Not in our name
During the test ID parade, the victims had to come face to face with the accused
The latest Amul ad says it all. A male public prosecutor on one side, a woman judge on the other, and the endearing Amul girl imploring with folded hands to the judge — “Mete it out fairly!” — while the caption blares Insaaf shakti se mila! This ad accurately captures our sentiments.
Even while demanding state accountability and prompt and stringent action, we have stood firmly against the death penalty. Rape is not murder and a woman who is raped is not a zinda laash. Even when committed by the accused more than once, rape cannot be termed as the “rarest of rare” offence. If rape is equated with murder, more women will be killed after they are raped. The death penalty is medieval and barbaric, not a sign of a civilised society. Do not award it in our name.
After the gruesome gangrape of a paramedic student in Delhi in December 2012, the protesters had demanded death penalty. That case resulted in the death penalty, not because a stringent law was enacted subsequently, but because it was a heinous crime — of rape, brutality and murder — invoking the “rarest of rare” title.
Though the women’s movement and the Verma Committee report did not recommend the death penalty, this provision has been made part of the amended law, but still remains within the scope of “rarest of rare”. But it can be invoked as and when public sentiments so demand as in the Shakti Mills rape cases.
When faced with this challenge, no stone can be left unturned. So the trials were “showpiece” cases for the state. The criminals were arrested without delay. The statements of victims were detailed. The forensic reports nailed the accused. The charge-sheets were filed within a month. A highly connected special public prosecutor was appointed. Everything was worked out to the minutest detail, except protection of the survivors.
The women, a 22-year-old from a middle-class background, an intern with a media group, referred to as the photo-journalist; the other, even younger, barely 18, a school dropout, from the lower strata, referred to as the telephone operator (a misnomer), both daughters of single mothers, struggling to make ends meet.
Though the trials were “in camera”, regular briefings ensured that the momentum of public curiosity was not reduced. The crescendo had risen to such an extent that, as support persons, we had to urge the police to provide them with additional security, so that their privacy is protected. Though the Maharashtra government had abolished the degrading “two finger test”, the telephone operator was subjected to it, though it had no relevance as it was done a month after the incident. The irony, the protocols were drafted under the guidance of the civil surgeon of the JJ Group of Hospitals along with senior officers of the state public health department in May 2013, four months before this incident and doctors had undergone training regarding these protocols. As the judgement has rightly pointed out, the tests had no relevance to the case at hand. This only goes to show that framing the most ideal guidelines is easy. Ensuring that they are followed is the challenge.
During the test ID parade, the victims had to come face to face with the accused. They were asked not only to point a finger but also to touch the accused to identify them, within a few days of the traumatic incident. The facility of identification by video-conferencing was not used. Despite the media glare, the facility of recording evidence by video-conferencing was also not availed despite our urging. So the women were asked to appear in court in person.
While the two survivors continued to go through their ordeal, there was no one to answer their doubts and fears and be with them in their moments of anxiety and panic. That was left to the NGO do-gooders. It was not a state responsibility. What is even worse, no call was made to the 18-year-old, a non-English speaking woman, when her case ended in conviction. And anyway her “use” for the case was over and it was the moment for the state to bask in the glory of the conviction. And to make history, by urging the court to add the charge meant for repeat offenders, under Section 376E, which warrants the death penalty.
This section was added for those offenders who are beyond redemption, who commit the same offence after conviction. But the wordings, “previous” and “subsequent” were interpreted to mean that it could be applied even when the trials have gone parallel and the conviction just a few minutes apart. This is a dangerous trend which would rob the death penalty of its premise of “rarest of rare”. This is not what we bargained for, when we demanded a change in law. Restoration of dignity and care and protection was to be the new mantra, in addition to financial and other support to enable rehabilitation. None of this was available, even in a high-profile case.