Will they? Other civil servants fighting similar battles say the going is only getting tougher for those who accuse their male colleagues of harassment, despite the complaints committees set up in all government departments to hear such cases. Take Fantry Mei Jaswal, a '76 batch officer of the elite central services. For two years now, she has been struggling to get her department to take her complaint against her former boss, then chief commissioner of central excise Kailash Sethi, seriously. Says Jaswal, "At first, he was very friendly, always dropping into my room for a cup of coffee and a chat. I tolerated it, even though he did not make a habit of visiting any of the other three commissioners under him, all men."
Sethi was "testing the waters", says Jaswal. "He dared not touch me—I was 52 then and had two grown-up daughters—but he'd keep passing comments that I didn't welcome, things like 'You are so attractive' or 'You dress so well' which I consider unprofessional." Jaswal says she tried to fend him off as politely as she could, but Sethi was persistent. "He asked me to accompany him on an official visit. I asked him, 'Why only me, why not the other three commissioners?' Still, I tried to maintain my dignity as best as I could even as his visits continued."
The worst thing about sexual harassment is it's so subtle that you can't really put your finger on it. "It's an experiential thing," as one NCW report put it. Jaswal agrees: "He didn't do anything like touch me, but his visits made me feel uncomfortable. He'd either sit too close, and once he came into my room straight after playing golf, in his shorts." Another time, Jaswal recalls, he praised her for refurbishing a conferenceroom. "He said he'd name the conference hall after me. I protested but he went ahead and ordered a plaque saying 'Fantry Mei Jaswal Room' and it went over the door despite my telling the officer in charge that I felt very uncomfortable about it."
And then one day Jaswal decided she'd had enough. "We were discussing a brief that I had prepared for the chairman. I asked him, 'Is there anything else I can bring, sir?' And he replied, 'Get your make-up kit along'." Jaswal says she felt so humiliated that she decided to make an issue of it. "I told him: 'I am sorry, sir. But you will have to apologise. He didn't take me seriously at first, saying stuff like 'I'm only joking and you're getting serious.' But I insisted, and he eventually had to make me an apology in front of my colleagues."
Jaswal says Sethi didn't forget that humiliation. "He began harassing me at work, even though government work is too structured for him to harass me directly. He'd hold up postings to my section, transferred people under me so that I couldn't function. I tried to complain to the chairman or members, but they did not take any notice."
That's when Jaswal decided to approach the revenue secretary. "She was very kind and heard me out, but asked me to think carefully before submitting a written complaint because of the consequences I would likely face: the stigma, isolation from colleagues, the family pressures." Sethi was transferred out of the department, but Jaswal says his harassment didn't stop. "He wrote a suo motu note on my confidential report which was very adverse and contradicted the excellent report he'd given me the previous year. And he kept relaying threats to her through other colleagues saying 'Fantry ko mein dekh loonga'." Jaswal says she received anonymous calls in the night. Shaken, she finally decided to file her written complaint against Sethi.
Although the ministry of social justice had asked all departments to set up complaints committees on sexual harassment as far back as 1998, Jaswal says hers was the first complaint to come up in the department. It took 45 days after Jaswal's complaint for the committee to be formed. There were five members in the committee—three women officers and one male, besides a member of a women's organisation. The hearings were informal, and conducted in the deputy secretary's room, who was also the chairwoman.
On the very first hearing, Jaswal says she felt the odds stacked against her. "The member from the women's organisation—Manorama Bawa of the All India Women's Conference—asked me to give the names of officers who would certify my moral character, clarifying these should be my seniors and not subordinates who I might influence. I protested, why did I have to produce a moral certificate for them to hear a case of sexual harassment?"
The hearings dragged on for nearly a year, according to Jaswal, with her appearing before the committee three or four times to cross-examine Sethi's witnesses. When the report was finally ready, in September 2004, Jaswal was not given a copy. "I was told by my friends that it was a very wishy-washy report, and Sethi had been let off with an oral warning. Something like, 'Change your behaviour because it is likely to be misconstrued'." After reminding the department three or four times to let her have a copy of the report, Jaswal eventually went to court on the plea that it was her right to see what the report said about her case. Meanwhile, Sethi has been promoted as member of the central board of excise and customs. "How can he be promoted when the case is not yet over as far as I am concerned?" says Jaswal, swearing she won't give up the fight until she gets justice through the courts, if not her department.
Another probationer from the same service, Rajayashri Wagharay, had to fight a legal battle for 12 years before her then boss, S.D. Khare, was convicted for sexualharassment. When Rajayashri went to pay a farewell visit to Khare, then collector of customs at Sahar Airport, he forced her to get into his official car on the pretext of showing her some files in his other office, and kept her there despite her unwillingness till 6 pm. When she insisted on leaving, Khare snatched her handbag and catching hold of her shoulders pushed her down on to the sofa saying "seeing a naughty movie will put you in the mood", and getting on to the sofa with her. When Rajayashri started shaking and sobbing, Khare held her down, asking why she was being so difficult while other lady officers were "so dynamic and obliging". His other line of persuasion was to inform her that "he was no ordinary collector and would see how far she could go in her career in the department". Rajayashri, with help from her husband and friends, managed to find the stamina to keep fighting for over a decade before the Bombay high court sentenced Khare to six months' imprisonment and a fine of Rs 25,000.
But women like Wagharay and Jaswal are rare in the civil service, says Ranjana Kumari of the Mahila Dakshita Samiti. "Most of them don't want to give us even a written complaint or use their name because they are so afraid of the consequences." Ranjana recalls the case of a joint secretary from the home ministry who came to the NCW a year or two ago. "She told us there was someone in her office who was slipping pornographic material and condoms into her drawer. And when she started locking up her room, she'd find the material slipped under her door."
The NCW urged the lady to file a written complaint. When she didn't oblige, they suggested going on a march into the corridors of the home ministry office. The petrified officer decided to seek a transfer back to her West Bengal cadre instead, withdrawing her two children from their Delhi school.
"Sexual harassment is a mental cruelty whose effects can be more devastating than rape," Ranjana says, pointing out the case of a defence ministry officer who was brought to her in severe depression because of her boss's sexual harassment. "He did the usual things, asking her to go on trips out of town with him, calling her at home and disconnecting the phone if her husband picked it up." The officer, points out Ranjana, didn't know where to turn, with her husband getting suspicious, and fearing that she would lose her job if she complained about her boss' behaviour. She just collapsed, crying all the time and stopped working until someone brought her to me. I suggested she file a written complaint, but she was too scared."
Vyas agrees. "All the six government officers who have approached me so far about sexual harassment want to keep their identity undisclosed," she says. "It's only natural, because they lose out on all fronts if they complain: the boss may get vindictive, colleagues will start maligning her and her family will be distressed for her coming out with it in the open." For such cases, she delivers a rough-and-ready justice. "I simply call the man she complains against and that's enough to put a stop to it," she says.
Bajaj similarly has faith in her sheer presence to deter sexual harassment in her department of revenue in the Punjab government. "Many women come to me about the sexual harassment they face in government jobs, and I tell them they have only two options: to swallow their humiliation and live with a loss of self-esteem for the rest of their lives, or to fight back at any cost for which they will need mental toughness, stamina and family support. But if they choose to fight, I tell them they must never retreat or else they do a disservice to all women workers."
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