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Still Haunted By Hate

For the nuns raped at Jhabua, the big challenge now is to regain their faith in God and humanity

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Still Haunted By Hate
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The nation may have forgotten September 23, 1998— the night when a group ofnuns in Jhabua were set upon by an unruly mob and four of the younger nuns raped. But thehurt lingers on. Outlook tracked down the rape victims of Jhabua who now live in aconvent in south Chennai. They are a shattered lot who cannot even come to terms with whyGod had failed them on that fateful night. Two of the victims, Sister Tracie and SisterMaria (names changed) agreed to speak about how their lives changed after the fatefulnight.

"I have been angry with God and for long I didn’t look at His face. We hadprayed so hard, even at the last moment we were in the chapel crying for help. After ithappened I was in a daze. For a long time people thought I was going mad," recollectsSr Tracie. She was the youngest of the nuns who were violated. And ever since, she hasbeen shutting out the inquisition of insistent well- wishers.

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Says Fr M. A. James, director of the Chennai- based Dhyana Ashram, a Jesuit- runcounselling- cum- retreat centre, where the nuns spent almost a month in curativecounselling sessions: "The question was always the same: ‘Where was God when weneeded Him and why did He permit such a thing to happen? ’ I had to keep telling themnot to confuse Man’s evil with the will of God. Somebody who commits a sin does notask for God’s permission. I also told them that as missionaries, they had undertakento accept new cultures, alien values. Therefore, though this incident came in the rawestpossible manner, they must accept it."

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The biggest challenge for Fr James was to restore them from their state of brokenness,to wanting to fight back if the same thing happened all over again. And also to renewtheir faith in God and humanity. Jhabua had violated the latter more than anything else.

Dressed in a blue sari, Sr Tracie recalls the horror of September 23. "First SrDorothy was dragged out by them. Then I heard a cry— the kind emitted by an animalbeing killed. I thought that she had died. Minutes later, I died too," she whispers.Awakening brought no hope. No olive leaf either. Her return to the world of the living,she says, was one punctuated by distrust, suspicion and hate.

As a portent of things to come, the dog barked continuously that night. Always scaredof sleeping alone, Sr Tracie asked her superior if she could share the room with anothernun. It was a plea faithfully put forth every night since she first stepped into Jhabua inJuly ’98. "Each one of us had our own room here— something that I havenever been accustomed to. So I used to ask her every day if I could share the room withanother sister and every day she would tell me that there was nothing to be frightened of,that the people in the village were good people and that they would never harm anybody,least of all a nun".

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It was on this reassurance that Sr Tracie fuelled her last tryst with trust. When theattackers first banged the doors, she kept telling her superior to open them because thepeople outside were saying that someone was ill and needed medicine. "I couldn’tunderstand why she was refusing to let them in just because they did not have a letterfrom the priest who lived nearby. I misunderstood their desperation," she rememberssadly. But for one who had just begun learning the Hindi alphabet, it did not take long tounderstand the real intentions of the mob outside.

A man holding a huge boulder in his hands made the visitors’ intentions amplyclear. Later at the identification parade, when the nuns were brought face to face withtheir attackers, they were laughed at. Sr Tracie seems to be the most shattered. Says SrMaria: "Yes, she took it to heart and mind more than the rest of us. She comes from avillage in Tamil Nadu and her upbringing has been such. She is the only religious personin her family and she joined against the will of her parents. Besides, she was theyoungest and this was her first exposure to mission experience. This incident wascompletely unexpected. While it shook us beyond belief, it shattered her completely."

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The "joker in the pack", as Sr Tracie was fondly referred to by her superiorsand contemporaries, had left her laughter behind. In the months that followed, sleepvisited her rarely. The violent memories of the night of September 23 kept coming back toher. Shouts of "open the door", hammered by the hate- inebriated, still ring inher ear. Also her superior’s pleading: " Kuch mat karo (don’t doanything). They are all very young."

Recalls a confused Sr Tracie: "It seemed as though we were the criminals. We cameaway filled with shame. I do not trust men. They are all the same." Then again, thethought rankles: "I did not choose God, He chose me to serve Him. He should havetaken care of me." She is rattled by her "near- death experience" andcounsellor Fr James feels that all of her views— especially those pertaining tomen— cannot be challenged as yet, as she is still not ready for it.

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Both Sr Tracie and Sr Maria are in their twenties. The former joined the Jhabua conventonly in July 1998. The latter had reached the mission less than a month before theincident took place. Both sisters were on their first mission posting. In fact, for theForeign Mission Sisters, which has its headquarters in France and has just 45 nuns inIndia, it was a first- time foray into uncharted territory in north India.

Our work has been largely restricted to south India," says Sr Anastasia, member ofthe mission’s general council. "So when the Bishop of Indore requested us to setup base there, we were only too happy, because our motto has always been to go where noone else wants to. The Jhabua house was set up only in October ’97. The fact that theplace did not have roads, phone connections, medical facilities did not deter us. Inretrospect, we feel that we should have done a little more home-work about the place. Wefeel that we should not have sent such young sisters to such a remote place where theculture was completely alien to us."

The congregation, which had earlier decided to fight back by returning to their Jhabuamission outpost, has now changed its mind. Because an assortment of violent images hastravelled home with the nuns. Two subsequent trips to the place to collect theirbelongings had the nuns crying inconsolably. Surprisingly, while faith itself has comeclose to biting the dust, the call to religious vocation has stayed firm.

One of the first things that happened, recounts Sr Mary Josephine, regional superior ofthe congregation, "was the sisters and their respective families asking us if theywould have to return home. This because they felt that the vow of chastity had beendefiled. We had to reassure them that whatever happened had no bearing on the vow ofchastity as it was no fault of theirs."

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Congregational and family solidarity aside, there is also the niggling feeling thatbesmirched by this incident, the victims have now been rendered unfit for the outsideworld. The sense of adventure associated with their first mission posting has run dry too,and so has the fount of forgiveness. "If they get away scot- free, it will be amatter of much sadness," says a more practical Sr Maria. "But there should besome sort of punishment so that they live to regret their act."

The case is likely to come up for hearing in the Indore High Court in early March. Thecongregation heads are hoping that after noting their statements, the court allows thenuns to pursue their work. Sr Maria would prefer mission work in south India now, while SrTracie hopes that she will one day be Madagascar-bound. None want to go back to missionstations in north India. Says Sr Tracie: "We should go where people want us."

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Meanwhile, "the resurrection after the suffering" that the counsellor-priests have been promising seems a long time in coming. And the nightmare of September 23still haunts the victims.

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