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Even as I sit down to write the story of Pink and ‘women on trial’, the news of Scarlett Keeling – the British teen whose bruised and half-naked body was found in the waters of Anjuna Beach, Goa – filters in. The two men, charged with culpable homicide and grievous sexual assault of the teen in 2008, have been cleared of all charges.
That, in a nutshell, is what we deal with, when we deal with rape in India.
When Pink released last week, it quickly became clear that it was much more than just a revolutionary, wondrous commentary on the indefatigable spirit of women. It was a piercing indictment of the way sexual assault survivors are treated in courtrooms across the country. In pamphlet-like oratory, Amitabh Bachchan proffers to the audience one damning stereotype after the other – only to crush them with mortar-like precision.
But how loud does that oratory ring in real time?
However, John argues that the provision of an in-camera trial is vastly different across the geographies of India.
If Bachchan and the Pink women succeeding in spearing courtroom bigotries to the wall, they were helped ably by their presiding judge (Dhritiman Chatterjee) who comes across almost as an ally. Chatterjee plays the voice of reason – one that negotiates the horrific minefields of Piyush Mishra’s ML Sharma-esque speech and votes in favour of the women.
Such a voice of reason – at least in metros – does not appear too far removed from reality, according to High Court advocate Debdatta Ray Chaudhary.
Hingorani concurs as she speaks of Minal (Taapsee Pannu’s) trial in the courtroom. “When her lawyer starts asking her incisive questions about her virginity and character, he swiftly intervenes to let her know she has the option of answering these questions in-camera. She just happens to refuse.”
Such judicial sensitivity is ideal – particularly in cases of rape where cross-examination can – and most often, does – get brutal.
“Judicial officers undergo sensitivity training, which is very important,” adds Hingorani – an epitome of which is clearly seen in the form of Dhritiman Chatterjee in the movie.
However, as John reiterates, situations differ vastly across landscapes. This can be seen in terms of the way judges speak to rape survivors or word their statements. (In 2008, for instance, a trial court judge in Rajasthan had allowed the defence lawyer to ask the rape survivor to describe the posture she was in when she was raped.)
“You must have an understanding of what rape does to a woman. In the last few months, there has been an expanded understanding of the language of rape – but I don’t know how much of that new language is understood by courts beyond Delhi and Bombay – sometimes, not even there,” says John.
Lacuna in delivery of judgements can be the last straw for an already embattled rape survivor. While in Pink, the case seems to reach a conclusion in almost record time, most rape cases drag on for months – often many, many years.
Fast track courts – and more judges in fast track courts – are the way to break the snag, suggests Hingorani.
Pink, we can all agree, is beautiful, brave and utopian in terms of its swashbuckling swoop-and-serve of justice. Can a case be made for the same in the world outside?
(At The Quint, we question everything. Play an active role in shaping our journalism by becoming a member today.)
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