Nirbhaya Again
The two girls seemed to be stranded. Their scooter had broken down at exactly the wrong time of the night on the wrong stretch of the road. It was late, the night was dark and the road lonely. They intermittently paused to look up and down the road nervously, and peered into the heavy bushes on the side of the road, as they pushed the heavy two-wheeler very slowly, struggling against its weight.
Finally, they saw headlights in the distance coming in their direction. Instantly, they moved the vehicle to the side of the road, put it on its stand and ventured further onto the road. They started waving their arms, calling out frantically, though they knew the driver wouldn’t hear them. The oncoming vehicle was a mini-bus and it paused as it passed, but didn’t stop. The girls continued waving after it. Suddenly, the bus screeched to a halt, pausing, but as the girls moved towards it, it started moving forward again as though the driver had changed his mind. The women stopped going towards it, but the van had also stopped again. It looked as if the driver was in two minds or was discussing it with somebody inside. Finally, the yellow reverse light came on, and the vehicle started moving back towards the girls.
What a relief! The girls started trotting towards the bus. It stopped as it reached the girls and the door opened. The girls couldn’t see inside, but they could see the driver looking at them. A slim-looking man came to the door and stood on the steps. The girls could barely see his face in the dark. The girls rushed to explain. Their scooter had broken down, and could they be dropped off where they could find an auto or call for a cab? Please, please. Their phones weren’t catching the network signal in this place.
The man on the steps looked back at the driver and asked him if it was all right. The girls were trying to peer inside, but the man was in the way and in any case, there were no lights on inside the bus. The girls glanced at the windows but it was too dark and they could see nothing. But they really had no option, it seemed. At least they would get out of this stretch of road and get to where there were more streetlights and traffic. They said they would send a mechanic to pick up their scooter the next day.
Finally, the man on the steps nodded and stepped back to allow them to get in. The girls looked at each other, seeming to hesitate. “Quickly, quickly!” the man said, “It is getting late for us!”. With a shrug of helplessness, one of the girls stepped up the stairs followed by the other. They still couldn’t see inside the bus. The door closed and the driver gunned the engine and the bus started moving quickly.
Inside the bus, the girls moved to the first seat on the left of the bus, but the conductor, or whoever he was, told them to move back. The front seat was his. Quickly, the girls made their way to the middle of the bus on the same side, four rows down. The bus was stinking of diesel or petrol, stale food and sweat.
The road was deserted and the bus was moving rapidly now. The girls sat, quiet and tense, gripping the back bar of the seat in front tightly, watching the conductor and driver intently. Just a few minutes later, the bus started slowing down. Almost immediately, the girls reacted, sitting erect now in their seats. Suddenly, the driver glanced back at the conductor and they exchanged an imperceptible nod. The bus lurched forward and turned onto a dark, dirt road on the left.
The girls leapt up in unison, trying to hold on as the bus sped along the bumpy road, shouting at the driver and conductor, “Where are you going? Why did you turn? What are you doing?”. The conductor also jumped up and rushed towards their seat. Almost immediately, there was some noise at the back as three more men got up from behind their seats where they had been crouching.
Pandemonium ensued, the girls screaming, the men shouting as they rushed toward the girls. “Shut up! Shut up!” one or two of them shouted, while the others abused the girls loudly. In a flash, they had surrounded the girls. One of the men reached out and roughly pushed one of the girls down by her shoulder. Another reached for the other girl’s hair and pulled her down from behind.
The conductor, who seemed to be the ring leader, came and kneeled on the seat in front of the girls, staring at them. He bent forward suddenly towards the girl near the window, pushing his face close to hers, grabbing her chin in his right hand and pulling her close, as though he was going to kiss her. The girl tried to jerk away as his putrid breath hit her, but his grip on her chin was too tight and painful. “Shut up, bitch, shut up and keep quiet, otherwise I will beat you so much that..…”. He let go of her chin suddenly and raised his fist as though he was going to punch her. The girl reeled back in her seat and the other men guffawed, abusing the girl. One man was standing close to the other girl sitting on the aisle seat, his crotch rubbing against her shoulder, the bumpy bus helping his movement. His right hand was twitching, eager to reach for the girl as she tried to shrink and move away from him.
The driver was looking back again and again, obviously wanting to join the action. He reached for one of the switches and a dim light came on. He could see better now. The conductor was looking at the girl in the aisle seat now. He reached out as the girl drew back but she was trapped by the other man’s crotch. The man was getting an erection now and the girl made as if to retch, sobbing at the same time.
The conductor reached out for her, staring at her breasts. Both the girls were just wearing loose trousers and tops, so they didn’t even have the flimsy protection of a ‘pallu’. He was drooling. She was pretty and her breasts were nice, he thought; he would have her first. His hand flashed and he slapped her hard. The girl jerked back, stunned, her head hitting the man standing beside her right in the crotch. He let out a small yell and reached for his fly while the others roared with laughter. “Bloody bitch!” he shouted, his hand reaching out for the girl’s breast and painfully squeezing it. The girl gasped and tried to get up, but the conductor had bent down, his hands grasping her shoulders, pushing her back into her seat. The girl was sobbing now, muttering something, pleading with the men to stop. But the men were fully turned on now, one or two of them even rubbing themselves. The conductor brushed her breast as he reached for her neck with his right hand and started squeezing it, pushing her head back as she gasped for breath. He kept his hand on her and said, “Chotu! Take this bitch to the back of the bus, I am coming there!”. His left hand was on his crotch. A man, more like a young boy, stepped up to the girl. He grabbed the girl by her arm and pulled.
The girl screamed, sobbing, “Stop it! Stop it, please! Leave us, let us go!” but the boy pulled her roughly to her feet. The girl turned to her partner, trying to hold on to her arm, but the boy was too strong. He started dragging her towards the back as she cried and tried to resist. The conductor slid from the seat and another man took his place, kneeling on the seat, facing the girl by the window. The man who had been standing by the aisle seat immediately sat down next to her, staring at her, his right hand reaching out for her breasts and his left hand rubbing himself.
The young boy had taken the other girl to one of the seats in the back but she got up again, trying to get back to her friend. The boy just about managed to stop her, in the process hugging her, quickly grinding himself against her as she struggled. The conductor pulled him back roughly by the collar. “Go to the front, bastard, don’t touch her, she’s mine!”
The driver had slowed down the bus now. He was looking back, just occasionally glancing at the road in the dim headlights.
The conductor was facing the girl in the back of the bus, his legs spread, trying to balance himself as the bus lurched and bumped on the mud road. The girl was cowering, trying to get away from him, but not wanting to fall, balancing herself too. He approached, grinning evilly. “What is your name, bitch! What should I call you when I f$$k you?! Come here, darling, come to me, tell me your name!” he said, moving towards her.
The girl straightened up suddenly. She was almost as tall as him.
“Nirbhaya!” she said loudly. By the time he could even finish repeating her name, her right leg struck out like lightning, hitting him between his legs, right in his crotch. “Nirbhaya!” she screamed, “Nirbhaya!”.
As she shouted the name for the first time, the men in the front turned to look back, startled. As if on cue, the girl by the window unwound like a coiled spring. She straightened her back, and at the same time as her right elbow smashed with deadly power into the nose of the man sitting beside her, her left hand flew out like a rocket, her fingers coiled, hitting the man in front on his Adam’s Apple. Both men screamed in pain and fell forward, one man clutching his throat, while the man beside her bent forward, blood streaming from his broken nose.
At the back of the bus, the conductor grabbed his crotch and fell forward towards the girl, screaming in pain. Her knee came up, thudding with terrible force against his chin, jerking him back, sending him reeling as the bus hit a bump. He fell on his back and the girl pounced on him, her right foot going up and then down, her heel plunging into his solar plexus like a pile driver.
The girl in the front had jumped up from her seat, her right hand coming down in a karate chop on the back of the neck of the man beside her as he bent down holding his nose. As the man in front lurched forward, her right fist slammed into his face with terrible force as his jawbone broke and a horrible scream came from him.
The driver was staring back in shock at the mayhem. He had hit the brake involuntarily, and the bus came to a halt. The young boy was just stirring himself, stunned by what he had seen, and he moved towards the girl at the back as she advanced.
The driver came to his senses and jumped from his seat, wanting to join the melee. If he had paused to look out of the window, he would have seen a scooter stop by the bus. Similarly, if he had glanced at his side mirror after the girls had been first picked up, he would have seen two figures emerging from the bushes near the stranded two-wheeler, start the vehicle without a problem and slowly start following the min-bus without switching on the headlights.
Suddenly, the door of the bus flew open and two women entered. The driver stood no chance. The first woman who came up the stairs went at him like a rocket ball. Thickset and heavy, her shoulder drove into his midriff like a giant fist. He doubled up and almost went down, but the woman grabbed him, straightened him up and slapped him so hard that his head hit the side of the driver’s cabin and he just collapsed like a sack.
The young boy was totally stunned. He couldn’t keep his eyes on the girl in the back or the girl in the front, or the woman near the entrance. His eyes were like saucers and his head was turning in all directions at the same time, looking at his boss on the floor, moaning and crying in pain. It looked as if he would just fall right there and collapse, and he did so in a moment, just sitting down with a thud on the seat next to him. His shoulders slumped, and his head dropped, as the fight went out of him and he went into shock. The girl at the back looked at him once and knew that he was not a threat anymore.
It had taken just over a minute and the fight was over. The fourth woman had not even had to join the fight. She now jumped over into the driver’s seat and started the bus.
The heavyset woman started dragging the men to one spot. The girl who had been taken to the back stared at the conductor. Her right leg moved minutely as she controlled the urge to kick the conductor again. She snapped her fingers at the young boy and he followed her gesture like a dog. She made him sit on the conductor’s chest.
The bus wound its way along the road and then turned onto another dirt road until it reached a small forest. The driver steered the bus expertly into a clearing deep among the trees, stopped, got off the bus and came to the door on the other side.
The men had to drag themselves off the bus as the women watched them like hawks. As they all bunched up together, the thickset lady took charge. She seemed to be the leader of the pack. Quickly, like a well-rehearsed drill, the women took out handcuffs from the scooter’s storage compartment and cuffed the men to each other.
“Drop your pants!”, the leader said softly, and as the men stirred and stared at her in shock, she approached them and her voice rang out, “Drop your fu$$ing pants!”. The men fell back but made no move to comply. The leader’s right hand shot out and the bottom of her palm hit the nearest man, the driver, on the left jaw. He staggered and almost fell, dragging the others with him. “The next man gets it in the crotch!” the leader said. Rapidly, the men started unbuttoning their dirty pants or untying their pyjamas and dropping them to the floor. They were now immobilised and couldn’t run without getting their pants into a tangle.
The woman gestured to one of the girls. The girl went behind a bush and brought out what was obviously a torch, a thick stick with some cloth wrapped around one end. She opened the petrol tank door of the scooter and dipped the stick into it. She took it out and quickly lit it with a lighter. The torch was now lit and burning strongly. She handed it over to the leader.
The leader turned to the men. “You will now all be taught a lesson. You will never ever think of touching a woman and even if you do, you will never be able to do anything! You bastards! You dirty filthy fu$$ing bastards! Your time is over! We are going to burn your junk so badly that you will never be men again!”. So saying, the leader advanced towards the men, flaming torch in hand.
The men screamed in terror. They fell back, tripping over and under each other in their handcuffs and their pants around their feet. They fell badly, their shirts riding up, exposing them further to the oncoming leader’s torch. They started weeping and sobbing, crying like the cowards and bullies they were, their manhood now in mortal danger of being burnt to ashes.
The conductor was the first to try to get up but only to kneel on the ground, which then all the men did, grovelling, begging for mercy from the women. The leader swung the torch close to their thighs, and every time she did, they screamed in abject terror and begged and cried, pleading for mercy.
The leader finally relented and stopped after some time. By then, the men were no longer the men they had been. They had become terror-stricken, snivelling pale images of manhood.
They were then piled on the bus in their half-undressed state. A board hung around each of their necks like a nameplate. It said, “Sex offender!’. A final warning was delivered. If they ever went back to their old ways or complained to anybody, they were informed, “We know where each one of you lives. We know all about you. We are everywhere. We know your schedule, we know where you go, and when you return. We will know even if you beat your wife. We will come and get you!”
Sometime in the early hours of the morning, the mini-bus quietly dropped off a load of trussed-up men just outside the compound of a police station and sped off before anybody could see them. At the station, they presented their sorry selves to the lady Inspector in charge. They were photographed as they were, with a promise that the photographs would be in the newspapers even if they strayed a little. The threat was enough.
The Inspector threw the lot in jail, awaiting action.
She took out her phone and dialled a number. It was picked up by a lady. “The operation was successful”, the Inspector said. “Thank you. Please keep me posted”, said the voice at the other end and disconnected. This phone did not keep a log of calls.
The Minister in charge of Women and Child Development smiled as she put down the phone.
A few days after the brutal assault, rape and murder of Nirbhaya, a large group of angry and determined women had come together to form the Nirbhaya Movement with the help of the government. But for some members of the Movement, the repeated hurt and humiliation had run too deep. Political action was not enough. They needed to form a secret, but more militant arm of the movement. Both teams would teach their own lessons and bring about change in their own different ways. Large portions of the donations to the political movement were quietly funnelled over to the other group, which underwent military-style training in all aspects of weaponry and hand-to-hand combat with the help of retired army officers. None of its members ever spoke about the group. Membership was highly regulated and difficult, and all knowledge was shared strictly on a need-to-know basis.
The Minister was happy. ‘Nirbhaya’s Siblings’ was now functional. It had successfully carried out its first operation. In time, the Minister would get the whispers going but never confirm them. It was necessary to put the fear of vengeance into people, necessary for them to know that they wouldn’t escape punishment if they continued tormenting women.
Nirbhaya would be avenged. As many times as necessary. Slowly but surely, they would change things. By hook or by crook.
Nirbhaya Not Again, Never Again