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She walks into the hospital with her 5-year-old daughter. Confused and worried, she patiently waits outside the children’s ward for her turn. Her daughter sits there fidgeting with her fingers as she stares down at the stained mosaic floor, expressionless. The daughter hasn’t been herself lately. She has been awfully quiet and gloomy and does not let anyone near her. “It has got to be something more than just the stomach aches she has been complaining about. Why else would she not let me even touch her?”, the mother says realising the possibility of something very ‘bad and dirty’ happening to her little one. She is starting to tear up but is suddenly startled to hear her name being called out. The nurse motions her to come in. She wipes her tears and walks in clutching her daughter’s hand tightly. A few minutes later, she comes out of the doctor’s clinic with a deadpan expression, still holding on to her daughter who continues to look down. Seems like her worst fears have just been confirmed. With her voice shaking she asks the nurse, “Where is Room 101?”
I uncomfortably settle down in Room 101, a tiny non-descript room situated inside the crowded and the murky Out Patient Department (OPD) of KB Bhabha Hospital in Mumbai. From behind the curtain I hear muffled voices of women, trying to reassure someone, followed by a shrieking sound of a crying infant. The room is tiny and the air inside feels heavy. Perhaps because it bears the tales of women and children who’ve been survivors of sexual abuse; their stories documented in files and papers that are neatly stacked in the iron shelves and cupboards in front of me. ‘Dilaasa ’a sign reads on the door. It means ‘ reassurance’ in Hindi and that is exactly what women come to find here in Room 101, a crisis center for sexually abused women and children, masquerading as a medical facility in a government hospital.
Dilaasa is the first hospital-based crisis centre in India designed to respond to the needs of women facing violence within their homes and families and provide them social and psychological support. Dilaasa believes that every woman has a right to a safe home, right to a life without violence. Established in 2001 at K.B. Bhabha hospital, Bandra, Mumbai, as a joint initiative of BMC’s Public Health Department and the Centre for Enquiry into Health and Allied Themes (CEHAT), a Mumbai-based multi-disciplinary nongovernmental institution promoting and supporting socially-relevant health and related research, action, services and advocacy, it is currently being run independently by the BMC, as a department of the hospital, staffed with social workers and therapists.
As the muffled voices behind the curtain die out, a middle aged woman joins me in the room. Chitra Joshi, a social worker and a counsellor is the main incharge of Dilaasa Foundation. She has listened and counseled hundreds of women and children who have been survivors of domestic violence, marital rape and other forms of abuse. “ We work in two different sectors: Training the doctors and the nursing staff in recognizing symptoms of violence and sexual abuse and providing them the required Psychological First Aid along with counselling survivors that the women and children’s ward send to us thereafter, along with creating the medico-legal paper,” she explains.
The most important factor that allows Dilaasa to do what they do is the fact that they are situated inside a safe public health facility, where women can escape their family members on the pretext of being ill and thus come visit room 101, where their problems are heard and solutions provided. But what happens when a woman refuses to speak up under the pressure of the perpetrator? Or worst if, the perpetrators and other accessories to the crime accompany the victim to the hospital? There was a woman who came in to the hospital with her mother-in-law complaining of constant ache in the abdomen. The symptoms were quite clear. Inflamed private parts, infection, unnatural vaginal discharge; she was a victim of marital rape. Her daunting mother-in-law stood outside insisting she be there when the doctor diagnosed. But the nurse knew better. She was sent to room 101 for further counselling. “ The doctors and hospital staff have certain authority that they can exercise, especially in situations like these. That is why we train them to observe certain patterns from the patient’s history and symptoms and ask them to take the patient into confidence. If a women keeps coming in with multiple abortions to a gynac, has injuries and infections in her private parts, is always reporting fractures, sprains and bruises at the Orthopedic; more often than not, it means that she is being abused. We recognize that and extend the required physical and psychological support immediately,’’says Chitra.
I take a walk around Room 101. Behind the curtain is the extended part of the room serving as the counselling centre, a refuge for the survivors of sexual abuse and ‘legitimate’ rape as per the recent Supreme Court Ruling. There’s no one there other than two other counsellors. In a country where most of its cultures stem from patriarchy, and education along with the awareness of legal rights is a ‘thing for the privileged,’ how many women voluntarily come to Room 101? How many women report such crimes in a nation where justice is delayed and justice providers may themselves be perpetrators?. Chitra states, “I won’t say that the situation is ideal right now but it is much better than it was a decade ,before when there were no concrete laws against sexual and domestic crimes existed in India.Today women are slightly more aware with the advent of technology and activities conducted by NGOs and other institutions. They are more trusting, now that they know the law is on there side.”
While the National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB) reports states that crimes against women came down by 3.1% from 2014 to 2015, these stats cannot be taken at their face value for there is a vast amount of under-reporting that happens in these scenarios. Other than this factor, the biggest challenge Dilaasa has been facing in making a strong case for a survivor, especially in cases of child sexual abuse is the lack of concrete evidence. If there is only fondling of the private parts, if the perpetrator did not indulge in peno-vagial or peno-anal sex, if he did not ejaculate inside or used a condom, or if it is later than 72 hours that medical tests are carried out on the survivor, there is no staunch evidence. Even if it is the woman’s word against the man in the court, and the perpetrator is a family member, more often than not they are told by the police to solve these ‘family matters’ among themselves..
Room 101, functional from 9 am- 4 pm along with a hotline is a not just a crisis center for women but also survivors of child sexual abuse. From a 4-year-old girl sexually abused at her daycare centre, a 9-year-old harassed by her own father to a 16-year-old boy sexually abused by a women authority figure, Chitra narrates horrific instances of child sexual abuse. “These cases are extremely sensitive. We also work and counsel transgenders. Sexual crimes against LGBTQ community are almost never reported,” she adds. Dilaasa carries out counselling and training sessions in three other government hospitals. They also regularly distribute pamphlets to women patients in the hospitals informing them about this facility.
The sepia-tinted walls of Room 101 have heard the prolonged silence of women and children survivors, who have then broken down and slowly risen up, smiling through the adversities, determined to take some action against their perpetrators. The mother walks in with her 5-year-old daughter. They are both scared, but there’s a glimmer of hope in their eyes. It’s time for another session in Room 101, time to seek Dilaasa and justice; both of which are hopefully, served duly.
Illustration by Anjul Dandekar
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