'Aam aadmi' & his tumultuous tales

It was close to midnight and roads were mostly empty. He was driving at 60 km an hour when suddenly, as he passed a crowded tea shop, a man jumped right onto his path, over the road divider.

He jammed his break and hooted. The man, instead of stopping in his tracks, continued walking. It was a low car and hit the man on his ankles. He fell on the windshield, smashed it to smithereens, showering the driver with glass. The driver jumped out, rushed to the man. Bystanders collected and berated the injured man for stupidity.

The driver offered to take him to the hospital, gave him his phone number. Someone called the ambulance, for the man seemed to have hurt his ankle.

Other bystanders gave their phone numbers to the driver, assuring him of coming to give evidence of his being not at fault in the accident.

As soon as the ambulance had taken the injured man away, the driver left his car and took an auto-rickshaw to the nearest police station to report the accident. The policemen on duty shooed him away. "Why did you even bother to stop? You should have just driven away. Nothing will come of this. It's not worth our taking it down," they said. The next day and the day after, the driver tried to report the accident again. No luck.

Meanwhile the son of the injured started calling and hassled the driver for paying medical expenses for a fractured ankle. The driver assured him that he was insured for third party injury and would let him know when this came through. He also reminded him that the accident was his father's fault. Two days later, the driver was informed that police had registered a criminal case of negligence against him.

Chandan was an abused wife for 20 years. Her husband had done it all - broken her rib, shoved a tong up her vagina, banged her head so that she could only hear from one ear, kept a mistress and abused and dragged her on the streets. She had to look after and bring up two children, so she bore it.

When her daughter was 16, she got her married to a 'nice' man from her community. He started abusing the young girl as soon as she was pregnant. After she gave birth to a girl, the abuses became intolerable and the girl returned home.

Now Chandan had two more mouths to feed, and an abusive man to deal with. She started working with me. Seeing her black and blue a couple of times, I suggested she file a case of domestic violence against her husband. It took me 14 months and much continuing abuse to convince her. She did. The police took their sweet time in coming to check on her husband.

Anything could have happened in that period for her husband knew she had been to the police station. He was in custody for a day and while he continues verbal abuse, does not dare beat her anymore. But he has his 19-year-old daughter handy.

Trying to get some additional income into the household, the daughter has started working next door at a notebook making unit, in the few hours that her child is in school. The father came there, grabbed her hair and dragged her through the streets calling her a slut, with three or four-year-old toddlers watching them all the while.

The police will not intervene. A case is pending. Influenced by his father perhaps, the 18-year-old son, a rickshaw driver, has also stopped coming home or bringing any money in. A case for maintenance for her daughter and grand-daughter continues in the lower court endlessly, with the son-in-law pretending undying love, and lying about having supported them financially for all the years they have been apart.

These are just glimpses into the daily travails of the aam aadmi and aurat in the city. Do we wonder that their anger levels are at boiling point and can turn murderous instantly? Is this the societal weave we offer our billion plus?

The writer is a noted danseuse and social activist