Trouble in Paradise - Shivani Mohan (India) / Khaleej Times 10 January 2010

Often called the 'City Beautiful’ and ‘Pensioner’s Paradise’, Chandigarh, a capital of two states- Punjab and Haryana — is a city that is relaxed, easy paced and idyllic to the core. With the satellite townships of Panchkula in Haryana and Mohali in Punjab, the tricity’s neatly laid out roads, moderate traffic and fairy tale like houses with their trim lawns and welcoming patios, when compared to other cities in India give an impression of orderliness that is almost unreal. The first Prime Minister of India Jawaharlal Nehru, who personally commissioned it to reflect the new nation’s modern, progressive outlook, decreed it to be ‘unfettered by the traditions of the past, a symbol of the nation’s faith in the future.’  The city has been much in news lately, thanks to a sordid tale of horror, depravity and absolute misuse of power of such humungous proportions that it leaves one shocked and angry. This is the perfect example of the unfortunate instance when the upholders and custodians of law and order become its most dangerous defaulters. The Ruchika Girhotra case reads like one of those dark, creepy, spine chilling novels by John Grisham where an unseen force takes on a character’s life and ruthlessly, systematically destroys it step by step. To know this entire drama has unfolded a few blocks away from where I live in peaceful oblivion today is an unnerving experience. Here was a girl all of fourteen, an upcoming Tennis player who along with her friend Aradhana eulogised Steffi Graff and Monica Seles and wanted to make a mark in the sport. Her life took a sharp turn when she was molested by the president of Haryana Lawn Tennis Association, a cop  named S P S Rathore. When Ruchika’s family lodged a complaint to the police, Rathore went on to threaten, terrorise and subjugate the family, asking them to take back the charge. He would send goons to sling abuses outside Ruchika’s house, charged her brother in bogus cases of thefts, sent inflated bills in cognisance with state electricity departments, and even got her expelled from a reputed school, the Sacred Heart Convent where Ruchika had studied since  nursery class. The turn of events was traumatic enough for Ruchika to commit suicide at the young age of seventeen, as she considered herself responsible for the troubles she had caused her family. That this cop went on to become a DGP and was honoured with the President’s medal for meritorious service goes on to show the strange ministrations of the Indian republic. I love Chandigarh for many reasons. Yet there was an unwritten rule that all of us learnt by default. Don’t mess with the civil servants in the city. If anyone managed to pick up a row with a politician, IAS officers, IPS officials or any of their wayward sons, he had had it. With three governments having their base here, a significant percentage of Chandigarh’s population consists of people who are either working for one of these governments or have retired from government service. With not much history to speak of, the people who ruled it since its inception, the IAS officers and IPS officials turned out to be the biggest elite of the city and along with the politicians of the area, formed a dangerous coterie. Punjab saw a violent militancy of massive proportions for most of the eighties that was finally quashed by ‘super cop’ KPS Gill, further propelling the power and clout of the Police department in the region. The economic milieu of a place largely defines its cultural ethos. It is a well known fact that government departments in India are often built on strict hierarchal structures, sycophancy and a culture of  ‘towing the line.’ Important appointments including those of governors are made on the basis of loyalty and compliance rather than competence. It is a perfect symbiosis, a give and take. With so many heavy weight officials in one city, isn’t it an irony that true justice gets boomeranged in different directions and is lost in the meshes of bureaucracy before it can reach the common man. An upright and accomplished police officer such as  Dr. Kiran Bedi had no option but to leave the city within 44 days of getting posted to Chandigarh in 1999 due to the interference of her superior. When asked about her feelings after the episode, Dr Bedi had commented, “I think it is going to be difficult for straightforward police functioning and deliverance of justice to the  common people.” Rupan Deol Bajaj, an ex-IAS officer had to wait for 18 years for a verdict against a charge of sexual harassment she had made against super cop K P S Gill, a time during which she says she faced a lot of coercive pressure to take back her charges in honour of the nation as opposed to her own. K P S Gill was later awarded the Padma Shree. Manu Sharma, the main accused in the Jessica Lall case is the son of a Haryana politician Venod Sharma. R K Sharma another former I P S Officer is facing life sentence for the Shivani Bhatnagar murder case. Even the Chand-Fiza controversy that grew into a public comedy, is an example of how powerful people perceive themselves as above any law and order. No doubt Fiza was partially at fault, but the reason Chander Mohan alias Chand Mohammed could walk in and out of her life feigning selective amnesia as and when he pleased, and get away with it is because he is a former Deputy Chief Minister and the son of another Haryana bigwig Bhajan Lal. I speak of Chandigarh for it is a city I live in and feel deeply about. But I am sure Chandigarh is a microcosm of India and more or less reflects what happens all over India at some level  or the other. Not just the judiciary but the entire power composition in India rests on hollow hypocrisy. And those at the top never practise what they preach. What we urgently need are sweeping police, judicial and administrative reforms that will minimise political interference in the smooth delivery of justice. India has plenty of laws, but many of these laws are outdated and lack  strong enforcers. Thanks to active media intervention, heads have begun to roll on the Ruchika case. But even today hundreds of women are molested everyday on the roads, in local buses, in educational institutions, in hospitals. Foreign female tourists are routinely molested, raped and killed in our tourism hotspots. What do we talk of safety if our children cannot go out and pursue a healthy sport? What governance do we have when its own representatives tamper with sound hearing of justice? What kind of a society are we if it is ingrained in women that if you get into trouble, the last place you should ask for help is in a police station? When will our cities become totally safe for women? Some uneasy questions for all Indians  to answer. But we have to find the answers, and find them fast. Remember Ruchika was just fourteen and at the threshold of a promising life. It could have been anybody’s daughter. Shivani Mohan is an India-based  writer. For comments, write to opinion@khaleejtimes.com Original link: http://khaleejtimes.com/kt-article-display-1.asp?section=opinion&xfile=data/opinion/2010/january/opinion_january60.xml