach, with creatively worded placards and candles, are we deliberately choosing to drown out the screams of women around us?
(The writer is a lyricist, poet and author. This is an opinion piece and the views expressed above are the author’s own. The Quint neither endorses nor is responsible for the same.)