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A bureaucrat remembers his first brush with a dowry death as a young man sent to investigate a case
My first brush with dowry was not when it was offered to me; it wasn’t when I had refused it- I had taken all this in my stride. It was something much more; it was ghoulish, it was savage and feral. I was just about 25, a young Sub Divisional Magistrate lording over my jurisdiction and getting used to being an executive magistrate.
That night is etched in my soul. It was nearing midnight, the skies had opened up and it was raining cats and dogs. I had just received a call from my boss, the District Magistrate, asking me to head for the local burial ground where a body had to be exhumed, and it had to be exhumed immediately and sent for an autopsy. I was not to send any other magistrate, I was to go myself. The body in question was of a young Muslim girl who had been killed for dowry, and the body had been buried on the sly.
I had learnt about exhumations, about dying declarations, and about so much more to do with death during my training, and I was now called upon to do what was part of my duty. My driver and bodyguard were summoned, and we proceeded to the burial ground in pitch darkness and pelting rain. The police had already been asked to make the necessary arrangements, and when I reached the burial ground, flood lights with a generator had been set up, and the digging had begun.
I was scared, and with each shovelful of earth my heart was in my mouth. The doms who were doing the digging were drunk- I learnt that whenever they had to perform a task like this, they first drank themselves silly, and I don’t blame them. We were drenched to the core and the rain showed no signs of letting up.
And then my world stood still, I gagged, and I watched- a decomposed body was pulled out from that sodden hole in the ground- a body which was human till the other day. She must have had her moments of joy and of sorrow, she must have laughed and cried, she must have sang and danced, she must have studied, she must have…I checked myself then; I was getting lost in a life now so brutally extinguished. I wanted to weep, but I was the local magistrate.
I had to get back and write out my report, so I had to study the prima facie cause of death- she had been hit with a blunt weapon on the base of her neck from behind, breaking the upper spine neatly. On my direction, the doms held her head and let it fall, indicating that the bone and the cartilage in the neck had been broken, and that her head was hanging free.
Everything lost meaning at that moment- my life, my education, my values, my whole existence. All my training vanished into thin air. I stood frozen in that graveyard, and then I wept, my tears washed away by the rain.
My God died that night. He died young.
This death, this night without end would merit a line or two in the next day’s SITREP (Situation Report), which would then slowly wind its way up to a statistician in the National Crime Records Bureau. It would finally become a statistic under the heading ‘Crime against Women’, sub-heading ‘Dowry Deaths’.
Pic credit: United Nations Photos (Used under a Creative commons license)
I am a former bureaucrat, and have worked a lot on gender issues, disaster management and good governance. I am also the proud father of two lovely daughters. read more...
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Neena was the sole caregiver of Amma and though one would think that Amma was dependent on her, Neena felt otherwise.
Neena inhaled the aroma that emanated from the pan and took a deep breath. The aroma of cumin interspersed with butter transported her back to the modest kitchen in her native village. She could picture her father standing in the kitchen wearing his white crisp kurta as he made delectable concoctions for his only daughter.
Neena grew up in a home where both her parents worked together in tandem to keep the house up and running. She had a blissful childhood in her modest two-room house. The house was small but every nook and cranny gave her memories of a lifetime. Neena’s young heart imagined that her life would follow the same cheerful course. But how wrong she was!
When she was sixteen, the catastrophic clutches of destiny snatched away her parents. They passed away in a road accident and Neena was devastated. Relatives thronged her now gloomy house and soon it was decided that she should be married off.
Menopause is a reality in women's lives, so Indian workplaces need to gear up and address women's menopausal needs.
Picture this: A seasoned executive at the peak of her career suddenly grapples with hot flashes and sleep disturbances during important meetings. She also battles mood swings and cognitive changes, affecting her productivity and confidence. Eventually, she resigns from her job.
Fiction? Not really. The scenario above is a reality many women face as they navigate menopause while meeting their work responsibilities.
Menopause is the time when a woman stops menstruating. This natural condition marks the end of a woman’s reproductive years. The transition brings unique physical, emotional, and psychological changes for women.
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