Dehradun-based Sulekha Mahipal, 25, was sexually molested as a child and gang-raped by five men when she was barely out of her teens. But Sulekha refused to accept the humiliation. She tells Anindita Ghosh how she took her rapists to court and rebuilt her life
Sulekha opens the door with a wide, welcoming smile and it's easy to see why she's so popular at Samadhan, an NGO for troubled women in Dehradun, where she works as a counsellor. She laughs uproariously when I complain about my husband and blushes while talking about her fiancé. It's difficult to imagine that beneath the cheerful veneer, Sulekha hides a story that spans years of abuse, murder and betrayal. Some of the things she tells me make my skin crawl. But the one thing that Sulekha won't let me feel for her is pity. Because she hasn't given up on the Indian judiciary and knows that one day she's going to see her rapists behind bars.
Sulekha is now a student of law at a private college in Dehradun and a counsellor with Samadhan's Dalit Women's helpline. Feisty and strong, she displays no misplaced guilt or shame, has no qualms about being photographed and telling the world what she went through. Sulekha refuses to be punished for being a victim. "If I hadn't found Samadhan, my life would be very different. I'm thankful that I was given the chance to reshape my destiny."
Home truths
Born to sweeper parents, Sulekha learnt early on that she couldn't trust her father. Her childhood memories consist mostly of bitter fights and her father mercilessly beating up her mother. "My father was having an affair with a widow. He wanted to throw my mother, me and my brothers out of the house and live with her. When I was 13, I woke up one morning to see my father and his lover forcing poison down my mother's throat. She died in two hours and all I could do was watch in mute horror as she writhed in pain. My father told everyone that she committed suicide and I was too scared to tell anyone the truth." A month later, Sulekha's father and his lover got married. Soon after that, Sulekha was sent away to her maternal grandparents' house in Bhiwani, Haryana. "Frankly, I was relieved to get away. In my mind, I was an orphan since the day my mother died."
Bad education
Sadly, moving to her grandparents' house did not help to alleviate the trauma that young Sulekha had gone through. "Nightmares were a part of life. I constantly woke up to the scene of my mother's death playing in my head," Sulekha says. She attended school but found it very difficult to cope. Her grandparents hired a tutor to help Sulekha focus on her studies. But things took a horrible turn when her tutor, an elderly man, started molesting her. The abuse continued until Sulekha graduated from school.
I ask her why she never said a thing in all the years of abuse. "I get that a lot. But you don't understand what the situation is like in villages and small towns. Initially, all I felt was shock. I didn't know what was happening to me. All I knew was that it didn't feel right," Sulekha explains. "Complaining was not an option because I knew there was no one to support me. I was not the only one. Girls are regularly exploited by village elders, uncles, cousins and neighbours. It's almost a rite of passage when you reach puberty.
But no one says a word. It's easier to pretend that these things don't happen. Besides, after the experience with my father, I decided it was best not to trust anyone."
The trap
After she finished school, Sulekha returned to Dehradun and with nowhere else to go, she was forced to live with her father and stepmother. "I was helpless. My two younger brothers still lived with them. I had to be civil to them for my brothers' sake. I asked my cousin to help me find a job, so I'd have a reason to stay out of the house as much as possible."
On the morning of April 19, 2008, Sulekha's cousin told her that he'd gotten her an interview with a government official and took her to a resort for the interview. At the resort, Sulekha was offered a drink that made her feel sick. "Everything after that happened in a haze. But I remember being taken to a room, thrown on the bed, stripped and raped. Once the 'government official' had had his fun, four more raped me as I lay there, drugged and semi-paralysed. My cousin was one of them. Worse, it was all videotaped. I was bleeding, in excruciating pain and numb with shock."
When Sulekha was finally taken home, she was bruised and battered, but again, she didn't say a word, sure that she'd be thrown out of the house if she told her father what had happened. "For one week I could not get out of bed due to a severe infection. My cousin told me that if I didn't work with him as a sex worker, he would expose me. I was vulnerable, scared and had no one to talk to," Sulekha says. "A month later, when I was able to walk again, I saw no option but to agree to his demands."
Unexpected luck
Sulekha soon discovered that her cousin was a pimp with high-profi le clients, many of who were politicians. "My cousin enrolled me for a seven-day course with a Dehradun-based NGO so I could get out of home at night. The NGO was Samadhan." While waiting at the training centre on the first day, Sulekha saw a helpline number for distressed women. "For the first time, I saw a ray of hope." But the real breakthrough happened when Sulekha shared her story for the first time. "I told my roommate what was happening during a confidence-building session. She advised me to speak to Samadhan's founder, advocate Renu Singh."
The long legal battle When Sulekha approached Renu, she helped Sulekha register her case with Samadhan's legal cell and took her to the Director General (DG) of Police, who ordered the Senior Superintendent of Police (SSP) to fi le an FIR against the rapists immediately. But that was the start of another ordeal. The police realised that lodging the FIR had opened a can of worms as pressure mounted on them to bury the case, while investigations proved that politicians from a leading party were involved. But Sulekha refused to be cowed down. "When we refused to take back the FIR, the entire state machinery started working against me and Samadhan. Renuji gave me shelter in her own house, but she was harassed too. It was as if we were surrounded by corrupt media, police, bureaucrats and ministers."
Waiting for justice
After 16 months of apathy, Renu swallowed sleeping pills to protest the harassment. After that incident, things finally started moving. "After 18 months I was asked to appear in court for the first hearing. Though the case is being tried in a fast-track court, it is still a very slow and tedious process. The courts aren't women-friendly at all and I had to face a lot of humiliation during the trial. But every bit of the humiliation will be worth it if those men are put behind bars."
Moving out, on
Sulekha moved out of her father's house and started living at Samadhan's centre soon after she filed the FIR. And although there's no love lost between Sulekha and her father, they're still in touch. "I know it's shocking. But it's very normal in our part of the country. I talk to my father for my brothers' sake. They still live with him," she says. Sulekha is now engaged to an MBA student and the two will tie the knot soon. The couple intends to fight the case till Sulekha's rapists are punished.
Sulekha is now a student of law at a private college in Dehradun and a counsellor with Samadhan's Dalit Women's helpline. Feisty and strong, she displays no misplaced guilt or shame, has no qualms about being photographed and telling the world what she went through. Sulekha refuses to be punished for being a victim. "If I hadn't found Samadhan, my life would be very different. I'm thankful that I was given the chance to reshape my destiny."
Home truths
Born to sweeper parents, Sulekha learnt early on that she couldn't trust her father. Her childhood memories consist mostly of bitter fights and her father mercilessly beating up her mother. "My father was having an affair with a widow. He wanted to throw my mother, me and my brothers out of the house and live with her. When I was 13, I woke up one morning to see my father and his lover forcing poison down my mother's throat. She died in two hours and all I could do was watch in mute horror as she writhed in pain. My father told everyone that she committed suicide and I was too scared to tell anyone the truth." A month later, Sulekha's father and his lover got married. Soon after that, Sulekha was sent away to her maternal grandparents' house in Bhiwani, Haryana. "Frankly, I was relieved to get away. In my mind, I was an orphan since the day my mother died."
Bad education
Sadly, moving to her grandparents' house did not help to alleviate the trauma that young Sulekha had gone through. "Nightmares were a part of life. I constantly woke up to the scene of my mother's death playing in my head," Sulekha says. She attended school but found it very difficult to cope. Her grandparents hired a tutor to help Sulekha focus on her studies. But things took a horrible turn when her tutor, an elderly man, started molesting her. The abuse continued until Sulekha graduated from school.
I ask her why she never said a thing in all the years of abuse. "I get that a lot. But you don't understand what the situation is like in villages and small towns. Initially, all I felt was shock. I didn't know what was happening to me. All I knew was that it didn't feel right," Sulekha explains. "Complaining was not an option because I knew there was no one to support me. I was not the only one. Girls are regularly exploited by village elders, uncles, cousins and neighbours. It's almost a rite of passage when you reach puberty.
But no one says a word. It's easier to pretend that these things don't happen. Besides, after the experience with my father, I decided it was best not to trust anyone."
The trap
After she finished school, Sulekha returned to Dehradun and with nowhere else to go, she was forced to live with her father and stepmother. "I was helpless. My two younger brothers still lived with them. I had to be civil to them for my brothers' sake. I asked my cousin to help me find a job, so I'd have a reason to stay out of the house as much as possible."
On the morning of April 19, 2008, Sulekha's cousin told her that he'd gotten her an interview with a government official and took her to a resort for the interview. At the resort, Sulekha was offered a drink that made her feel sick. "Everything after that happened in a haze. But I remember being taken to a room, thrown on the bed, stripped and raped. Once the 'government official' had had his fun, four more raped me as I lay there, drugged and semi-paralysed. My cousin was one of them. Worse, it was all videotaped. I was bleeding, in excruciating pain and numb with shock."
When Sulekha was finally taken home, she was bruised and battered, but again, she didn't say a word, sure that she'd be thrown out of the house if she told her father what had happened. "For one week I could not get out of bed due to a severe infection. My cousin told me that if I didn't work with him as a sex worker, he would expose me. I was vulnerable, scared and had no one to talk to," Sulekha says. "A month later, when I was able to walk again, I saw no option but to agree to his demands."
Unexpected luck
Sulekha soon discovered that her cousin was a pimp with high-profi le clients, many of who were politicians. "My cousin enrolled me for a seven-day course with a Dehradun-based NGO so I could get out of home at night. The NGO was Samadhan." While waiting at the training centre on the first day, Sulekha saw a helpline number for distressed women. "For the first time, I saw a ray of hope." But the real breakthrough happened when Sulekha shared her story for the first time. "I told my roommate what was happening during a confidence-building session. She advised me to speak to Samadhan's founder, advocate Renu Singh."
The long legal battle When Sulekha approached Renu, she helped Sulekha register her case with Samadhan's legal cell and took her to the Director General (DG) of Police, who ordered the Senior Superintendent of Police (SSP) to fi le an FIR against the rapists immediately. But that was the start of another ordeal. The police realised that lodging the FIR had opened a can of worms as pressure mounted on them to bury the case, while investigations proved that politicians from a leading party were involved. But Sulekha refused to be cowed down. "When we refused to take back the FIR, the entire state machinery started working against me and Samadhan. Renuji gave me shelter in her own house, but she was harassed too. It was as if we were surrounded by corrupt media, police, bureaucrats and ministers."
Waiting for justice
After 16 months of apathy, Renu swallowed sleeping pills to protest the harassment. After that incident, things finally started moving. "After 18 months I was asked to appear in court for the first hearing. Though the case is being tried in a fast-track court, it is still a very slow and tedious process. The courts aren't women-friendly at all and I had to face a lot of humiliation during the trial. But every bit of the humiliation will be worth it if those men are put behind bars."
Moving out, on
Sulekha moved out of her father's house and started living at Samadhan's centre soon after she filed the FIR. And although there's no love lost between Sulekha and her father, they're still in touch. "I know it's shocking. But it's very normal in our part of the country. I talk to my father for my brothers' sake. They still live with him," she says. Sulekha is now engaged to an MBA student and the two will tie the knot soon. The couple intends to fight the case till Sulekha's rapists are punished.
WHY EMPATHY HELPS "Victims are best equipped to counsel other victims of rape because they can empathise with them. Most victims suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Due to PTSD, most victims develop the fear of not being understood. When victims find out that their counsellors have shared a similar experience, they feel accepted and find it easier to talk to them. This helps them deal with their trauma better", says clinical psychologist, Seema Hingorrany |
COURTSEY: Femina
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