International Women’s Day 2024: Here are four ladies taking the bull by the horns every day

With International Women’s Day around the corner, mid-day speaks to four ladies who have been taking the bull by the horns every day for years, refusing to give up in the face of opposition, attacks and physical challenges

It is easy to spot Women’s Day coming from a mile away; the political and commercial gimmicks start weeks earlier. But something as simple and basic as the fact that the entire month of March is celebrated as Women’s History Month is never talked about. Because celebrating a woman is more than a day’s work, we looked at some women who have been doggedly soldiering on in their chosen fields for years, sometimes decades. And with solid results to show for their labour.  

‘My dream was to change the lives of others’

Sangeeta Kamble
Social activist, Mankhurd

Growing up, my life was a mix of progress and hardship. We had a small farm near Kolhapur; and a separate spot in the village to fill water, as we are from the Dalit community. This was the first taboo I broke, at 15 years of age. 

I was the fifth of six children, and the second daughter. My father was very vocal against untouchability and also worked for the welfare of fellow villagers, building wells and promoting education for girls. My sister and I were pushed hard to finish schooling.

 I didn’t need much motivation: I loved to read and developed an interest in history. The idea of changing the lives of others became an aspiration. I wanted to live just like the historical figures I read about… the freedom fighters and social workers.

In the 1990s, I got married and we moved to Mumbai for better income opportunities. When I came to live in Maharashtra Nagar in Mankhurd, it was a marsh. Our first house was nothing more than a sheet of plywood over shallow water, with plastic walls.

In 2001, a builder turned up to demolish the temporary houses, saying they were on his land. But because I read the newspaper every day, I knew that people could not simply be uprooted from their homes. With the help of a lawyer, we took the fight to court, getting a stay on the demolition.

That was just the beginning:  A local political leader decided to cash in on the situation and claimed she could get the demolition stopped if we paid R500 per head, but I knew that there was no way to do this other than the legal one. I called her out in a meeting, and the residents thought I was being difficult for the sake of it. They surrounded and almost assaulted me.

It was the first time that the importance of education dawned on me; it inspired me to take up more causes. I formed a group with other women in the area and started writing to the municipal corporation, seeking cleaner roads and better toilets.

During the deluge of July 2005, I got an opportunity to help people on a larger scale. We had moved into a pukka house by then, but many other houses had been washed away. I gathered all the women and children in the area and hosted them at home a day after the floods. The women who had earlier tried to lynch me slept in my house that night.

The very next morning, I began approaching corporates and social welfare organisations, and in a day, a truck full of food for the entire locality showed up. This went on for four days till the government finally woke up and started sending relief supplies.

From then on, there was no looking back. I underwent a certificate course in Social Work for ParaProfessionals and set up a primary school in Mankhurd. The first teachers were neighbours who had worked as babysitters and tuition teachers. Through consistent letters to the government, I was able to get qualified teachers and a bigger space. In 2007, I got a government grant to set up an anganwadi, which is a source of livelihood for scores of women in the area.

This work automatically opened my eyes to other groups of people who were underrepresented and suffering. Now, I work with hawkers, autorickshaw drivers, and daily wage labourers. My efforts are very basic: Securing food, shelter, or the money they are owed. Much of the work is filling up applications for them so that they can seek benefits they are entitled to under government schemes.

Life is a journey of lessons and alliances. I am now a member of the Communist Party of India (Marxist) and of the Centre of Indian Trade Unions. I have stuck with the CPI (M) because their policies are devoid of religion. There is no religious picture or idol in my office because we believe in helping everyone who we are in a position to help. After all, what else does religion, in its purest form, preach?

‘Silence is no solution; Fight back’

Megha Vora 
Founder and Chief Coach, Women’s Self Defence Centre

I come from a conservative Gujarati family where we were always taught to be silent, to pin our eyes to the ground when outside, and not talk back. I grew up in a small colony in Vile Parle, and every other day, we heard stories of verbal and sexual harassment. In school, just like any other girl, I was sexually harassed verbally and bullied too often, and even though it angered me, I couldn’t do anything—not a word would escape my lips; I couldn’t even make eye contact with the perpetrator.

Megha Vora’s personal trauma fuels her resolve to make young women capable of giving it back. Pic/Anurag Ahire

In college, I met Mehul Vora, who became my boyfriend and now husband. Mehul had trained in martial arts since he was three years old, and by the time he was in college, he held a second-degree black belt in Karate. I had never known anyone to be interested or participate in armed combat as a sport, which piqued my interest. We became friends, and one day, when I asked him whether he would teach me martial arts, he said with a smirk, “Then you’ll have to fight for yourself; I won’t go around beating up boys for you. You won’t need me; you’ll be your own boss.” 

Every day after college, I would stop by at Juhu beach or the school in Malad where he taught after college, and he would teach me classic ‘haddi tod [bone-breaking]’ moves. Six months down the line, I snapped and used them. One evening, as I walked home, a guy from my own colony started badgering me with crude and sexually-explicit terms. I turned around and bashed him black and blue—bystanders tried to separate us but I just couldn’t let go of his hair. I banged his head on a car bonnet not once, but four times.

After that, sexual harassment of women stopped in the entire lane.

I felt something that I had never experienced before: A sense of freedom and confidence. The realisation that I had the power to protect myself. It was a 
transformative moment.

In 2012, the gang rape of the paramedical trainee Jyoti Singh in a public bus in south Delhi shook the world and I found my calling. We started a non-profit organisation, the Women Self Defence Centre, to teach women karate, jiu-jitsu, kickboxing, and pressure point [combat] techniques for protection. One of the most important techniques is how to use things found in your bag as a weapon, such as a scarf or a house key. It has been more than 10 years and we have empowered more than one lakh women so far.

Girls are not safe anywhere. My students talk about the most traumatic experiences of abuse that take place in assumed safe spaces such as homes.

We also try to help the girls mentally. We are conditioned to not show our emotions or “misbehave”; so, when we are abused or attacked, we freeze, shut down, or go numb. The very first step in our training is to unlearn this and scream—scream as loud as you can and embarrass the abuser. If this doesn’t work, enlist the three A’s: Awareness, Assessment and Action. 

We educate women on adopting self-defence as a life-skill, and not a hobby. It brings discipline and balance to your life; keeps you calm and conscious of your physical space and being.

It’s been 28 tough and glorious years of fighting and teaching—the kind of satisfaction I feel is incomparable. Change is only possible when you work on yourself.

‘Fed up of being told to shut up’

Hasina Khan
General Secretary, Bebaak Collective

We speak to Hasina Khan just days after one of the convicts in the Bilkis Bano gangrape case was given parole to attend his nephew’s wedding. The champion of rights for women marginalised by religion is swamped with work, which takes her all over the country. Khan takes a breather to talk to us over the phone.

“Bilkis is just one example,” she says. “History is filled with examples of how the deck is stacked against women.”

From meetings to discuss prevalent issues to educating, upskilling and helping in crises, Hasina Khan’s life revolves around women marginalised by religion 

Bebaak, meaning fearless in Urdu, is a national collective of women working together for the upliftment of their sex through education, employment, and financial and legal aid in both, judicial courts and before the Muslim religious authority.

“It’s worse if you’re a Muslim woman,” Khan continues. “If I go to a police station, I am automatically anticipating either an anti-woman bias, or an anti-Muslim bias, or both.”

Khan’s first brush with the path that she chose came when she was a child, and her mother told her not to wear a burqa if she didn’t want to. The incident shaped her thoughts, and ultimately, her life.

“It wasn’t easy for her,” says Khan of her mother. “She faced strong opposition, but just as she was my source of strength, she too must have drawn her strength from another woman who dared to break free of patriarchy. We all draw our strength from each other.”

The turning point in Khan’s life came when she met Shehnaaz Sheikh, founder of the non-profit Awaaz-e-Niswan (AEN). It was among the first organisations that challenged the Muslim Personal Law and the way Islam treated women. In 1993, when Sheikh left the AEN, Khan revived and led it. AEN did the same work that Bebaak, founded in 2013, now does.

“The women we work with have had enough of staying silent,” says Khan. “They try to voice their troubles to those close to them but are told to stay quiet. They labour through life thinking they will be heard some day, but that day never comes. After a point, one gets fed up of always being told to shut up.” says Khan.
This refusal to shut up is what keeps her going.

“The freedoms of Muslim women are tailor-made to suit the comfort levels of their men,” she says. “They are okay with us talking about the state of Muslims as a whole, but the minute we start talking about the state of women in Islam, they have a problem. But these problems exist; they will not go away if we don’t talk about them. Rather, talking about them will bring a solution. All we’re trying to do is let the victims talk.”

Bebaak coordinates with victims of abuse, discrimination, and violence across the country to connect them to solutions. Discussions and collective learning are encouraged, and instances of communalism and its effect on Muslim women are documented. Since its inception, Bebaak has campaigned against the practice of Triple Talak, the politics around the beef ban and vigilante justice in the name of protecting cows.

“The meetings we hold are replete with examples of courage by women, like the nude protest by Assamese women outside the Assam Rifles headquarters in 2004 against sexual atrocities by soldiers. Shaheen Bagh is another shining example of women breaking their silence. Again, it is women drawing strength from each other,” Khan emphasises.

She can’t help but express concern over the current political atmosphere, which has made it all the more difficult for women to speak up. She fails to see the point behind celebrating International Women’s Day at a time when female wrestlers are arrested for protesting prolonged sexual harassment by political leaders.
“It breaks my heart when I see a woman forced to give up after repeatedly asking for justice. But I draw solace from these lines: Yeh na samjho sadaa se haare hain hum; Bas jalte hue angaare hain hum (Don’t think we are lost, we are silently burning embers).”

‘You’re disabled only if you choose to be’

Chhonzin Angmo
Visually challenged mountaineer

Born in the other-worldy Kinnaur Valley in Himachal Pradesh, Chhonzin Angmo lost her eyesight  due to a reaction to a medication when she was only eight years old. However, Angmo chose not merely to navigate the world anew, but to conquer it. In September 2023, Angmo scaled Mt Kang Yatsae-2, a majestic mountain that rises to 20,459 feet in Ladakh. Her successful climb is more than just a physical victory; it’s a powerful demonstration of her unbreakable will.

“Losing my sight didn’t mean losing my vision for life,” says the 27-year-old, her voice resonating with conviction. Angmo finds a deep connection with Helen Keller’s words: The only thing worse than being blind is having sight but no vision. It’s this philosophy that propelled her to take on some of the most challenging terrains and adventures.

Chhonzin Angmo refuses to let her disability stop her from scaling new heights, literally 

This philosophy is vividly mirrored in her academic pursuits. She finished schooling at the Mahabodhi Residential School in Ladakh, then advanced to earn undergraduate and Master’s degrees from the prestigious Miranda House at Delhi University. “From there, there was no looking back for me,” she says, her voice a mix of pride and humility.

Even over the phone, you can feel the positivity in Angmo’s voice. Her life is anchored in positivity and a belief in limitless energy. “I’ve never let my disability define me or limit my ambitions,” she says. “My life’s purpose is to motivate all people with disabilities, showing them that they are only disabled if they choose to be.”

Chhonzin Angmo refuses to let her disability stop her from scaling new heights, literally 

Her passion for adventure began in 2016 with a mountaineering course at the Atal Bihari Vajpayee Institute of Mountaineering and Allied Sports in Manali, where she was awarded Best Trainee.

The year 2018 marked a significant chapter in Angmo’s life when she tandem cycled 550 km from Manali to Khardung La in Ladakh, one of the world’s highest roads in nine days. She clocked 30 to 40 km every day, going through six mountain passes at the highest elevation of 18,350 km at temperatures that dropped to 4C to 5C at night, to become a symbol of resilience. The following year, she embarked on another adventure— cycling across the Nilgiri mountains and covering Karnataka, Tamil Nadu and Kerala in just six days.

Angmo’s spirit of leadership shone in 2021 during Operation Blue Freedom, where she led a team of people with disabilities to the Siachen Glacier, setting a new world record. “It was an honour to be the only woman to reach the world’s highest battlefield,” she says. In September 2022, she triumphed over the Mt Kanamo peak in Spiti Valley, standing at 19,635 feet. “Being the first from my team to reach the top was a dream come true,” she recalls. And then, in September 2023, she stood atop Mt Kang Yatsae 2 at 20,459 feet above sea level in Ladakh.

Angmo’s other interests span across cooking, knitting, yoga and football. Among her numerous accolades, being recognised by PM Narendra Modi in Mann ki Baat and receiving the National Association of Blind’s Madhu Sharma Young Achiever Award in December 2022 are particularly dear to her.

When asked about her challenges, she says, “In the initial years of college, when I moved to Delhi, I had to learn to do everything on my own. I had never used a cane before. There were times I would cry because I felt I could not manage on my own. But then slowly and steadily, I can proudly say I am independent now. Life will always be beautiful, no matter how tough it gets. My blindness is not a weakness but a source of strength.”

Currently a junior assistant at the Union Bank of India in Delhi, Angmo dreams of climbing Mt Everest.

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