This is to write to you about the most difficult ten hours of my life. I was gang raped in an apartment by three men and attempted suicide. My friend without divulging what had happened called up the Delhi police Helpline where they referred us to a helpline which I was to learn later is called Swanchetan.

I was constantly crying and do not recall anything clearly from that period. I recall vaguely that my friend was telling me that everything would be Ok. I was drifting in and out of consciousness where everything looked hazy and blurred. My knees felt very weak and I could not stand on my feet.

How I came out of that phase I do not know. I remember that I went into hiding as the family of the boys who assaulted me were from a powerful family. I went into hiding and was protected by the counselors who came to see me.

It was there that I broke down. The whole incident came to me again and again how I had been duped and they had hit me again and again. There were no emotions only fleeting images floating past me fragmented and in pieces. I did not want to live.

I was supported. I was helped to find accommodation by my counselors where I lived for a month. My perpetrator’s families were out trying to locate me so that I could not give any evidence. I did not want any case against them either.

I wanted to forget the whole thing as quickly as possible. But it would not go either. And I realized it would stay with me as long as I live. So I decided to lodge a case after a few days.

It was not easy. I thought of myself, my image, my status and it was very difficult to say that somebody has violated my body so please lodge a case.

In this respect I feel rape is not like other crimes. When raped the victim feels as if life is ebbing out of her and her soul; her very core is destroyed, something she will never get back again.

I lived through that haze. I lodged a case against them and had to go through a horrible questioning by police in that period. All I remember is that the counselor held my hand and protected me otherwise I would have cracked up.

I went through a long trial period. It was horrible. Everyday was a living death for me. I have no recollection of that period. I stopped my college. I stopped going anywhere.

I had no friends. I would SMS my counselor in the night dozens of time and tell her I did not want to live. I would get irritated with myself and blame her that why she does not reject and how can she go on with me.

All my past traumas started coming to me in a flash. I hated myself. I saw myself for what I was. I cut my wrists every time I had to go to court, every time I saw the case being reported in the paper. So many times I wished that death would just come.

I never took bath. I had gone pale and weak and felt worms crawling all over my body. I had lost weight. It was a year later I realized that I had not laughed for a whole year. I read a novel where it was written where had all my laughter gone? I could say that about myself.

Today, I am a different person. I could not continue with the pressure of the case for long. It is difficult to explain to the outside world what a rape victim goes through.

You can not explain it to even your own lawyer handling it, the judges and even your own family. You feel judged by everyone, their eyes looking through you saying you brought on your victimization. Even my own family hates me for pursuing the case and feels I should have forgotten the whole matter.

Have I forgiven them? No. I will not.

One of the boy’s mothers came to me and said he has been in jail now for several years and you take the case back. I asked her, ‘do you know the jail I live in, everyday, every moment’ she was quiet.

She showed me a letter written by him apparently from jail saying he wants my forgiveness. I felt strange because it felt so crazy believing that I may still have power left within me to forgive another human being. But I decided I will forgive when I feel ready for it someday and that day also may never come for me.

To all rape survivors I want to say that do not give up your hopes, your dreams. Life comes back to you slowly. Each day a little warmth from someone, a little sign that there is life, brings joy and normalcy.

Other day it was a thunderstorm that broke and a little girl ran and clung to me tightly. She was my friend’s daughter. I felt strange and odd that somebody needs me for protection who could not protect herself. But felt it to be a sign from God that I can protect someone too and that made me feel validated that someone somewhere can need me and needs my protection. I joined a voluntary organization for autistic children as a helper.

When I felt needed again, I felt alive.

It has taken hundreds of sessions with my counselor and each session has been a gift that life is possible. I have gone through everything, every gamut of emotions that is known. I have felt crazy, I have felt humiliated, I have felt unable to carry on a moment and lastly I have felt like dying every moment.

Today, I want to live. I have changed so many things. I have new friends. All my old friends have left me. All my old associations are gone. I am in a new career, a new identity. I still talk to my counselor. I volunteer at the autistic center for children.

I even talked to rape survivor whom Swanchetan was working with. I told her my story and told her she will survive like I did.    Collapse

I am Mansa. I am 10. It was night. I was asleep when papa woke me up and my sisters. He said to get ready and gave a packet in my hand. It had a white powder in it. Everybody was awake and saying 'they are coming'. I did not know who they were.   Read More

I am Mansa. I am 10. It was night. I was asleep when papa woke me up and my sisters. He said to get ready and gave a packet in my hand. It had a white powder in it. Everybody was awake and saying 'they are coming'. I did not know who they were.

Papa took out a knife. I was scared if he is going to kill me. I then saw my uncle take out a knife too. They told us to be ready and run and in case someone catches us to eat the powder. I wondered who would do this.

Everyday we go to school. There are hundreds of us who go everyday with everyone giving us sweets. I have so many friends. I tried to argue but suddenly saw papa's eyes were glaring red. I was scared.

Suddenly there was a big ball of fire thrown in our courtyard. More fireballs came in. They started saying that it is to throw us out of the house. There were loud cries as we all ran out. There was a big crowd waiting outside.

We all started running, there were hundreds of us. There were many behind us who were chanting a strange sound I had not heard before. There were big sounds that I had not heard before.

There were loud shouts of boys and girls. They were crying, Mar dala [Killed me]. I was too scared. Who are these people I wondered? Where did they come from?

There were hundreds of us running. Suddenly a big mass of people came from front and attacked us. I ran in the opposite direction. Suddenly I found myself all alone. I saw my small sister being picked up by a man. My uncle tried to stop him. That man chopped off my uncle's head.

I tried to go and get her back, he gave me a blow and suddenly picked me up. I tried to fight and bit his hand. It did not work. I could not find that powder my father gave. He tore up my clothes and then he did something I can't write.

He was chanting something in the name of the god. Suddenly another man jumped on me. I knew him. He used to sell paan [beetal leaf] near our house. So many times he gave me toffees [sweets]. I begged him to meet my father. He laughed. I felt helpless. There were more men coming. I managed to run away. There were men chasing me.

I fell in a nallah [a ditch]. They were saying where is she, where is she. Nobody should be allowed to get away. Everybody's breath has to be stopped however small.

I stayed in the ditch for three days. All through the days I heard loud sounds and cries of people. I did not sleep at night for fear that someone would pick me up again. All through the body I was in terrible pain.

There was a man in the pit who died in front of me. He gave me a small locket when he died for good luck. The smell was terrible.

After four days I was very hungry and I came out to look for food. Suddenly I heard shouts, someone's hands at me. I ran back into that ditch and hid myself again. I came out again after a day.

I found two other girls whom I knew. We landed in a camp. There I ate two loaves of bread. There were hundreds of people. I asked everyone for my papa and my family. Nobody could tell.

I finally learnt from my neighbor that all of them were burnt alive. I cried and cried. I had nightmares of someone sitting on me and slitting my throat. As days passed I met my class mates who told me they have all lost their families.

I was in a daze. Then someone came and held my hand. It was different. It was the way papa held my hand as a kid. I broke out crying again. I shared everything. I could not hold back. I thought I was dead but felt I was alive. I had to live even if I had none. I did not want to take my life.

Many days have passed. I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked very old like my eldest sister who is 18. I told everything to the person who held my hand. I told him that I want to live and study but not here, somewhere far away.

He said he is trying and will get something done. I believe him. I do not know why someone killed my family but there are so many like me. He told me to do certain things to rid over the ghost images of the man sitting on me. We want to spread a message of love and peace. Please tell everyone that children do not want violence but peace.

Where she stands - She is safely living in a home under protection by staff. She has scored well in her studies and she wants to be a doctor. We believe she will be.    Collapse

I am Deepti. I am 12 years old. I come from a family of five brothers and sisters. I am the third. My father was a paper merchant. Everybody used to say that my mother was very pretty. I used to feel very happy when I heard it and felt she is my mummy. Read More

I am Deepti. I am 12 years old. I come from a family of five brothers and sisters. I am the third. My father was a paper merchant. Everybody used to say that my mother was very pretty. I used to feel very happy when I heard it and felt she is my mummy.

I used to go to my father and hug him and sit in his lap. He often looked very tired after a day's work. I used to think that nobody's parents are better than my papa and mummy. My two elder sisters were very pretty too and my brothers very smart.

I used to feel I am very special. I loved my studies and would love going to school. I had few friends too who would come to my house. Then one day I saw that a strange man had come to my home. He was very nice to my mother and my mother seemed to like him too.

Then he started coming very often. My sister one day told me that he and my mother take off their clothes and do funny things. I was told not to tell this to my father by my sisters. But my father got to know.

One day he came home and he tried to beat him up. He then beat up my mother very badly and she was bleeding from her mouth. She ran away after that but came back after sometime and told all of us she loves us and would never hurt us again.

We believed her but one day I saw her with that same man again and another man again. They saw me and my mother told me if I love her I will not tell anybody. I kept quiet but then one day my sister told me that man is back. We learnt that that man does lot of bad things. He sells young girls for Rs.5000 [five thousand rupees].

Somebody told us he plans to sell us too very soon. We got scared and told our papa. Our papa again beat up our mother. Then he was picked up and beaten very badly for being a bad man. We learnt that that bad man had got our papa beaten for having beaten our mother.

We became very scared after that. That bad man again started visiting our home. One day when my father came back home my and mother suddenly rushed to him and said she is sorry for everything and won't hurt us again. My papa brought sweets and was very happy after that. Late that night suddenly he called me and was vomiting blood. Somebody had poisoned him. The police took us for questioning. We were asked who had poisoned our father.

We cried and cried but he finally let us go. Later we learnt that my mother had poisoned him but there was no proof. Now that bad man again came to us and wanted things from us.

He would tell me to make tea for him and then would tell me to do errands. I would say yes out of fear. Then one day my mother changed again. The bad man stopped coming and came very few times.

One day I heard him talk of going with my mother and my eldest sister out of town. My sister never came back from that trip. Acid was thrown on her body and she died in a far away hospital.

Where she stands – “I have realized that once I grow up I'll find the answers to many of my questions. I'll soon be 18 years and an adult. Many things will become clear then. But what matters more than my questions and everything else is the love I get from others”.    Collapse

I am Aditi, 22 years old. I am a student of dancing and I also teach dance to young children I live alone in the city of Delhi in a rented apartment. I came to Delhi three years ago from a small town after I got a scholarship to study in a prestigious institution.Read More

I am Aditi, 22 years old. I am a student of dancing and I also teach dance to young children I live alone in the city of Delhi in a rented apartment. I came to Delhi three years ago from a small town after I got a scholarship to study in a prestigious institution.

My family had opposed it but they gave in because I fought and fought about not missing this opportunity. My family is nothing worth talking about. We are three sisters and I am the middle one.

My father is an ex army man who has been very cruel and brutal towards all the three sisters. He would get into his drinking spree and beat us up several times a week.

The most vivid memory from my childhood is trying to find places to hide and he searching for us. My mother would never come to our rescue and was herself going into depression now and then.

Finally leaving this home was liberation. Delhi was so different. Everything about it told me that I belonged here and this is where my future lies. People did not have the pettiness that small town people seem to have. Everyone seemed to go about his or her work, move around.

My course was full of students who seemed so full of life. I began to make friends and go to parties. Everyone seemed to accept me the way I was. Soon I began to receive complements from young men that I was beautiful.

I would receive proposals for dating but I would politely say ‘No’. I wanted to finish my degree before entering into a relationship.

Then one day a man around my age whom I had met at parties a few times cornered me and told me about his feelings for me. He said that he only wanted to talk, to meet as a friend and nothing more. His face seemed genuine and caring.

May be he is not like my father, I thought. He would enquire about me, show small gestures to show he cares. Gradually I started opening up to him. Then one day he proposed marriage.

I told him my life story, my struggle to come to terms with an abusive childhood, my brutal father and my desire to create an identity of my own, a position from where I never feel hurt again.

It was the first time I had opened up to anyone in my life so much. I wanted him to understand without feeling rejected.

Few days later he told me that he is leaving Delhi because he can’t be in the same town with me and not be together. He asked if I could come and meet him once. I felt deeply guilty and in some way responsible and therefore went to his apartment to tell him not to act in this way.

In his apartment, he assaulted me sexually, brutally beating me up. It’s a side of him that I had not known and not envisaged ever. In my attempts to run away from male brutality I had failed once again.

After the assault he threw me out of the home saying now I’ll see how we don’t get married. I roamed around in the streets of Delhi aimlessly, tears flowing down my eyes.

Before I summed up myself, I called up my friend who called a crisis help-line. The staff from there told me that I must press charges but my mind was not stable.

I didn’t want to contact my family; I didn’t want any one to know. By next day, I had decided to press charges but I was not thinking of the assault. I was thinking of my childhood where I was abused, my brutal father, and my struggle for finding an identity.

I was thinking about all that is lost. The staff from the help-line arranged a therapist for me with whom I just burst out. I was too full of pain and had to share a life time of abuse.

Today, one year later, I am together for the first time. I understand that in trying to run away from my brutal father I had gone into another abusive relationship without seeing the clues that this man was giving.

As I learnt later from police records, he was an abuser and had done so with other victims prior to me. Today I realize that what I most needed in my life was to talk to someone about what I had gone through. “Every girl like me needs it”.

I have learnt how to discriminate between safe and unsafe, right and wrong, and most important between an abuser and a non-abuser, a lesson every girl needs in our society.

The emotional trauma of the assault has lessened and I am beginning to feel alive. It is slow but I know it’s there and I do believe that if you have the will to survive and transcend you can come out a winner.

Where she stands – Aditi has finished her degree. She finds that her dancing today is more spiritual.    Collapse

I am Kajal, 25 years old. I work as a manager in the service industry. I am in charge of a large department and I am told that I am very good at public dealing. I was earning a high five figure salary and by all description I was tall, attractive and had the world at my feet as the people would say.    Read More

I am Kajal, 25 years old. I work as a manager in the service industry. I am in charge of a large department and I am told that I am very good at public dealing. I was earning a high five figure salary and by all description I was tall, attractive and had the world at my feet as the people would say.

Despite meeting many eligible bachelors on my own, I had still left the decision to my parents to find a life partner for me. I did not believe in the so-called love marriages, having seen many of my friends get in to a marriage impulsively and breaking up soon after.

I believed that an arranged marriage with all its checks and cross-checks had a better probability of succeeding. My parents had placed an ad in the newspaper and my sister and I would go over each ad and finally we selected a few that we felt matched my requirements.

One particular man caught my fancy. He was attractive, charming and came from a very reputed family. When we met him I felt this has to be the one.

My sister and my best friend advised me to go slow but I had total faith in my parent’s judgment and believed that a person from a conservative and reputed family would also be someone of integrity and character.

Our marriage was a big affair. My parents spent nearly all their savings on the marriage. In what now appears as a familiar story told by countless women, I became a victim from the moment of my marriage.

The marriage was a night mare. My husband got drunk and pulled my younger sister to the dance floor. She resisted first but then gave in to avoid a scene.

My parent’s in-law carefully looked at all the items of dowry and told my parents that it’s not enough. As if these two incidents were not enough the groom’s friends turned violent and broke a number of things in anger.

Worst of all, I who in my college days had fought for women’s rights kept silent in order to avoid a scene. I could see my parents head hanging in shame at what was happening.

When I went to my new home, the nightmare began to take full shape. My in-laws family taunted me for not bringing enough dowry. We left for our honeymoon that ironically my office had arranged.

My husband knowing this got himself drunk on the most expensive wines saying that your office would bear the whole cost. He was violent with me a few times and I had to wear big sunglasses to cover the bruises under the eyes.

On one occasion he twisted my arms so badly that I almost had a fracture. We came back after a week and I kept all this hidden from my family because I did not want them to know.

Today I realize that it was my biggest mistake. From the time we came back it was violence every day. I am a devout Hindu and do not eat meat during religious festivals. One day in a fit of rage, he twisted my arms, opened my mouth, poured alcohol in my mouth during the period of ‘Navratri’s.

It was utterly humiliating for me. I had never been debased in this manner before. Whenever I had disagreed, my parents had taught me to negotiate, to understand another person’s point of view. This was totally absent in my matrimonial home.

In their family, women were supposed to be submissive, docile and never disagree with men. I had committed a cardinal sin by thinking that I would be treated as an equal to my husband and having the right to disagree with him and my in-laws.

Each time such a thing would happen I would keep quiet and not speak about the incident. “Don’t tell” seemed to be my motto in life. A day came when I looked at myself in the mirror and could not visualize the person I saw there. I saw someone bloated, tired and beaten. I had lost the will to fight or simply I had lost my will.

Three months after this nightmare, one day I accidentally bumped into my friend of college days. She asked me a few questions and I just poured out my trauma. She was working with a women’s right organization and motivated me to not take it lying down but fight for my rights.

Next time when my husband turned abusive after a few drinks, something came over me and I decided to fight back. My resistance in fact proved to provoke him further. He was violent to me like never before and beat me unconscious.

In the morning when I regained consciousness, I called up the police and my friend. I told them everything that had happened. A case was lodged against my husband and his family and they were all sent to jail.

My friend got me to speak to a psychologist specializing in violence against women. Slowly I realized how I had paved the way for increased violence by keeping silent and believing that everything would be worked out alright.

It never does. What every woman should know today is that she should not be silent and must learn to say ‘No’, to express herself and never compromise on that.

Slowly I got my divorce. I have been promoted in my job and am managing a higher responsibility. I remember my traumatic days at times and know that they have toughened me inside.

I now believe that it’s very important for every woman to be careful of two things, apart from all the other things that are important for her. How does her husband deal with disagreements and what does he do when he’s very angry?

Where she stands – She has become a volunteer for an organization working on women’s rights. She is also handling increased professional responsibilities successfully. Collapse

I am Irfan. I am ten years old. I lived in an orphanage. One day last year somebody came to me when I was leaving for school and gave me a newspaper in Urdu to read. It had articles on boys and girls needed for holy war.   Read More

I am Irfan. I am ten years old. I lived in an orphanage. One day last year somebody came to me when I was leaving for school and gave me a newspaper in Urdu to read. It had articles on boys and girls needed for holy war.

It showed burnt buildings and talked of an imminent victory for Muslims and how they are being oppressed all over the world and now they need to hit back.

I threw away the paper but then the man came again. He came with some one I knew. They told me there is going to be a meeting. I did not go for that. But then they came again one day in the night and told me I am a coward.

This time I felt convinced they have a point. I went to a madarsa, a school for us where we were told that we need a different education. I gave up school and started all the time reading religious books and our slavery to the men from India. I started reading on arms and how to use them.

Then one day my hostel father approached with another man and he asked me to give up madarsa and join back normal school. They both talked to me of joining the school back and I said no. But then my friend one day told me to go to another place. That place was quiet.

There were mountains all around. We learnt using arms and other things by which you break things. Then one day I saw a man being killed. He was crying and saying he has small children. But everyone laughed and said that he should be killed. I saw several men being killed.

Then one day I was brought forward and they tied a lot of threads around me. I was told that Allah had appeared in the dreams and said I was to be selected. I was to give my life by running into something.

I heard that some others were saying he is too young for this and some other person should be chosen. But I felt very proud. One day I saw the picture of our leader and his family. His son was sitting next to him.

I wondered why I am chosen for this when all others seem to have a good time, because I am an orphan. "I ran and reached to safety far away". I am safe and hiding.

I do not want to kill anyone. I do not feel people are so bad that you have to kill them.

Where he stands - His life is endangered because he has run away from a fundamentalist organization. He was being prepared earlier for a suicide bombing and now he wants to leave his older life behind.    Collapse