Her face concealed in a dupatta, with only her eyes visible, a 13-year-old hurries through the narrow lanes of Fauzi Colony, Old Rohtak, as if on a mission. It takes her less than five minutes to borrow a few notebooks from her friend’s house, after which she hurries back home, this time taking a different route, skirting a group of boys lounging at the crossroads. Since her sister Nikita’s death, Kirti Duhan has become even more wary when she steps outside. It was allegedly the daily harassment that she faced in the neighbourhood that drove Nikita and her friend Madhu, who lived a few houses away, to commit suicide last month. A Class VII student at Banda Bahadur Public School in Rohtak, Haryana, Kirti too is aware of the “precautions” she needs to take once on the road: the right clothes, the dupatta draped modestly around her, muted laughter and a gait that does not draw any attention. The survival code includes not talking to young boys on the street, and an awareness that she has “to uphold the family pride” at all times. “My sister too took all precautions. She never spoke to strangers or sat with boys in her class. She never raised her voice or laughed loudly, but still the boys followed her. Once, one of the women in the neighbourhood taunted her for keeping her hair open and told my mother that Nikita was being spoilt by studying with city girls. She was very upset. I had to cheer her up by making a card for her,” she says. Kirti leaves home only to go to school, and is always accompanied by her father. Sitting outside his modest one-storey house, Sukbir Singh (52), a former Army sergeant and now a driver with the Delhi Transport Corporation, tell us he has not been able to sleep since his 16-year-old daughter’s death, his nights wracked by the question: why did Nikita take her own life? “She was a very strong girl. She told her mother about this boy Lokesh who was stalking her. I went to his house once, but could not trace him. All we asked her was to be a little careful but I wonder if we pressured her too much,” he says. Singh regrets forbidding Nikita from keeping a diary. “Maybe I was scared of neighbours reading it. Had she not discontinued it, I would have at least known what happened,” he says. He agrees that the girls had to be careful while stepping out — “This is a small colony where everyone knows everyone” — but said that he never stopped them from studying. “I understand the value of education. Nikita scored 97 per cent marks in her last examination. The only restriction was that they could not go out with friends for a movie or anything. That we do not allow in villages like ours,” he says. On the streets of these urban villages in the old quarter of Rohtak, young girls and women are never sure-footed — there are catcalls to duck, intrusive comments to avoid. Above all, there is the fear that they will be held responsible by the neighbourhood elders for inviting the abuse. Here, the rules for young girls have no room for ambiguity. They urge them to remain invisible, A Class XII student in Sabzi Mandi, Manju is getting ready for class in a nearby academy — the name given to a crop of informal institutions, part school and part coaching centres, affiliated to the CBSE, where children are trained to write entrance tests as well as in the Class XI and Class XII syllabus. Manju opens her drawer and takes out a kajal stick, but changes her mind. “My uncle got this from Vietnam but I cannot apply it here. If I wear kajal and step out, the women will say that I am trying to charm the men,” she says. The pairs of jeans and tops that her uncle got for her are a no-no too. She wears them at home and dances before the mirror, she says with a giggle. “We are told that once you step out of your house, your pride is what you need to shield. If a boy holds your hand, you will become impure and no one would want you as a daughter-in-law. So, I concentrate on my studies and ignore the boys who come behind me on bikes. I change the route I take to the academy, because I do not want to confront them,” she says. Her mother Kavita, a housewife, had to fight with her husband to send her to one of the academies. “I want her to be strong and independent. I want her to study and leave this place eventually,” she says. Rohtak is a city with five universities, shiny showrooms, factories and business centres, but a gulf of age-old conservatism separates it from villages like Fauzi Colony. Most of the residents here are from the nearby villages of Pakasma and Gugahidi, who bought land to move closer to the city. Many work as drivers or helpers in factories and shops in Rohtak city. “The families here still have a feudal mindset. But the girls want to study and make a name for themselves. For them it is an everyday fight,” says Karan Goial, DSP Rohtak. The four men arrested for the suicide, between 18 and 22 years of age, told the police that they followed the girls and commented on them “just for fun”, says Goial. Anju Hooda, a 16-year-old student from Garnauthi village, who wants to become a doctor, says she can empathise with the pressure the two girls faced. “The boys follow us, some even try to click our pictures when we are travelling in an auto or walking the streets. They shout out their cellphone numbers or write it on chits and throw them into our bags. It is not easy to raise your voice, since we know that people would blame us. Even if a male classmate comes to our house, they create a fuss. The only way out is to study hard and make a life in a better place,” she says. At the many academies dotting Rohtak, girls from nearby villages and cities turn up in droves. “They want to perform well and lead a better life. They are more sincere and hard-working. They ask smart questions, their work is always complete, they are never distracted and they are regular at class. They talk of becoming doctors, astronauts and teachers,” says Chand Singh, director of Vidya Academy in Old Rohtak near Sabzi Mandi, which Nikita attended. But many are married off as soon as they complete their education, he says. Those who have more support go on to study in Rohtak or Gurgaon. It is 1 pm in the afternoon and the day’s classes have given over at Maharani Kishori Girls’ College. As the girls exit from the college gates, young men on bikes slow down near them. Dressed in colorful T-shirts, hair spiked with gel, they call out “Oye heroine,” before speeding off. But the girls do not seem rattled much. “We usually ignore them, but if they cross the line, we also give it back,” says Neha, a BA student who lives in a hostel in the city. Rohtak’s is also a story of women like her, who have gained confidence by living away from the codes of community and family. It is a place of hardy sportswomen like hockey player Mamta Kharab, and Sakshi Mallik, who won a silver in wrestling at the just-finished Commonwealth Games. “I was shocked to hear about the suicide. I was born and brought up in Mokhra village in Rohtak, a place where girls do not step out of their houses. But I knew I was different,” says the 22-year-old. She explains how essential it is for a woman in such a conservative set-up to be strong. “If you start getting affected by what people say, you will never reach anywhere. When I started out, the society ridiculed me for stepping into the akhara. Many people said that this is a sport for boys, no one would marry me because I played with bare legs in the akhara but I had my family by my side. I ignored the taunts, the comments and kept practising. Now, since I have won the medal, no one can dare say anything,” she says. For Kirti and many young girls in Rohtak, the hope is that their education will help them escape this life. From stories of relatives who have left the state to work in bigger cities and countries as blue-collar labour, they have spun their dreams of a better life. Kirti, like her sister, wants to be able to score enough to gain entry into a college in America. “There, I would not be ridiculed for wearing the clothes I like. I would not be sneered at. I can wear make-up, wear heels, cut my hair short, wear nice dresses and step out without keeping the ‘rulebook’ in mind,” she says.
