Phoolan Devi, the heroine of the poor, the oppressed and the downtrodden, was shot dead on July 25 at the age of 38. Thus ended the career of a lower caste abused woman parliamentarian. She was murdered outside her home in New Delhi exactly 20 years after she had allegedly killed 22 upper caste men, each of whom had raped her repeatedly.
Whenever we talk about Phoolan, the events at Behmai crowd everything else out. It was at Behmai on Feb. 14, 1981 that 22 upper caste men were killed by a group led by Phoolan. The result was that she became to some a legend and to others, a bandit. The incident neatly separated upper castes and lower castes into two warring factions.
Following the murders, Phoolan evoked both intense hatred and unquestioned sympathy. Those who hated her could not imagine how a young woman from one of the lowest castes could have the audacity to kill 22 powerful upper caste men in cold blood. For the lower castes, however, she was an avenging heroine, paying back with blood and bullets all the humiliation and violence heaped on her and them. After all, it was in Behmai that she had been raped, after the killing of Vikram Mallah, the man she loved.
But ironically, despite many accounts of her trauma which transformed her into a rebel, her life was often glamorized in the domestic and international press. She was always called a ruthless opportunist and a killer, but was never taken as a heroine of the downtrodden Indian women and a member of parliament in the world’s largest democracy.
No one ever tried to record the courage and intelligence of this illiterate woman who raised herself above her past, reinvented herself as a politician and spoke out forcefully for the deprived in parliament. She always remained an object of hatred and contempt. No one bothered to understand the psyche, the trauma, and the pain of this unfortunate woman who was paraded naked and raped for 23 days in Behmai. It is hardly surprising that after that, she remained vulnerable.
In the subsequent two decades, Phoolan, underwent several metamorphoses — from an abused woman to a “mass killer” on the run to an international media celebrity to a member of parliament. She defied both social odds and political opposition to attain celebrity status and become a member of parliament.
During my March vacation, by chance I happened to meet Phoolan Devi. I was traveling from Delhi to my home and once the train began to move, I realized the woman in the compartment was Phoolan. She had been at the center of some commotion on the platform and she asked the bodyguard to identify those involved. I happened to be closest to her and seized the opportunity to ask her what had happened on the platform.
Suddenly her face drained of all color and her eyes stood out — sharp, piercing and accusing. She said that as she boarded the train a few known upper caste criminals had pushed her from behind. That resulted in a scuffle between them and those with her.
In a fit of rage she addressed a fellow passenger by name, “Jaiswalji, ye gunda log apke sath hai na, chaliyee sab ko Kanpur mein dekh lenge.” (Jaiswalji, these criminals are with you, I will teach you all a lesson at Kanpur). Her target was Uttar Pradesh Congress president, Om Prakash Jaiswal, who was also traveling in the same compartment. He argued that the guilty ones were not with him but she was not convinced.
Her reaction showed clearly her hatred of the upper castes and the creamy layer of society; she was visibly frustrated and said, “Ye bara log mujhe parliament mein nahin dekhna chahta hai, hum air-conditioned compartment mein travel karen ye bhi enko nahin bhata hai.” (These important people don’t want to see me in parliament. It is untolerable to them that I am traveling in an AC compartment).
Her voice was choked with emotion and it was evident that she felt she was facing the wrath of an intolerable social order as well as being discriminated against. One thing, however, was clear. She looked like a woman who had the courage to stand up, confront and fight her tormentors. She was the image of an oppressed woman fighting against an autocratic feudal society.
Once she had calmed down, I was struck by her innocent appearance. She had become a different person, giggling like a little girl. She seemed to be a person still lost in childhood. She had the “innocence and the hope of the young.” Certainly there were scars but her spirit was able to free itself from them.
In the Lok Sabha, Phoolan had once asked: “For 11 years I was in jail day and night without being tried. What should I have done, Mr. Speaker? Should I have committed suicide? Where can I seek justice?”
One thing must be noted. While jailed on a number of charges including the murders of the 22 men, the state never moved forward with a trial. Once she had been freed in 1994, however, hearings began immediately.
While speaking of her future plans, she had said that one day she hoped to be a minister. Once in that position, she would make every effort to reduce the miseries of her people. But destiny had other plans for her. In her fight for social justice, she had earned her share of enemies. Three of them shot her dead, to “uphold the honor and dignity” of the upper caste men who raped her.
Certainly, she did not deserve to die the way she did. She was a conscientious legislator whose life had been dogged by a series of tragedies beginning when she was barely in her teens. She was victimized by a feudal society and picked up the gun in desperation only when there was no other alternative. She had committed no crime before that awful day at Behmai.
It is sad and ironic that the woman who managed to survive so much in Uttar Pradesh and Chambal should have been so brutally done to death on the doorsteps of her house in the nation’s capital. She had long since given up bullets for ballots; perhaps that was her biggest — and her fatal mistake.
A senior official in the Home Ministry denied that her security had recently been scaled down. “She had been getting the same security to which every MP is entitled.” It hardly takes an expert to realize that the threat to Phoolan’s life was much greater than to other MP’s and that appropriate steps should have been taken.
Ironically, once dead, Phoolan had the country’s top politicians queuing to pay homage to her. Was the message that this oppressed woman’s struggle against exploitation had at last been vindicated?
