Mumbai, Sept 4: The principal of a prominent Mumbai co-ed college gas refused to let a survivor of an acid attack by her husband start a fellowship with the college, afraid her interaction with students could put girls off marriage, reports Mumbai Mirror. The woman's project on ‘normative beauty' was also rejected because it questioned the more socially acceptable idea of good looks.
For 37-year-old Shirin Juwaley, who was attacked by her husband when she was 24 and just two months into the marriage, the college's rejection was just another reminder of the kind of social alienation suffered routinely by burns victims.
The college principal, who claimed to be "protecting her flock" from the "ugliness of life" was at least blatantly honest in her dismissal, says Shirin, others are polite in their rejection.The newspaper said it got in touch with the college principal but she refused to discuss the matter and denied having interacted with Shirin or her associate.
The identity of the college and its principal is being withheld on Shirin's request, who says that after years of struggle she has reached a stage in life where she is at peace with herself and that demonising a particular college or a principal will go against the spirit of her work.
In 1998, Shirin lost her face, use of eye-lids and nose after her husband flung acid on her. Thirteen years and 16 reconstructive surgeries later, she now has a nose, eye lids that function - though her eyes water when she is out in the sun - and a radiant smile. Most importantly, she is confident enough to go out without a burqa and is strong enough to help similar victims cope with their condition. But rejection still bothers her.
“Not just this college, I was denied entry at the McDonald's in Fort because of the way I look. A little while back on a local train, a college girl freaked out when she saw me and got some of her friends to stare at me. Mothers shield their children from me. People would recoil at the first glimpse of the burnt flesh on my arms under the burqa. It goes on,” she shrugs.
“We have a strange attitude towards disfigurement in our country. And it cuts across class, community, culture. Disfigurement is not a disease, it is a condition. Most people don't realise that.”Shirin was a regular college girl, who “wanted to get married, have kids”. She remembers, how even as a young woman, she was conscious of the fact that she was not conventionally beautiful. “I was dark and curly haired. No proposals came my way,” she says.
Marriage happened on Valentine's Day but within a few months Shirin realised incompatibility was a serious issue. She wanted a divorce, her husband did not. And one day, when she was coming back to her mother's place, he waited for her near the stairwell, wearing a pair of gloves and protective eyewear. And before she could react, he had flung acid on her and fled.
Shirin can still go through every chilling detail of what happened after that - the weeks of no sleep because she had no eye lids, the breathing problems, the excruciating pain, the sheer trauma of being confined to home and the unsparing looks and pointed questions.
“What I missed most was the sun on my face. I also could not bear to look people in the eye and see the disgust,” she says, adding, “In a weird way, when I lost my face, I was unshackled from my feeling of being unattractive. More importantly, I now had proof to shut up all those who questioned me for wanting a divorce.”
When she recovered, Shirin began wearing a burqa when stepping out. It shielded her burnt skin from harsh sunlight and her from searing stares.A trip to the US in 2001 to attend a burns victims' conference changed Shirin's life.
“I met people with far more severe burn wounds, and they were okay being who they were,” she says.Once back, Shirin decided to start stepping out without a burqa.
“It was tough initially, but once I did that, there was no looking back,” she says with a smile. Shirin admits she has been lucky in her fight.
“My mother has been a pillar of strength, my surgeries were funded by medical and charitable trusts. People find it easier to accept me when I meet them because I can speak English. But most burn victims do not have this kind of support,” she says.Shirin's confidence was restored once she started working with Magic Bus, an NGO.
“Standing on my feet made me want to reach out to all those who don't have the means to fight back,” she says. And that drove her to start Palash, her support group for burn victims.
“We are not here to counsel, but when we go to the victims at Sion Hospital, we just hold their hands. At that time, fighting rejection, guilt, and extreme physical and mental pain, all they want is just a touch of empathy,” she says, adding, “It is the only way to rehabilitation.”
Shirin's fellowship project is a small but critical step in that direction - she proposes to use creative media to raise awareness about social issues. Armed with the grant from a Pune-based organisation, she zeroed in on prominent city colleges and began interacting with them.
“The initial response was extremely encouraging. And we chose a college which we felt was best suited for the programme because of the healthy mix of students from all backgrounds,” she says. But the principal thought otherwise.A few weeks back, when Shirin's associate approached the principal with a formal proposal letter, she was shown the door.
“We only want heroes to come here. Not survivors. It does not take courage to survive,” she was told.And then the sting in the tail: “Women are not the only ones who are abused. Don't you know about the woman who cut off her husband's penis? I don't want my girls to shy away from marriage. Not all of them end up this way,” she reportedly told the baffled girl.
Dheera Sujan, editor, South Asia Department, Radio Netherlands, has been tracking similar stories of acid attack victims in the region.
She was so moved by Shirin's experience that she wrote an open letter to the principal. Sujan told Mumbai Mirror, “The more we circulate the human face of this ghastly violence the better. Shirin knows that better than anyone.”
Shirin laughs as she narrates the incident. “The principal is ignorant. Thankfully rest of the teachers there are more open,” she says adding, “This has only strengthened my resolve to keep up the fight. I want people to wake up and admit: Yes we have a problem with disfigured people. I am ok with the stares now because, let's face it, I do look different. But it is high time we stopped people from rejecting us.”
Bit by painful bit Shirin has reclaimed most of her life. But she still has regrets. Her former husband fled to Kuwait the day after the incident, and despite a police complaint, he was never brought to task.
“I finally got a divorce seven years later. I am told he is now married with kids,” she pauses. “I think it's terribly unfair. It will not be as easy for me to find a man. I still want to have kids you know.”
