Imperfect survivors in an inadequate system
Rakhi and Madhav’s resistance also spills out through phone calls – made persistently to whomever they deem to be “figures of authority”.
ASI Parvati, for instance, was the investigating officer on the case when the FIR was filed in 2018. Rakhi, Madhav and the kids seemed to take to her instantly, and she was their go-to for updates until she was transferred out of Netaji Subhash Police Station four years ago.
Eventually, the police officer had to gently point out to them that she had been transferred, that the investigation had concluded and that they might get more real-time news from their lawyers.
Still, until ASI Parvati moved away, she was at every event Rakhi and Madhav hosted, usually children’s birthday parties.
Parvati said she regretted not seeing the family more over the last four years. Nodding to their long wait for a legal outcome, she said she was sure they would see justice served.
“I’m sure there will be punishment – probably taking into account the fact that the accused has also already spent over seven years in custody,” she said.
As an IO, ASI Parvati will be the last police witness to testify and should, based on common practice, be the last prosecution witness to be cross-examined. The state’s trial against Suraj for the alleged rape of Pia continues: hearings are held every three months or so, with medical and police witnesses currently testifying.
If found guilty of committing penetrative sexual assault against a child under the age of 16, Suraj might face a minimum term of 20 years in prison and up to a maximum of life (minus time served), as well as a fine to cover Pia’s medical expenses and rehabilitation.
Pia’s parents no longer attend court, as they are no longer needed for testimony. Instead, they check in with the prosecution team after each court day.
Ashish Kumar, director of Legal Interventions at HAQ, the NGO assisting the family in the trial, said Parvati missed her last court summons. But given other recent holdups in the trial, he thinks she will be summoned again later.
“Police made mistakes in evidence collection that have been brought up by the defence,” he said.
“Those errors have set us back. The IO will probably have to be summoned later, once these holdups have been addressed.”
The POCSO mandates that each state government, in consultation with the chief justice of that state’s high court, designate “Special Courts” for speedy trials. Each district must have at least one Court of Session designated as a Special Court to try cases “in camera” – in closed chambers that protect the identity and dignity of children.
Among other provisions, it dictates the creation of a child-friendly atmosphere. The other significant mandate, under Section 35 (2), Chapter VIII of the POCSO Act, is that the Special Court “complete the trial, as far as possible, within a period of one year from the date of taking cognisance of the offence.”
In Pia’s case, that clearly has not happened.
Kumar blames the “pendency” of cases, the delay in processing cases that have been opened.
“Even if you push for an earlier date, judges often record that, due to heavy pendency, they are not inclined to give short (early) dates,” he said.
Delays due to “judicial insensitivity”, he said, are also common, referring to the use of victim-blaming language in court or the trivialisation of sexual violence.
“As an advocate working in matters of juvenile justice, I have children who have been in custody for years while cases drag on. Where is the sensitivity that there needs to be?” he asked, pointing out that the reason for creating the special courts was to ensure speedier justice and a child-friendly atmosphere.
“If we run them like regular criminal courts, then they have failed their purpose,” he added.
This is also a valid concern for the accused. Suraj, the accused in Pia’s rape case, has remained in custody for eight years without a conviction.
Like ASI (now retired) Parvati once did, Kumar and his small team of legal consultants receive frequent phone calls and WhatsApp messages from Rakhi and Madhav.
Mostly, the communications refer to arguments with their downstairs neighbours – extended family members and proponents of Suraj’s innocence. Over the past eight years, their relatives have maintained that the case has tainted their family honour and that, by continuing to pursue a trial against a family member instead of negotiating an out-of-court settlement, Rakhi and Madhav have irrevocably severed familial ties.
More recently, there have been fights over which family members can stake a claim to the joint property. A parallel civil dispute has played out in court between the family over the sharing of space. Raj Kataria, the former public prosecutor, said that led to the POCSO court dictating that the local police station set up closed-circuit television cameras at Rakhi and Madhav’s home entrances.
The couple is often found cross-legged and intensely staring at the giant surveillance screen that transmits grainy images of the gully outside. They scrutinise passing figures with something resembling paranoia. I’ve watched them toggle the television monitor, at the tap of a remote, between “regular” cable and their court-mandated CCTV.
The family fights have continued, resulting in regular calls to the police.
“The (Station House Officer) asks me what to do,” said Kumar. “Sometimes, the fights are about the family switching off the downstairs water motor at 2am, causing [Rakhi and Madhav’s] taps to run dry,” he says. “There isn’t much more we can do, beyond urging them to move out.”
Authorities have sent social workers out to the couple, offering to help them look for another home in the neighbourhood.
“The property is divided by floors, and their entry and exits overlap – of course, there’s going to be tension,” Kumar said.
But Rakhi and Madhav have never agreed to move.
