Village Council in India Accused of Ordering Rape. As if It Were Takeout.

Late last week, NY Times reported, a Village Council in India Was Accused of Ordering Rape. Marquel flew over, and discovered it all happened over the telephone. Here is what transpired during his short visit to the country of inner peace.

Late last week, in rural India, a council elder called an 800 number and ordered the rape of a young village girl who had just become engaged to a young man from a neighboring village.

It was a rape hotline, but unlike those with which we are familiar, it was not answered by a social worker or therapist or nurse or other trained professional. Instead the caller had to navigate a series of choices much like we do when making a plane reservation. The caller is offered a gang rape, a night rape, a relative rape, even a sibling or parent rape. The list is almost endless.

Most disturbing of all, one of the forks in the choices offered includes a rape the victim “enjoys.” TPV was so dismayed that it interviewed the man who runs the hotline, Jamalarhu Jamalar, a member of a sub caste just above the so called untouchables.

“You cannot seriously believe that someone can enjoy rape, do you?” We asked.

Jamalarhu said, “well, certainly,” and noting our incredulity and growing anger, quickly added, “the rapist, at least quite often.”

Caught off balance, we asked, “We were thinking of the victims.”

“Oh,  surely, I understand that. It is a brutal crime. But some of our customers want to believe it is not and we offer them the fiction. You know I think many enjoy it themselves, thinking it’s enjoyable.”

TPV was fascinated by this Mr Jamalar and asked about his background.

“My caste is just above the lowest and we come from a very small, conservative, Bengali village. For generations we have performed the same job, arranging rapes. With this new telephone technology, it is much less stressful. All I really have to do is place the orders and see that the credit cards go through.”

TPV nodded. “Can we try?” I asked, pointing to the phone.

“Most assuredly,” answered Jamalarhu.

So we dialed the number and heard a pleasant voice asking whether we wanted a single or gang rape. We pressed 1. Then we were asked if the victim was male or female. We pressed 2. Then we were asked whether the rapist should be male or female. Amazed, we pressed 1 again. We had later choices of time of day, the age of the victim, and assorted other details and finally asked for our credit card number, expiration and such, and my mother’s maiden name. TPV hung up and asked why our mother’s maiden name.

“Oh” said Jamalarhu, chuckling, “we don’t even use that information but my cousin just got back from the States and he told me that they always ask that in the States. I think it adds a little class.”

Jamalarhu told us we hung up to soon because we missed the summary. “Why a summary?” We asked.

“Well we don’t want any mistakes. That could be dangerous or disastrous or both. Basically,” he said, in a singsong version of utter seriousness, “we want to be sure you get the rape you ordered. In fact that’s our motto.”

TPV asked whether he didn’t think this was all brutally primitive.

“No,” he answered, “brutal yes, primitive, no. We have been doing this for centuries. From even before your continent was discovered. It’s how I make my living. One of my sons is at the University of Michigan. That’s quite expensive you know.”

I really didn’t want to know any more of Mr Jamalar’s family. But I was interested in his finances. “What happens if a credit card is no good or if someone changed their minds and backs out of the charge?” I asked.

“That happens so rarely but when it does, everyone knows what happens.”

TPV didn’t.

“Well,” said Jamalarhu, “he gets raped obviously.

” We were still looking at the phone and Jamalarhu added,

“No, he gets no choices.”

For a taste of the many choices the mostly silent Indian population faces, here is a clip: