The condition of India is not good

If you count yourself among those for whom this Holi weekend went well, that’s good. Because there would be some, and here I stress women, for whom rang panchami would’ve been about revelry (the good part) and then about unasked-for touchy-feely behaviour — colloquially called chhed chhaad.

A phenomenon not confined only to maximum city. And worse, a phenomenon not confined to Holi, but increasingly becoming more worrisome in its avatar of greater intensity: that of violence against women.

Consider the last few weeks alone, in a month making a big noise about Women’s Day:

In Mumbai, five differently-abled girls are raped in an orphanage. A mother jumps to her death, the apparent extent of her personal anguish such that she throws both her children down before her (reports later suggest mental torture in her marital home). More macabre, two women found dead, one of them pregnant, their bodies stuffed into suitcases.

In Delhi, a 20-year-old on her way to college shot in broad daylight by a random stalker. In Goa, an 11-year-old reportedly raped at Colva beach, last Tuesday.

I could go on listing violent acts against women in Indian cities, but why highlight just the last few weeks? Young actor Sonam Kapoor on Woman’s Day, remarked that being a woman in general (not just a woman in B-Town) was a struggle, and she wasn’t far off the mark. Random acts of violence in public, or covert ones inside households, the implications are the same — frightening.

In fact, a woman’s struggle, especially in India, begins at birth. Should I call it a gift then, a girl child’s survival? You would know that female foeticide being greater only in rural sectors is a myth. City doctors confide how affluent families ‘forget’ to visit their bahus in elite hospitals if the baby delivered is a girl.

Recent figures in Maharashtra, released by the State Health Mission Resource Centre, show an alarming dip: in the age group 0-6 years, the ratio of female per 1000 male children was 946 in 1991 and 908 in 2009. Reports say it’s more worrying in affluent districts.

A recently reported global survey on gender equality showed that 24% of Indian men have committed sexual violence at some point in their lives and 20% have admittedly forced their significant others to have sex. Worse, it was reported that over 65% believed that a woman should tolerate domestic violence to keep the family together. Rather topsy-turvy, for a country remarkably enamoured of the feminine divine, and, in fact, identifying itself in the feminine, as in ‘motherland’.

There have been proposals to tackle violence, in fits and starts: the government’s concern over female foeticide has led to the proposal of a website for sex determination complaints, to be up by May. Despite protests and debate, plans are on to restrict the sale of abortion pills. But there’s a very long way to go — a dedicated effort is sorely needed, one which also addresses violence apart from foeticide.

Meanwhile, I do know other women who, like me, have never quite enjoyed Holi — they too believe the licence to misbehave is unfairly heightened in such settings. And how to combat instances of violence in a society that is turning increasingly hostile? There are no easy answers. There are, though, evolved men who in positions of trust and power might set the standard. Like India’s first prime minister, Jawaharlal Nehru. He was the one who pointed out that you could tell the condition of a nation by looking at the status of its women.