It was early afternoon just before Christmas in India's capital, and a
young woman spoke to her friend on the phone, eager to get together.
"Wake up, wake up," she told him. "It's already very late—1 o'clock."
Mail Today/Zuma Press
A memorial for the victim in New Delhi on Sunday.
The two agreed to meet. And so began an innocent outing that set in motion a killing that would horrify the world.
The two met at Select Citywalk, a
trendy mall where New Delhi's 20-somethings gather to spend pocket
change and enjoy a small taste of the glamour promised by India's
economic rise. The young woman—her family's nickname for her was
"Bitiya," which means daughter—admired a long coat in a shop window, her
friend said in an interview. He thought he would like to buy it for her
later. Then, they took in a movie, "Life of Pi," sitting in the same
seats where, on an earlier visit, they had watched "Gulliver's Travels"
together.
A few hours later, the pair were
dumped, naked and bleeding, from a private bus along a highway. Both had
been viciously attacked with an iron rod, according to police, and the
young woman so violently raped that she died two weeks later, on Dec.
29.
Her death has spawned a moment of
national introspection over the threats women face here, whether on the
streets of the capital city or in the lanes of a distant village,
despite the advances of India's liberalizing society and invigorated
economy. Her life embodied the modern Indian dream, the one-generation
upward transformation that millions here are pursuing.
The Wall Street
Journal reconstructed the details of her life from interviews with
family and friends, including the young man, a 28-year-old software
engineer, who was with her when she was beaten. He was treated and
released but still requires medical attention. The Journal is refraining
from publishing the woman's name in keeping with Indian laws governing
the identification of rape victims.
The young woman, the child of an
airport laborer who earns 7,000 rupees a month (about $130), was
determined, her friends and family said, to become the first from her
family, which hails from a caste of agricultural workers, to have a
professional career. She was on the cusp of achieving it. She had
enrolled in a yearslong physiotherapy course in a city in the foothills
of the Himalayas. To afford it, she worked nights at an outsourcing
firm, helping Canadians with their mortgage issues, family members and
her friend said.
As she amassed some money of her own,
she enjoyed figuring out how to spend it. Lately, she had her eye on a
Samsung smartphone. One day she hoped to buy an Audi. "I want to build a
big house, buy a car, go abroad and will work there," her friend, the
software engineer, recalled her saying.
On Monday, five men who allegedly raped
and killed her appeared before a New Delhi court for the first time,
their faces covered in gray woolen caps. All five face charges of
kidnapping, rape and murder, among other crimes. They face the death
sentence if found guilty. A sixth alleged assailant, a juvenile, faces
proceedings before a juvenile court.
A lawyer for the accused couldn't be reached.
The family originally hails from Ballia
in rural Uttar Pradesh state. They moved to the capital city, Delhi,
about 30 years ago to seek "a better life," her father said. He worked
for 13 years as a mechanic at an appliance factory. Then he struggled
for a decade in his own business, assembling voltage meters. He worked
as a hospital security guard.
About three years ago, he became a
loader at the airport. He sold half of a small parcel of land to pay for
the education of his daughter and her two younger brothers, who are now
17 and 15 years old.
The family lives in Mahavir Enclave on a
6-foot-wide lane off a decrepit street lined with shoe shops,
dispensaries and jewelry stores. It is a neighborhood of migrants who
work as construction laborers, building apartment houses for Delhi's
blossoming middle class.
Her brothers recalled pillow-fights
with their elder sister, who was only 5-foot-3 and weighed about 90
pounds. But she stood out as a high achiever in school. She earned
pocket money tutoring other children. "She was the brightest student in
the classroom," said a school friend who identified herself only as
Nisha.
At first, Bitiya had wanted to be a
doctor. But her father couldn't afford her tuition or find a suitable
guarantor for a loan that a bank would require.
Rape Map
A look at statistics on reported rapes and conviction rates of rape cases in India in 2011.
The Sai
Institute of Paramedical and Allied Sciences, in the city of Dehra Dun
in the Himalayan foothills, offered an alternative: a 4½-year
physiotherapy course that was more affordable. She enrolled in November
2008. A graduate from the school is expected to earn a monthly salary of
nearly 30,000 rupees, more than four times what her father earns.
She attended classes from noon to 5
p.m., staff and her friends said. To pay the fees, she worked at a call
center on the 7 p.m. to 4 a.m. shift, handling questions from Canadians
about their mortgages and supervising a team of employees, friends and
family said. The company couldn't be located.
When she first arrived at school in
Dehra Dun, she was an "introverted and submissive" young woman who wore
simple, traditional dresses, said Bhawna Ghai, a professor and head of
the physiotherapy department.
But as the course progressed, she
opened up. She left the dorm and moved into an apartment with two
friends. She began choreographing and emceeing college dance recitals.
A good English speaker, she became an
avid reader, particularly Sidney Sheldon novels, her college friends
said. She was a fan, too, of "One Night @ the Call Center," a
best-selling novel by Indian author Chetan Bhagat about six call-center
workers.
Money remained an issue. Combining her
studies and the call-center job was exhausting, friends said. "She slept
for only two hours" a night, said Sheen Kaur, one of her roommates, in
an interview. In all, she paid about $3,300 in tuition fees.
Along the way, she developed an eye for
fashion. If she spotted an outfit she couldn't afford at the mall, her
brother said, she would find ways to replicate it in the bazaars. She
amassed a shoe collection, preferably high heels.
This past October, she returned to
Delhi to look for a volunteer internship, a requirement to complete her
physiotherapy studies.
On Dec. 16, the day of the attack, her
family gathered at their home. The young woman and her mother cooked
lunch—fritters in yogurt, beans, and puffy bread called
puri. The siblings teased each other about who would steal a bite of their father's food.
After lunch, their father went to work
on the 2 p.m. shift at the airport, one of her brothers recalled. And
his sister went to see her friend at the mall, the meeting the two had
earlier arranged on the phone. The two weren't dating, both he and the
family said, but had been friends for years.
At the mall, her friend recalled
noticing that she had put streaks in her hair—white, gold and red. She
asked him what he thought. He says he wasn't really a fan of the look,
but answered "It's OK," so as not to hurt her feelings. He also remarked
that she seemed too thin.
"A lot of people struggle to get this physique," she responded.
After "Life of Pi" ended—she loved the
movie, her friend said—they took a motorized rickshaw, an inexpensive,
three-wheeled taxi, to Munirka on Delhi's main southern highway, a
convenient point to board a bus toward her home.
Associated Press
A police officer cleared
traffic at the New Delhi district court Monday to make way for a police
van believed to be carrying the five men accused in the attack.
The same
evening, about five miles away in a slum of about 300 dwellings known as
Ravi Dass camp, two brothers, Ram and Mukesh Singh, were throwing a
small party with chicken and alcohol, according to police. Ram was the
driver of a private bus.
They were joined that evening by Vinay
Sharma, a young man who earned $40 a month as a helper at a local gym,
police said. Earlier he had been watching television at home, according
to his mother, Champa Devi, when a friend and local fruit-seller, Pawan
Gupta, stopped by. Eventually, according to police, the two men joined
the Singh brothers, who lived down a narrow lane nearby.
The group, which included one other man
and a juvenile, decided to take what police have described as a "joy
ride" on the bus that Ram Singh drove.
Around 9:15 p.m., police said, the bus
pulled into the stop where the young woman and her friend were looking
for a ride. The men aboard the bus offered them a lift to Dwarka, near
the young woman's home, according to police.
Four of the alleged assailants acted
like regular passengers, according to the young man who boarded. One of
them collected 20 cents for each ticket and the other drove.
The accused began taunting the woman
with lewd comments, according to her friend, which led to a brawl. The
young woman's friend said that some of the men knocked him unconscious
with an iron bar.
At the back of the bus, police said,
the young woman was raped as the vehicle was driven around, passing
Vasant Vihar, an upscale neighborhood which is home to embassies and
expatriates. After about 40 minutes, according to police, the bus
stopped near a strip of budget neon-lit hotels with names like Star,
Venus and Highway Crown, that cater to travelers near the airport.
Tripti Lahiri/The Wall Street Journal
Passersby near the spot where the two victims were dumped, naked and bleeding, by the side of the road.
There,
the men on the bus dumped the two friends, naked, by the side of the
road in a dusty strip of dried grass, according to police and the young
man. As the woman lay barely conscious, her friend, who was bleeding
from a cut to the head but could now stand, waved his arms and shouted
for help at passing cars. For more than 20 minutes, he said, no one
stopped.
Several people who work in the area
said that two employees of DSC Ltd., the company that built the highway
and now runs it, were the first to attend to the two victims, around 10
p.m. The company declined to comment. One of the DSC employees put in a
call to the police, according to a person familiar with the matter.
Moments later, a manager from one of
the nearby hotels, a burly 28-year-old, got on his motorbike to head
home. He passed the scene without stopping—but then turned back, struck
by the image of blood streaming down the man's face.
He offered to get a sheet and a bottle
of water from his hotel to cover them as they waited for the police, he
said in an interview. One of the DSC employees gave a sweater to the
young woman and a shirt to her friend. About 45 minutes after the two
were dumped, the police arrived.
Around the same time as the young woman
was being taken by police to Safdarjung Hospital, about eight miles
away, her family was starting to grow concerned. Usually, her brother
said, Bitiya returned home by 8:30 p.m. "We were really worried, but
didn't have any other option than waiting," he said. He dialed the
pair's mobile phones without success.
Around 11:15 p.m., the police phoned
and said the young woman had been in an accident. Her father rushed to
the hospital with a neighbor on a motorbike. "It was a sinking feeling,"
her brother said. "We feared for the worst."
—Preetika Rana, Amol Sharma and Aditi Malhotra in New Delhi contributed to this article.
A version of this article appeared January 8,
2013, on page A1 in the U.S. edition of The Wall Street Journal, with
the headline: New Delhi Attack: The Victim's Story.