For 15 years, as she moved from house to house to provide security for her family, Bilkis Bano waited for assurances from the courts that the men who raped her and murdered many of her relatives would spend the rest of their lives in prison.
That finally happened in 2017. In the years that followed, says Bano, she “slowly learned to live with the trauma” of the communal slaughter that ravaged the Indian state of Gujarat in 2002 and devastated her family. She and her husband were now ready to settle into a new home near relatives and resume their goat and buffalo business.
Then, last week, the 11 criminals were released, greeted with candy and garlands.
“The trauma of the last 20 years has taken hold of me again,” Bano said in a statement released by his lawyer on Wednesday. “I’m still stunned.” She has stopped talking to anyone outside the home, says her husband, Yakub Rasul. “They were released,” she says. “We’re wondering what they’re going to do to us.”
The case of Bilkis Bano, a Muslim woman who was raped and had her three-year-old daughter killed by a Hindu mob, is a tragic reflection of India’s stalled progress in combating violence against women and the deep divisions generated by growing Hindu nationalism.
The early release of the convicts comes as the country marks ten years of the horrific gang rape of a young girl on a bus in the capital, New Delhi, which sparked nationwide protests and prompted a national soul-searching. The result has been tougher laws, police reforms, broader protections for women, and an ongoing effort to change attitudes.
“I have a request for every Indian: Can we change the mindset towards our women in everyday life?” Prime Minister Narendra Modi said in a speech on the 75th anniversary of India’s independence last week. “It is important that in our speech and conduct we do nothing that diminishes the dignity of women.”
But the men’s release on the same day as Modi’s speech — and while the government faces criticism for holding activists and dissident voices for long periods — showed how easily political machinations can undermine justice efforts.
Modi was the top official in Gujarat at the time of the sectarian violence of 2002. Then, as now, he was accused by critics of encouraging and exploiting the country’s religious polarization to cement the Hindu base of his BJP party.
Some analysts have considered the men’s release after about 15 years in prison linked to elections scheduled for December in Gujarat, where the BJP has been in power for two decades.
“Whether they committed the crime or not, I don’t know,” said CK Raulji, a ruling party lawmaker who sat on a review committee on the case that recommended his release. Raulji even suggested that the men’s position as high-caste Hindus weighed in favor of their release. “Their family activity was very good; they are Brahmins,” he said. “And like Brahmins, their values were also very good.”
Later, with backlash, he claimed his comments — which were videotaped — were misinterpreted.
In the spring, India’s Supreme Court instructed the state government to hear the men’s request for release. Although the state changed its policy in 2014 to bar leniency to perpetrators of crimes such as rape and murder, the men asked that the case be considered under the policy that was in effect at the time of the crimes.
The review committee, made up of members of the ruling party, decided that the men should be released, and the state government accepted the recommendation. Authorities indicated that the good behavior of those in prison was a factor in their release. “It is up to the government to take appropriate action in the case based on its merits,” said Raj Kumar, secretary of the interior.
Bano’s case stems from a horrific period of sectarian violence when Modi was Gujarat’s chief minister. A series of riots erupted after nearly 60 Hindu pilgrims were burned alive on a train. An initial inquiry declared the fire to be accidental, while later commissions and court proceedings concluded that it was a conspiracy by a Muslim mob.
Violent retaliation swept through much of Gujarat, leaving more than 1,000 people dead, mostly Muslims.
Bano was repeatedly raped by her attackers, despite her pleas that she was five months pregnant. One of them took his three-year-old daughter and “killed the child by crushing him to the ground”, investigators testified. In all, 14 members of her family were killed as they tried to flee. Several had their heads cut off; others were buried “in a salt pit” to decompose.
Over the next two decades, Modi’s advisers assiduously tried to wean him away from accusations that his government turned a blind eye as Hindu mobs raged. These officials called the conspiracy allegations by a “triad of opposition parties to the BJP, some journalists and some NGOs” to tarnish the current prime minister’s image.
Today, a narrow street that winds between mud-covered houses and abandoned farmland leads to the spot where residents say Bano and his family were attacked on March 3, 2002. A rocky hill with rough vegetation dominates the forested area to where, according to them, the woman was dragged and raped. Cows swim in the waters of a nearby river.
About 10 kilometers down the hill is Bano’s former home in the Hindu-dominated village of Randhikpur. It is now occupied by fruit vendors and stores that sell wholesale grain. Across the road is where Radheshyam Shah, one of the 11 convicts, was greeted by his wife and sisters last week with homemade sweets.
“People are saying, ‘They gave candy to the damned,'” says Ashish Shah, Radheshyam’s younger brother. “Can’t we celebrate?” The eldest, who had returned from prison three days earlier, said over the phone that he was innocent and left with his family on a pilgrimage to Rajasthan.
For Bano and his family, the welcome message was entirely different. “If you welcome these rapists back into society, what will happen to the women of this country?” asks Rasul.
