It was the summer of 2016 and a day like any other was lazily unfolding in a low-income neighbourhood in Delhi where fourteen-year-old Lipika lived with her father and three siblings. Their mother, having grown tired of their father’s alcohol and violence, had exited the family years ago. Their father was at the factory where he worked as a tailor; and the oldest brother was also at work. Hence, Lipika found her self at home alone with her two younger siblings wondering how to pass her time. So, she decided she might as well pay a visit to Sonu, her slightly older neighbour whom she had known for years and often visited. But that day, the visit took a turn Lipika had not anticipated. That day, at his house, Sonu abused Lipika.

The neighbours immediately informed Lipika’s father of what had occurred who, in turn, filed a police complaint. The Child Welfare Committee referred Lipika’s case to HAQ: Centre for Child Rights, and that’s how we got involved. With HAQ’s support person present, Lipika embarked upon a long and arduous journey of recovery and rebuilding.

Lipika’s grades at school, which were already low, fell significantly. She found it impossible to understand the subjects and, entirely unable to cope, she refused to go to school for 2-3 months in 2018. The support person got her enrolled in the school again but she could not take the pressure and would spend her days wandering around the school premises. Finally, her schooling came to a complete halt.

Once the neighbourhood realised that Lipika stayed home, various families started making her do menial housework in return for minimal remuneration. One lady, Manju, a former friend of Lipika’s mother’s friend, was particularly active in Lipika’s exploitation. Manju began to take Lipika on “work trips.” The support person discovered via conversations with Lipika that these trips mostly involved attending weddings and gatherings where Lipika had to wear scant clothing and walk and dance about for people’s voyeuristic entertainment.

To break this cycle of violence, the support person approached Lipika’s school principal for a re-enrolment but the principal refused to provide any support and handed over Lipika’s transfer certificate. Refusing to relent, the support person took Lipika to the Child Welfare Committee (CWC), which ordered the school to admit not only Lipika but also her sister who had dropped out of school. Additionally, the support person got Lipika enrolled in a nearby NGO that provided vocational training and tuition. Despite these efforts, Lipika was struggling to find a space that met her unique needs and interests and, eventually, stopped going to the vocational training centre, showed little interest in counselling sessions, or in school.

One day, the support person received a call from Lipika’s father saying that Lipika had gotten involved in a neighbourhood fight and had been subject to severe physical violence by Manju.

The support person immediately filed a police complaint. She recalls the police saying, “aapas ka mamla hai (this is an internal matter).” The police suggested that the support person take Lipika to the hospital for a medical examination on her own, with no police support. It was only through the consistent assertiveness of the support person that the police became more attentive and offered to keep an eye on the situation. The neighbourhood, however, continued to remain toxic and Lipika continued to live in a hostile and conflict-ridden space.

Pinky, another one of Lipika’s neighbours who used to exploit her, had a sudden and suspicious change of heart and began to extend support to Lipika. It turned out, though, that Pinky’s husband had a sexual assault case filed against him by three women in the neighbourhood, including Manju. Pinky’s motivation in supporting Lipika was limited to extracting revenge against Manju and her two companions.

The support person counselled Pinky against contacting Lipika. The police was told to provide protection to Lipika. Lipika’s father, who would often drink and then physically beat his children, was put through rigorous counseling. He shifted various houses with his children to find a way out of such ongoing and repetitive abuse against Lipika. And finally, since Lipika rejected formal school education entirely, she was enrolled again in vocational classes.

Lipika’s story is ongoing but finally she is not facing further abuse and is showing gradual improvement. She is learning beauty culture and takes a keen interest in the skill. She has a burning ambition to acquire a job and become financially independent. The support person observes that Lipika is still often gullible before kindness, can display stubbornness and may be holding an anger that often translates into indifference. At the same time, she is stronger, her crying spells have reduced, and she is calmer. An ongoing process of healing continues.

The fissures in our social fabric into which children – the children at the margins even more so – slip into are deep and many. The social institution of the family with reference to resources, safety, and emotional care, was already compromised in Lipika’s case. The community space of the neighbourhood had fostered a culture of violence within which Lipika experience sexual assault, economic exploitation, commercial sexualisation, and physical abuse. The educational institution of the school failed to provide an impromptu response of sensitivity in the matter of Lipika’s enrolment. And finally, the police had to be coaxed and prodded by the support person into fulfilling its bare minimum duties. How many structures failed Lipika for which she paid the price not only in the form of singular instances of abuse, but also through the much longer, complicated, and inward process of suturing together one’s sense of self?

Layers of violence compound upon children. Lipika’s story highlights the pervasiveness of apathy, indifference and, even comfort, towards violence running through our spaces and systems, running into our own minds. That is where vulnerable children slip – through and into the cracks and fissures cutting in between our social-institutional-state structures.

*All names have been changed

Story from the field by: Khushnoor Bano
Written by: Tamanna
Edited by: Tamanna