"I Was 15, He Was 55", Acid Attack Survivor Anshu Rajput Shares How She Fought The Odds

Anshu Rajput says, "I was cycling one day when he stopped me and said, ‘I love you. We should be in a relationship.’ I was 15 and he, 55! He had been our neighbour since before I was even born; I used to call him Dadaji. For the past week and a half, he had been following me on my way back from school. At first I paid no heed but when I noticed it was a daily pattern, I felt something was off. My doubts came true when he proposed that day."

Disgusted, I retorted, ‘Aapko sharam nahi aati?’ I threatened him and said I’d tell on him but I was afraid to confide in my parents. I thought, ‘What if they don’t believe me?’ I escaped him that day but things only went downhill. I slipped into depression, stopped eating, didn’t leave my room or go to school. Finally one day, 1.5 months later, I broke down and told Maa everything. My parents were livid. Right away, they went to our neighbours’ house and told them what the man was up to. His wife and their 3 grownup children fought with my parents–‘But how can he? He’s so old. Your daughter is lying!’

Word spread and the village assembled in our support. For a week, that man didn’t approach me. But there was a strange anxiety I couldn’t shake off–like something bad would happen. The night of 12 February 2014 was like any other. Per our normal routine, my family and I had dinner together and around 7 PM, laid out our beds to sleep in the aangan. Past midnight, I was jolted awake when something like hot water hit my face. I got out of bed, confused, scared. My face began burning; I shrieked in pain. My family woke up and Maa tried to wipe my face–her hands also got burnt. It was then we realised that someone had thrown acid on me!

Just then, I saw that uncle jumping across our wall, trying to run. My brother tried to catch him but he escaped.

It was complete chaos! Hearing me scream, villagers gathered but no one really knew what to do! The nearest hospital was 2.5 hours away in Bijnor city. Around 4:30 AM,Papa somehow managed to borrow someone’s car to drive me to the hospital. By this time my eyes were almost out and my skin was scorching. The pain was unbearable. I thought to myself, ‘This is it. I’m not going to make it’ and lost consciousness.

When we reached Bijnor, it was Papa’s judgment that we should first go to the police, then the hospital. He said to Maa, ‘What if something happens to Anshu and that man is not brought to justice?’ As for me, I felt as if life was ending. Through the pain and fear, I recorded my statement with the police and an FIR was registered. We then went to the hospital nearby. The doctors there didn’t know how to treat acid burns. I was referred to a hospital in Meerut, which meant a drive of another 2.5 hours.

I was falling in and out of consciousness. My skin was melting from the inside and I couldn’t see out of my left eye anymore. I could hear a little but my eyes were stuck together. In Meerut, they told my parents, ‘Isse jitni baatein karni hai abhi karlo,’ indicating I wouldn't survive. It had been 13 hours since I was attacked. Only then did any treatment begin. They put me in emergency for 2 days and shifted me to the general ward. They cleaned my eyes and applied creams daily. My lips were stuck; I couldn’t speak or eat. I couldn’t see anymore either. My condition wasn’t improving.

We were recommended a better hospital back in Bijnor, which had a burn ward. We returned from Meerut and tried our chances there. The doctors there began specialised treatment - they cut my skin, did blood transfusions, applied desi medicines. One day in the hospital, Maa told me that 2 hours after my FIR was registered, the man who attacked me was arrested from a neighbouring village. A wave of relief swept over me. If I was stuck in the hospital, why should he be roaming freely?

After 2 months of hospitalisation, there were some signs of recovery; I was discharged. I was still blind though and couldn’t see a thing. I returned to my village with a changed face. The worst day of my life was when I saw myself in the mirror for the first time. People laughed at me and abused me. Kids were scared of me. Villagers told my parents, ‘She’s a burden. Who will marry her now?’

I became suicidal. I rarely left home and whenever I did, I completely covered my face. In my lowest moments, I’d think, ‘I wish I hadn't survived this attack.’ I felt like a dead girl walking–alive on the outside, empty inside.

I attended every trial hearing of the man who attacked me. He appeared in handcuffs but without any remorse on his face. At the second court hearing, I remember I sat with my face covered and that sick man looked at me and smirked. I felt so small.

Though life had stopped completely for me now, I thought the one thing I was still entitled to was education. After 10 months, I went back to school to complete my graduation. There, I found out my school had struck my name off the list soon after I was attacked with acid. They said, ‘You’re faceless! You’ll scare other kids and we don’t want a distraction.’ My blood boiled–How could they stop me from studying? I gathered whatever courage I had, looked them in the eye and said, ‘The next time you see me, I will have become something.'

For the first time in life, I took a stand for myself. That day, something sparked in me. I was now determined to educate myself. At my insistence, for the first time, newspapers began coming home. I read them end-to-end. Papa supported me and said, ‘Believe in yourself. The world will applaud you one day.’ In 2015, I read an article about a collective of acid attack survivors living and working together in Agra. Until then, I hadn’t known there were others in the world like me!

I told my parents I wished to go to Agra and meet these women. Villagers told them not to send me to a big city since I was a girl. Maa put her foot down and said, ‘She’ll go. I’ll take her.’ A week later, I covered my face as usual and we set off.

The SHEROES Hangout was a different world! Survivors were moving freely with their faces out and proud on display; I was the odd one out with my covered face. I had the best day-I spoke to other women, heard their stories and how they had turned their tragedies around into confidence.

The founder of SHEROES got in touch with me and said, ‘We will assist you in finding work, education and legal aid.’ It was as if I was on the brink of a new life. At the end of that day, exactly after 240 days, I lifted the scarf off my face for the first time. It was a feeling I couldn't explain. I felt as if I could breathe again. I had gained a new identity.”

From Agra, Maa and I made our way back home. My face was out in full view during the return journey. People stared and laughed but I didn’t care anymore! I had regained my confidence.

With support from my new friends in Agra, I rebuilt my life bit by bit. In 2016, I returned to my school and headed straight to the principal’s office. ‘I want admission. NOW!’ I declared. They tried to turn me down again but I said I knew that was illegal and I would take action. Finally, they enrolled me and I resumed my studies. A new person, I now began attending the attacker’s court hearings with my face uncovered, staring right into his eyes. Months ago, he had laughed at me and now he couldn’t bring himself to look back at me even once! It felt like a win.

Meanwhile, I was also working at SHEROES as a reachout associate, assisting other survivors, helping them find jobs, organising community events, reading. In April that year, I passed my school exams with flying colours. To celebrate, a friend gifted me a mobile phone-no one in my family had owned a mobile till then and I didn’t know what to do with it. I couldn’t even type! From YouTube, I slowly learnt how to use a phone. Look at me now-I love making reels and am famous on Instagram!

On 5 March 2020, I got a call from my lawyer. ‘Anshu, your attacker has just been imprisoned for life.’ My eyes welled up. For 7 years, I had faced that man in court, waiting to see him behind bars. A Bijnor court had finally given me the justice I was seeking. I was at the café when I got the news. My friends surrounded me and said, ‘This is OUR win.’ They gifted me a cake that read: ‘Sangharsh ki jeet.’

Today, I’m 23 and an independent working woman living in Lucknow. Life’s still not easy and never will be-my treatment continues and is expensive but necessary to preserve whatever eyesight I have left. Back in the village, my parents are proud of me. Though I don’t have many savings, I help them financially when I can. Those who once cursed me now tell them, ‘Beti ho toh Anshu jaisi.’Someone changed my life 7 years ago and with a lot of strength, I changed it back in my favour. I picked myself up and fought for what I deserved. There’s no fear today."

This article is an edited excerpt from Anshu Rajput's interview with SheThePeople.

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