By R. Jennifer War and Glenn C. Kharkongor
The Khasi movie, Onaatah, has been playing to packed houses at cinema theatres in Shillong. This award-winning film, produced by Pradip Kurbah, has struck a chord with the public. Rather unexpectedly, the theme of rape did not put off the usually straitlaced members of our conservative religious community. How did the movie become a box office hit?
Every women shudders just to think about rape. But from a young age, almost every girl child, adolescent or teenager has been crudely robbed of their innocence. The prevalence of crimes against women is nearly universal. A recent survey shows that four out of five women in India have faced sexual molestation or harassment and these high numbers are seen in all regions of the country.
In the opening scenes of Onaatah, a car suddenly stops alongside the victim and she is swiftly bundled into the car by the gang of rapists. She is dressed modestly, a nurse making a house call to administer an injection. It is late at night but medical care cannot be given only at convenient times. At least one of the rapists is known to her.
In a study conducted among four hundred plus tribal youth studying in a university in Shillong, more than half of them (male 61%, female 55%) blamed the victim in rape cases. Loose morals and revealing outfits (usually Western clothing) were most often cited as reasons for rape. Some students said that such women “asked to be raped”. In matrilineal gender-conscious Khasi society, it was surprising to see that many women still blame their female counterparts for being raped.
When a man passes a sweet shop, where delicious gulab jamuns are temptingly on display, would he break the glass case and grab a sweet. Would society condone this act of violence and theft by saying, “the shopkeeper should not have displayed the sweets so provocatively?”
A post on Facebook said: “Ladies wearing sarees, trousers or purdah get harassed – so dress is not the problem; 7 year-olds, 17 year-olds, even 70 year-olds get molested- so age is not the problem; Hindu, Christian or Muslim gets raped – so religion is not the problem. Everyone knows all this, yet women are still blamed.
In the movie, the survivor is fortunate to have a supportive family. They rally around her, comfortingly, protectively, but find it difficult to explicitly address the issue that has tragically overcome the family. The reticent father finds it easier to persuade her to watch a football match on TV with him. The warmth of the family circle is not enough to prevent her from attempting to take her life.
The frequency of news reports, almost daily, seem to indicate that the number of cases of rape and child sexual abuse are on the rise in Meghalaya. What is worrying is that our continued silence could be one of the factors contributing to increasing sexual violence against women and minors in our society. Most parents do not talk about sex-related issues with their children and so youth depend on friends, who share half-baked information among themselves in an effort to answer their questions or curiosity. Creating early awareness about sexual violence is necessary, as by the time students go to college, many have already developed misconceptions about rape and sexuality.
In one of her articles, Patricia Mukhim has correctly noted that the lack of a proper word for rape in the tribal languages somehow fails to convey the horror of the crime. In the Khasi language, rape is called batbor, meaning ‘holding down of power’. Does this mean that women are seen as physically weaker and therefore available to be easily raped. The word batbor does not even begin to describe the physical, psychological and emotional trauma the victim experiences.
Onaatah’s trauma does not end with the rape. She has to face the humiliation of court hearings, and even the so-called fast-track court prolongs her agony. The rapists are found guilty and sentenced but plan to appeal for a reduction of their jail sentences. In a poignant scene, she pleads, “Is there any reduction of the suffering for me?” When the guilty are sentenced to 10 years in prison, she moans, “But I am imprisoned for life.”
The recovery and healing process is hindered by the process of law and the shame of prying questions as to the how, when and what time it happened, what did you wear, why were you alone and on and on. Most of these proceedings are conducted by men and prevalent rape myths and false beliefs constantly hover in the background, sometimes tending to shift the blame from the rapist to the victim.
In a survey the question was asked “If a girl or woman is raped in India, will she have the same chances in life as anyone else? For example, to find a good husband or live a normal family life. A resounding 89% of Indians believe that she never will. So she serves a life sentence.
The city men in the movie behaved with callous disregard. Onaatah’s fiancé, a doctor, demanded that the matter be hushed up, not wanting his status to be stained. When she insisted on bringing the perpetrators to book, he broke off the engagement and disappeared. In a shared taxi, she happened to meet a former college classmate, whose main interest was to know how much monetary compensation she had received. On the other hand, the men in the village treated her with respect, accepting her into the village circle as one of them.
So what can be done? In the last decade or so, there has been an increase in public and media attention on sexual violence against women and children and the need for sex education has been highlighted by psychologists and school administrators in television talk shows and newspapers. The Adolescence Education Program (AEP) was an admirable government initiative to address this need at the school level. But the AEP met with resistance from prudish politicians and has been abandoned in most states.
There seems to be a lack of political will to take up the matter. It was however heartening that in his first Independence Day speech Prime Minister Narendra Modi condemned the spate of rapes and offered parents some advice on how to bring up better sons. He said, “In every home, parents ask daughters lots of questions as to where she is going, when will she return, and ask her to inform them when she reaches her destination. But have you ever asked your son where he is going, why is he going and who are his friends? After all, the person committing the rape is also someone’s son. It’s the responsibility of the parents to stop their sons before they take the wrong path.”
Parents and teachers can play a major role in sensitizing the younger generation in such matters. At a university in Shillong, data is collected from a weeklong reproductive health and sexuality education workshop that is conducted annually for all students.
After the course students said they could initiate conversations within their families and in their neighborhoods after the workshops. One Khasi postgraduate woman student said, “I just wanted you to know how important this was for me. I assumed rape was the woman’s fault because of the way she dresses.” Evidence from the world over shows that sex education is effective in reducing gender based violence.
We urge parents, teachers, community, political and religious leaders to move out of our comfort zone of silence, create forums, big or small, to address these issues and create safe spaces for our women and children to live in. Today it seems to be another family’s problem, tomorrow it can strike your own family.
Undoubtedly, the success of the movie stemmed from its entertainment value, the humour of the dialogue, the original script, the skillful acting. Yet the producer did not diminish or downplay the theme or denigrate the victim. The simple yet sensitive and friendly village folk brought healing and closure to the survivor and the film made the acceptance and discussion of a taboo theme easier for all of us. Our society needs frank dialogues and effective measures on this growing social problem, rather than stone walls of silence.
The authors are from Martin Luther Christian University