On May 17th, I found myself facing another visit from two representatives of the Mahila Kalyan Vibhaag (Women’s Welfare Department). They came to my home to check if their previous visit had brought any changes to my family’s behavior. I told them the truth that nothing had changed. I remain locked in my home, isolated, with no contact with the outside world.
The representatives asked me to write a statement on plain paper, noting any changes in my situation and whether I wanted to continue the investigation against my father. Without hesitation, I confirmed that I wanted the investigation to proceed. My father’s abusive behavior has not stopped, and I desperately need help.
My parents, my sister-in-law Princy, and the two representatives gathered together and began questioning me aggressively. They asked if I had sent a Hindi statement I had written the previous day to my teacher. I told them the truth that I hadn’t sent it. How could I? One of the representatives was in my room with me when I wrote it, and I have no means of outside communication. Yet, instead of listening, they accused me of lying. Together, they berated me, saying I had been “given too much education” and declared they would never allow their daughters to study outside the home. My uncle Alok, uncle Nitin, and aunt Dimple joined in, amplifying the verbal assault. Overwhelmed, I was sent back to my room.
Later, I was called out again to write whether I wanted the investigation against my father to continue. As I wrote, my father and uncle Nitin made unsettling comments that left me deeply uncomfortable. One of the representatives took photos of my back, hands, and face in private to check for physical marks of abuse. However, they dismissed the medical report I provided, which clearly states that my left eardrum is damaged, causing hearing difficulties, a direct result of the beatings I’ve endured. I urged them to consider the report, but they claimed they already had it, though I never saw them take it or photograph it.
Before leaving, the representatives promised to return regularly and said they would help me relocate to Naari Niketan (a women’s shelter) by Monday or Tuesday. That day was Friday, and I clung to the hope that their words would lead to action.
But the day wasn’t over. That evening, my father sent my uncle Nitin to my room. What followed was a chilling lecture. He told me I was wrong to report my father’s abuse, defending my father’s actions and even justifying honor killings. He claimed that girls who are killed in such cases “must have done something wrong.” Then, he said, “Tell David about the history of Uttar Pradesh,” a clear reference to the region’s history of violence, a thinly veiled threat. His final words were “Nothing can be done now. You will always be locked up like this.”
