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June 19, 2013
by Dipanjan
After the gangrape and murder in Kamduni village, some of us political activists and concerned individuals went to the village in solidarity with the protests of the villagers on 16th June. The following is just a short account of that…
I have never faced a family of a rape victim. So on our way from Madhyamgram station in Magic cars I was wondering what to say to the father or the brother of the raped girl whose femurs were broken before she was killed just 9 days back? Wouldn’t our words, even of sympathy, just seem superfluous to them? And how will the villagers take us, the people some of whom she had grown up with, played with, chatted with, and some days probably quarreled a little too, and to whom one day she returned in a body bag?
The village, when we reached, was not swarming with reporters or media vans. There were no ruling party or ex-ruling party politicians (some of whom are themselves tainted with accusations of sexual assault and abetment to it). The village was quiet, apart from a couple of reporters and a small theatre group from Kolkata.
Even quieter was the girl’s house. The father came to see us, the brothers too, all with dazed faces. There was little to say for us. The ritual expression of condolence was done too. After a few sentences, we headed out of the house slowly.
But Kamduni isn’t just a word for pain. It is a word for protest, Kamduni means a slap across the face of the state. This is the state that does not take any effective step in curbing the propensity towards sexual violence rampant in the society, rather it often uses sexual violence to silence the protesting voices of the people. The state wants to placate the people affected by rape with job offers and money – which is their way to soothe people’s anger. That is why the spontaneous outburst of anger is so important. They said a firm ‘NO’ to the money, they rejected the state trick to deny people justice. This I got an idea of by talking to others in the village. Some of them we met in their frontyards, some of them near the water tap, in front of the club, around the corner, in places where the touch of the girl probably still lingers. Some bits from those conversations:
“This is nothing new, it’s been happening since long,”
“No transport is available on this road. To get to school the children have to walk at least half an hour.”
“Hardly any street lamps here. We need more of them.”
“The girls are scared of going to school and college, how are they going to study?”
“We’ll see the end of it. We didn’t take the money, we didn’t take the job. We never will.”
“If Didi comes, she’s in for some serious words.”
“The wall around the rape spot must be brought down. That place is the den of antisocials. If the government doesn’t do it, we will.”
“Things like this have happened before. An old lady of this very neighbourhood got raped, but she took Rs.2000 from those criminals and didn’t go to the police. But that isn’t going to happen again.”
“We’ll wait till 18th. After that we’ll do what we have to.”
“We want the protests to spread everywhere. If you people do something in Kolkata, call us, we’ll all go.”
In the middle of it all we heard a different tune that is quite worrisome.
“We’re surrounded, people of a different religion are coming across borders, and our mothers and sisters are getting attacked by them.”
When asked why one would think so, we heard the previous sentence repeated – “we’re surrounded, people of a different religion…”. From the faces it could be understood that the words were taught to them, but have not been internalized yet. Our acquaintances there told us that Hindu Sanhati Mancha had held a gathering a couple of days back in Barasat. They were routinely campaigning in the village, distributing leaflets and putting up posters.
This is a serious danger. Our hope is riding on the spirit of the people of Kamduni which led them to reject compensation and will hopefully prove itself strong enough to resist such a tendency dangerous to people’s movements.
At the end, a rally took off. The rally started with around 40 of us ‘outsiders’ and ended in about 150 people united in their anger, condolence and protest. The villagers part of the rally called and brought the villagers standing by the side into the rally – “c’mon, you’ve got to rally!” This was an experience of a different flavor.
One thing I was wondering on my way back. What would have happened if we did this rally in Kamduni two months back? And that too on such a sensitive issue as rape? How does the scenario change with one incident and protests against it? How does a father living in financial destitution send a slap across the face of the state, rejecting a job offer and monetary ‘compensation’? Where does this strength come from? How do the people of Kamduni find the courage to stand up against power politics, even perhaps for the time being? Of course, there is more than one reason for it. But I think the Delhi incident of Damini and the nationwide protests against it is one of the reasons. And is this not how Delhi’s Damini and Kamduni’s Aparajita become one, even after their deaths?
18th July, 2013.
Dipanjan is an activist of Krantikari Naujawan Sabha, a student of Medical college, Kolkata.
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