There are very few moments which can define a city for you, but for me, 18th December, 2012 was the day which defined Delhi for me. I hated Delhi. The brash, loud, spoilt-rotten crowd with their flashy cars and flashier girlfriends. Let me correct myself… I hated delhiites.
And then the Nirbhaya case happened, and something about an unknown girl stirred the emotions of each and everyone. Perhaps because there was a bit of Nirbhaya in each one of us. Perhaps because we knew that the next time it could be any of us.
And so, on 18th dec 2012, a storm descended upon India Gate. As I stood holding two placards on Rajpath, I saw group upon group of college students joining in. The busy, self-obsessed, divided Delhi had stopped for one day… to unite for a girl none of us knew, yet all of us could relate to. And then the protest began.
There is a unique sense of unity when you protest for a cause. And as we marched on, from India Gate to Rashtrapati Bhawan, I could sense each platoon becoming a single body. When one voice quietened down, three others rose up to support it. When one hand tired down of shaking protest signs, two others held it back up.
Beside me was a stranger I’d met and lent my placard to. As we marched on, I asked her why she was hiding her face from the news channel cameras. She laughed and replied, “I’m an advocate at the high court. Legally, I’m not even allowed to be here!”
When we finally reached Rashtrapati Bhawan, we were told to settle down quietly. A female reporter had come to address us and told us that an urgent cabinet meeting was taking place to discuss the issue, and she’d be out in 20 minutes to let us know of the decision .Being ordinary students, all of us sat there, everyone discussing the case. Since my throat was parched from shouting, I went to the back of the crowd to buy some water. As I looked back, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Water cannons directed at the very peaceful crowd I’d been sitting with! We had been fooled by the government!
Soon, without any warning, smoke bombs followed. And as I looked on with disbelief, a huge battalion of Delhi police lathi charged. An unknown guy outstretched his arm protectively to shield me and shouted, “Aap log yahan se jao. Hum log yahan pe dekh lenge. Bas aap log jao. You’ll get hurt”
And that was the moment that defined Delhi for me. A strange guy protecting an unknown girl. He was one of the same Delhi males who are accused, generically, of being lewd and lascivious. And the same delicate, disenchanted, supposedly ‘easy’ girls were persevering in the lathi attack and smoke bombs to fight for their rights. And this was the same Delhi I had once hated. The Delhi which accepts the rest of India into it, while the rest of India refuses to accept it.