They survived acid attacks to triumph in life
Once told to hide their faces, these women have left their past behind and star in fashion shows, documentaries
LUCKNOW: “Outer beauty is momentary. What will you do by just being bodily beautiful? Even the ones who threw acid at us were beautiful from outside. Yes, I am beautiful, my soul is beautiful. The pain remains but the scars have gone. They can no more confine me to the four walls of my home. I am ready to fly, alone or with my companion.”
— From the homepage of Sheroes.in, a humanitarian initiative that seeks to aid acid attack survivors.
Once upon a time, these women shuddered to look into the mirror. Today, their faces are out there, across media, for all to see.
Hundreds of acid attack survivors are refusing to see themselves as mere victims, with self-pity and loneliness as their companions. They have found renewed confidence in the Internet age, experimenting with make-up and new hairdos before posting selfies that evoke a flood of compliments from admirers across the country.
Take the case of 19-year-old Anshu Rajput, whose beatific smile never fails to impress her horde of admirers on Facebook and Instagram.
Anshu giggles when asked about a particular image that has become a big hit with her online followers. “That photograph of me in a blue top, with my hair open, was taken in Odisha recently. People like the way I dress,” she says.
The smile on her face does little to distract from the fact that she is partially blind. Anshu lost sight in both her eyes because of the acid attack but some vision returned to one of them a few months later. The doctors at Sankara Nethralaya in Chennai, one of the country’s best eye hospitals, have offered her some hope of a cure in the near future. Meanwhile, she has decided to pursue her two passions, dancing and music. Whenever the teenager finds herself getting low, she picks up her acoustic guitar and plays her favourite tune: Tum bin jiya jaaye na.
Around 206 acid attacks happen in India every year according to National Crime Records Bureau 2016 report, with the targets usually being women. Anshu, for instance, was attacked by her 55-year-old neighbour whose advances she had rebuffed.
Ashish Shukla, director of Chaanv Foundation, a Delhi-based organisation that works with acid attack survivors, says women like Anshu are finally coming into their own. “It has been a traumatic journey for these women. But while they were once asked to cover their faces on television, many now appear in documentaries and fashion shows.”
Alok Dixit, the journalist-turned-founder of the Stop Acid Attack Campaign, even found a loving wife in 28-yearold Laxmi , another survivor. Currently on a visit to Spain with four acid attack survivors for the screening of a documentary on their struggle, he has been posting photographs on Facebook to an overwhelming response from netizens.
Meanwhile, Laxmi , who is now mother to a two-year-old daughter called Peehu, has been keeping busy too. “As most survivors hail from rural areas, we decided to gift them kurtis and leggings to make them look smarter. Just see the confidence with which they walk the ramp now!” she exclaims.
Acid attack survivors have participated in several fashion shows over the last three years, the first of which was held in Lucknow by the Hindustan Times in 2014. And now, exposure to the world has become the mainstay of their image makeover and rehabilitation programme. “They receive invites to fashion shows and cultural events from places across the country. As and when we get the opportunity, we try to send along a fresh batch of women,” says Shukla.
Anshu, who had never travelled by air in her life, recently flew to Odisha with ten others like her on an invitation from chief minister Naveen Patnaik. “We made so much noise when the flight took off! They had told us in our childhood that we would die if we looked out of the window, so we did not even dare to do that,” she gushes.
Disconcerting as the curious glances from their co-passengers may have been, the warm welcome they received at the airport (complete with bouquets and hugs) more than made up .
“Hum Anshu ko netaji kehke pukaarte hain kyunki woh apne tashan mein rehti hain (We call Anshu our leader because she carries herself with style),” says one of her companions. That’s clear from the way the teenager is confidently moving around Lucknow’s Sheroes Hangout, the second cafe in the state run by acid attack survivors.
So, is romance in the air for Anshu? It can wait, she says, because her priority lies in helping poor children.
Others, however, are not as willing to keep Cupid at bay. Two acid attack survi-
vors, Peehu and Kavita, recently married their sweethearts and have been living happily ever since.
Rani’s story is arguably the most romantic of all. She found her lifemate at the Sankara Nethralaya, where she underwent three eye operations. “We are in love,” says the 25-year-old, who resides at the Sheroes Home in Noida. “Wedding bells will ring once my surgeries are done.”
When asked if her love story is as heartwarming as Laxmi’s, Rani laughs. “It’s more so! Saroj, who is a medical representative, loves me just the way I am. He visits me all the time.”
Rani, who was bedridden for four years after the acid attack, remained in pain for nearly a decade that followed. She has already undergone five reconstructive surgeries, and awaits more. Some love was long overdue in her life. Not everybody is as lucky, though. “There are many like us who still remain hidden within the four walls of their homes,” says Laxmi. “Sheroes has become the address for acid attack victims to reach out for legal and emotional support, but many are yet to contact us. Meanwhile, acid attacks — along with the unfettered sale of acid — continue unabated.”