Tales of ‘brilliant’ men, and ‘perfect victims’

When a woman seeks accountability, as is her right, the defence of this man will be taken up by his brood of bros. What we never see is the woman’s trauma

Quiz time: Name the crime in which the accused man, even after conviction, continues to be platformed, celebrated, and rehabilitated.

The Bombay High Court judgment is a remarkable piece of legislation that rejects the notion of a “perfect victim” and should become a template on how to adjudicate on rape cases. (HT Archive)

You will see him at literature festivals, surrounded by a gaggle of wide-eyed admirers. He will routinely appear on television debates expounding on weighty matters, an election result here or economic policy there.

When he writes a book about his time in jail before an obliging high court judge acquitted him, his liberal pals will heap fulsome praise through reviews and back page blurbs. Oh, but he has been acquitted by a court of law, they say.

We are told constantly, that the accused or convicted man is ‘brilliant’; that he has an aura of creative edginess that makes some of his behaviour, well, unusual. And, yes, if that behaviour extends to young women at work, many of whom who are sexually autonomous anyway, then what’s the harm in feeding the great man’s great appetite? Why make a fuss because he didn’t believe a woman’s no?

When that woman seeks accountability, as is her right, the defence of this man will be taken up by his brood of bros. One will talk about his “sexual aura”, another will write long legal pieces filled with terms such as “reasonable doubt”, which will then be endorsed on social media by another political bro with massive following.

What we never see is the woman’s trauma. The law protects her identity and rape trials are mostly in camera. So we never see the common intimidation tactics of defence lawyers. The tittering and giggling by juniors when she replies to a question.

If the judge permits it, then everything is up for questioning. Her clothes, her past and her present sexual activity, her views on consensual sex, whether she smokes or drinks. Much of this invasive, irrelevant line of questioning will then find space in judgments that are open and accessible for all to read.

Thirteen years ago, public anger over an egregious crime that everybody, for once, agreed was an egregious crime shook the government enough to make statutory amendments to the rape and sexual violence law. It expanded the definition of rape to include non-consensual digital penetration into any of a woman’s orifices. It brought in mandatory prison terms that went all the way up to the life sentence. But, points out senior advocate Vrinda Grover, this was the state’s masculine response to public anger. Feminists only asked for certainty of punishment not tougher, harsher or longer prison sentences.

Those now wringing their hands for the conviction of erstwhile Tehelka editor Tarun Tejpal for rape and his sentence of “10 years in jail for a two-minute crime” should remember one thing: the woman’s life has been irrevocably altered for those two minutes that she did not initiate or consent to.

The Bombay High Court judgment is a remarkable piece of legislation that rejects the notion of a “perfect victim” and should become a template on how to adjudicate on rape cases. Yes, Tejpal has a legal right to appeal his conviction. But that right is already accompanied by the drumbeat of social media to establish the ‘truth’, not by a court of law but by a patriarchal society known to celebrate and rehabilitate sexual predators.

Quiz time over, the answer is rape. But the bigger question is this: Why is it so often that women end up serving the sentence? That’s for another quiz.

Namita Bhandare writes on gender. The views expressed are personal