A tale of two deaths

The government cannot be Hercule Poirot in one case and Inspector Goon in another

October 09, 2020 12:51 pm | Updated 08:05 pm IST

New Delhi, 02/10/2020: Various organisations seen during a massive protest at Jantar Mantar on Hathras incident, in New Delhi on Friday . Photo: Sushil Kumar Verma  / The Hindu

New Delhi, 02/10/2020: Various organisations seen during a massive protest at Jantar Mantar on Hathras incident, in New Delhi on Friday . Photo: Sushil Kumar Verma / The Hindu

Mumbai, Maharashtra. June 14, 2020: an actor, 34, is found dead in his apartment.

Hathras, Uttar Pradesh. September 14, 2020: a Dalit woman, 19, is brutally assaulted in a bajra field. She later dies.

Three months between the two tragedies but an ocean of difference in the state’s response to each. And in the response of the media and that all-pervasive, hydra-headed creature called social media.

In the former case, despite everything pointing overwhelmingly to suicide, there was a concerted media campaign that successively dragged in drugs, money laundering and murder with wild abandon. With each new allegation, the voices on TV got louder and the theories more bizarre, even as actual proof got thinner and thinner. Unfazed by this, the government saw fit to assign an alphabet soup of central agencies to investigate — CBI, NCB, ED. From drugs to dirty money to murder, each theory has been slowly eliminated, but the shouting continues.

In the Hathras case, meanwhile, the young woman was found, naked and semi-paralyzed, by her mother. Rushed to hospital, she named her assailants — privileged caste men from her village — and said she had been assaulted. She used the word zabardasti , a Hindi euphemism for ‘rape’. She subsequently died.

In stark contrast to the death of a star in Mumbai, when every wacky conspiracy theory was taken at its word and diligently followed up by the government, in Hathras even the most obvious allegations — that of rape and caste atrocity — are being shrugged off. Unlimited time and personnel were devoted to the actor’s death, with everyone and their aunt becoming narcotics and forensic experts overnight. In Hathras, however, demands for justice are being labelled “nefarious plots”. Dozens of FIRs have since been issued — not only in connection with the murder, but for “violating Sec. 144”, for “sedition”, “instigation” and “criminal conspiracy”. Clearly, protesting crime is as unlawful as crime itself.

According to basic police procedure, if an injured woman is brought in, she should be immediately checked for signs of sexual assault. Yet this woman’s vaginal swab was taken 10 days later, when semen and other signs would be long gone. Nor are the police revealing whether the woman’s clothes were preserved, or samples taken from her fingernails and skin for DNA testing. When a sensitive case is under investigation, conscientious police procedure would ideally keep the victim’s body in the morgue to facilitate further examination. Yet this woman’s body was cremated by the police with unholy haste. The law says that even if there is an allegation of sexual violence, the victim’s name cannot be revealed, yet this woman’s name was revealed in public by Amit Malviya, the chief of BJP’s IT cell. The law states that a dying declaration is admissible in evidence and can form the basis of conviction, yet this woman’s statement is being side-stepped.

One is compelled to ask: what happened to the sharp detective instincts we used when it was an actor’s death? Did three months of continuous use blunt the government’s and certain TV anchors’ investigative knives? Or did they get dulled by the balmy air of Uttar Pradesh?

It is facile to keep pointing to politicians and television anchors and WhatsApp forwards and talk of how insidiously they corrupt agendas and muddy the waters. They would not be able to do this quite so well if large sections of the great middle and upper classes, the avid consumers and engine drivers of this neo-liberal economy, did not so willingly swallow everything they are told. There comes a point when we need to stop and ask if we will only listen to TV hosts and slick propaganda posts or if we will also listen to our conscience. A point when we ask why an actor’s death outranks a Dalit teenager’s murder in our outrage meter. A point when we question why we are suddenly so comfortable with electioneering becoming unconscionable. That point is now.

Where the writer tries to make sense of society with seven hundred words and a bit of snark.

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