THE TRUTH LIVES somewhere in the 65 steps between two homes in Makhi—a small village with a big taint. One is the home of the young woman who has accused four-time MLA Kuldeep Singh Sengar of rape and, subsequently, of orchestrating an accident that killed two of her aunts. Sengar’s ancestral home is right across his accuser’s home.
As a court in Delhi prepares to give its verdict in the cases against Sengar, the residents of Makhi, in Unnao district of Uttar Pradesh, are reticent. In the days following the accident on July 28 (after which the case was moved out of the state), there was a rush by the media and by those it gave space to, to be seen on the side of the survivor. Now that distinction between black and white has melted into a complex grey.
In Makhi, a mixed-population village, there are numerous conspiracy theories—both for and against the survivor. Ram Ratan Singh, an elderly resident, echoes the sentiments of many others when he tells THE WEEK, “Mahesh Singh (the survivor’s uncle) had planned Sengar’s ruin for one whole year, spreading all kinds of lies against him. I remember a poster that depicted Sengar as Ravan. The families were close once. Who is to say how they fell apart so viciously. Political ambition can be murky.” This is a reference to the survivor’s father and uncles being Sengar’s henchmen at one time, till they developed political hopes of their own.
Man Bahadur Singh, the father of Mahendra Singh, the lawyer in whose car the survivor was travelling to meet her uncle when the accident occurred, says the case and the responses to it must be viewed through several prisms. “Imagine multiple members of your family are in politics,” he tells THE WEEK. “That gives you control over every source of earning in the area—ration shops and mining licences, for instance. Many people draw benefits from your position.” He seems to be alluding to Makhi’s pradhan Archana, who is Sengar’s sister-in-law, and to his wife, Sangeeta, who is the zilla panchayat chairperson.
There is another strand in this web of benefits. In the aftermath of the accident and the Supreme Court’s criticism of the state’s tardy handling of the case, armed protection was provided to witnesses. This count stands at 115, and many are believed to have lied to get protection. One of them is a man called Devendra Singh, who claimed to be the injured Mahendra’s brother. “He is not my son. But yes, he was helping the survivor,” says Man Bahadur.
Tense wait: Police deployed in Makhi village, Unnao | Pawan Kumar
Sonu Singh, the survivor’s cousin, says that Sengar’s power is all-pervasive and the fear genuine. “His men would surround us in court, crowd around the judge and intimidate him,” she tells THE WEEK. “This is not an easy fight. Our family has been wiped off. There is no reason to back off now.”
Mahesh’s driver, Shivnath Singh, who was with the police when the survivor was recovered in a subsequent case of kidnapping and gang-rape, says, “Even if Sengar is punished, there is no way for the family to return to Makhi. The threats and the violence will not stop.”
At the zilla panchayat office of Sengar’s wife, we meet Sanjay Kumar Mishra, the political representative for Sengar. He says his association with Sengar goes back to when they were both 10. “We are not related, but the connection is in my blood,” he says. “He was always available to the people from his constituency. He never said no and would personally make phone calls to get people’s work done.”
Perceptions aside, according to the defence, the case against Sengar will rest on the electronic evidence stacked against the survivor. For instance, on the day of the alleged rape (June 4, 2017), call records indicate that the survivor made three calls between 7:56pm and 8:26pm—during the time of the alleged rape—to Naresh Tiwari, one of the men she has accused of kidnapping her, on June 11. These calls were made from the phone of the survivor. The SIM card used by the survivor was, on the evening of June 10, put into the phone used by survivor’s mother. On the same day, it was then inserted into Naresh’s phone. This SIM was in the name of a neighbour, and the survivor had allegedly borrowed it on May 29. “The pattern of calls before the SIM was borrowed is completely different from the pattern when the SIM was inserted into the phone of the survivor’s mother. The later calls are outgoing calls, made mostly to Naresh,” says a member of the defence team.
Another crucial bit of information that the defence is banking on is the call-record reports that allegedly show that Sengar was 15 kilometres from the scene of the crime at the time it allegedly happened. Apparently, there are also photographs that support this. The prosecution has said that time stamps on photographs can be manipulated and they would hold no value in the absence of video evidence. The defence is, however, banking on the fact that the said photographs were uploaded on social media on the day of the incident and internet protocol data proves that.
“There are crucial facts that the CBI has not considered,” says a member of the defence team. “If it did, there would have been no case to begin with.”
Mohammed Ismail, a local Samajwadi Party politician, says that many like him have been scared by the media attention to voice their opinion about Sengar. “He is no longer in my party but I will not hesitate to say that his behaviour towards women was of utmost respect,” he says. “His image has been ruined by political rivals jealous of his popularity. It is no exaggeration to say that he could draw a crowd of 50,000 on his own.” Though Ismail refuses to name any political rivals, one name floating around is that of Annu Tandon, a former Congress MP from Unnao.
Tandon denies any role in the case and also the possibility of any political angle. “In June 2017, I met the survivor on the directions of my party president to give a report,” she tells THE WEEK. “I have had no connection with the survivor since and am waiting for the legal process to unfold.”
Back in Makhi, no one wants to take sides. Not till the court pronounces its verdict on what happened between those 65 steps.