Reshma Qureshi makes a case for dignity in defiance

For the first few months after the attack in 2014, I had completely isolated myself and had not spoken to a soul. Mainly, because I was unable to comprehend how my future looked like. I was 17 and I had dreams of becoming a teacher but that dream was short-lived. I realised that my assailant (my estranged brother-in-law) had attacked me with the intention of ruining my life. I was a beautiful woman and he thought he could scar me forever, but I was unwilling to give him that closure. I decided I would not back down and that I would live my life to the fullest, in defiance of everything my assailant stood for.

My father was so devastated, he couldn’t even stand the sight of me. And I couldn’t see him suffer because of my plight. I have no vision in my left eye and my father, who is employed as a taxi driver, had spent so many weeks trying to find ways to make it better. When the process of my recovery began, I was absolutely clueless as almost everything had changed about my life. You never prepare for any such occurrence, but I had made up my mind that I would overcome my pain and move forward. Thanks to a strong support system from my family -- essentially my parents who stood by me through it all. Make Love not Scars, was an important aide in my journey to normalcy.

The NGO was founded in 2014, and I had met the founder of this movement Ria Sharma, a sprightly young woman who inspired me beyond words. The CEO of the charity is Tania Singh. They helped me continue my education, my treatment and helped me get employment, like they do for so many other acid attack survivors. I was part of a campaign to regulate the sale of acid across the country and it had just about managed to make its way into the high corridors of justice. However, it did not take off. Even today, an individual can pick up acid from a neighbourhood shop for as little as Rs 10 sans prescription.

The law needs to be strengthened and attackers need to be given capital punishment. Today, the judicial process involves the victims being summoned to confront their attackers in court, which I do not agree with. Even I had confronted my attacker while I was in a vulnerable state and I was so shell-shocked that I hugged my brother tightly. The Judge kept saying my attacker wouldn’t dare to do something in the courtroom. But I was reminded of the day of my attack, when I pleaded him to spare me, but he went ahead and poured sulfuric acid on me. I did not even want to see his face, and I gave my testimony behind a makeshift partition. I have not forgiven my assailant and I will not spare him if he is ever released. I want to exact revenge on him the same way he attacked me.

My becoming a model hasn’t really changed the way I am treated or looked at in India. When I went abroad, I was treated as a normal individual, with no rude stares or comments. Here, it’s impossible for me to travel without covering my face. It’s a barrage of uncomfortable queries for which I tell them to Google me. I do not appreciate sympathisers, but I do respect those who approach us with empathy and supportiveness. I was at a provision store in Mumbai and a gentleman came along and asked the shopkeeper for a can of acid. I was petrified and I asked him what he intended to do with it. He placated me and said it was being used for cleaning washrooms and that he wouldn’t fling it at anyone. The memory of the attack is deep-seated and I am still wary.

I am at a happy place in my life at this point in time. My book, Being Reshma, was recently launched and I would like it to be adapted into a film, where I would like to play the title role. If I could walk the ramp at the New York Fashion Week, I certainly don’t see why I can’t strive hard to make it as an actor someday.