The Unbearable Heaviness of Being 'Dalip'

I was 20, eclectic and confused, a journalism student. The first protests were full of raw energy. I flowed with the tide. I knew Dilip Simeon was right. The entire academic community in the country knew. That's why he was murderously assaulted - an event which hit the headlines in 1982.

Hence the dark irony, that 26 years later, this legendary catalyst of resistance, a role-model for students of several generations, suddenly becomes "Dalip" in the Delhi High Court records.

But first, the truth.

On February 18, 1982, Dilip Simeon got on his scooter to proceed to Ramjas College in Delhi University, where he taught history. He was followed by a gang of musclemen in a car, and waylaid in a bylane near Maiden's Hotel. He was bludgeoned with lead pipes, and left to die. His leg was broken in two places - the scars are still there - his lips smashed, his upper jaw damaged, five teeth knocked out.

There was outrage. The Vice-Chancellor, academics and students arrived at the hospital. Street protests spread. Everyone knew who had masterminded the attack, which was part of a larger picture. Those days Ramjas College was run like a banana republic by Principal Kartar Singh and his organised infrastructure of 'legitimate and illegitimate' loyalists. There were allegations of illegal admissions, blatant goondaism, injustice against karamcharis and students. There was the saffron brigade, inside and outside the classroom, calling the shots, and patronised by the 'Princy', allegedly an ex-communist.

The historical catalyst of the events was a humble gardener. Sita Ram Mali planted a tree on which a hundred flowers of resistance bloomed. He had earlier testified against the principal for ordering karamcharis to physically disrupt a DUTA (Delhi University Teachers' Association) meeting convened to discuss the corruption at Ramjas. He refused to be gagged by the establishment's musclemen. He was doomed to undergo a Kafka-esque labyrinth of injustice. His salary was stopped illegally, without an inquiry. He was being pushed out, just as many other poor karamcharis before him.

The tyranny had become suffocating. Ramjas was no longer a place where young minds could study in peace. In October 1981, Dilip sat on an indefinite fast, demanding Sita Ram's salary, and an apology. And in February 1982, he was made the target of a murderous assault. What followed was historical: the third term saw an upsurge of resistance involving all sections of the community, solidarity for Ramjas hostellers from all campus hostels, a leap of political consciousness. The legacy continues till this day. That is why Dilip is remembered - for the optimism of resistance and the liberating power of knowledge.

The case was rejected by a trial court. Such cases are fought by the State. During the trial, one of the criminals visited his house, sought forgiveness, and asked that Dilip not testify in court. He forgave him, but was determined to speak the truth. But the magistrate who heard him rejected his evidence because he did not speak to the police on the day of the attack. His statement was therefore probably 'tutored', the magistrate said. How could he have? With his mouth in stitches, his jaw smashed, half-alive?
The historian did not expect any justice for himself. 26 years later, on June 13, 2008, he was reminded that the "past never leaves us". The newspapers reported an "HC clean chit" in the case of the assault on a college lecturer named "Dalip". Dilip says the case was dismissed without even a casual glance. Surely the judge could have gone through the records? If it was not a murderous assault, was it an "accident"? Were the injuries compatible with accident cases? If Dilip's charges were false, why not proceed against him? The academic had no clue that the State had gone in appeal to the Delhi High Court. The prosecutor's office did not bother to inform him. Had he known that an appeal was pending, he could have asked that the innuendos against his testimony be struck off, and that the system recognise that a crime had taken place on February 18, 1982.

"I don't expect any justice," Dilip told me. "But I want it to be known that the system has erased this crime from the record. I have abided by the Indian Constitution and Gandhian values. I never preached violence or retribution to my students, even when they were enraged at what had been done to me. My own case is minuscule compared to what happens to poorer citizens. It's not hunger but injustice at the root of mass anger. Shankar Guha Niyogi, the great trade union leader of Chhattisgarh, was murdered in 1992: his murderers went scot free. Only the contract killer, Paltan Mallah, was convicted. Did he have a motive? Does the judiciary realise what a deep sense of injustice they have gifted the workers by acquitting the culprits? The Chief Justice says judiciary is the ultimate defender of citizen's rights. Who will defend these rights if the courts fail us?"