He is just a few metres away from the spot that changed his life irrevocably. On this day six months ago, he, with a friend, boarded a bus from a bus stop close to where he is now sitting. He was then like any other young professional, leading a fast-paced life and forever rushing against time.

“I can’t run anymore — both literally and metaphorically,” says the 27-year-old youth who cannot be named. He can only be described as the Delhi bus gang rape victim’s male friend.

He was then employed at a top Indian computer company. He thought “bad things” happened to other people; crime was something he read about in the newspapers and forgot the next day. Then life, as he knew it, changed forever.

On December 16, he and his friend boarded a public bus. The driver and his cronies ringed the two. He was badly thrashed; she was brutally assaulted and raped.

Six months later, he doesn’t have a job. He is angry one moment, depressed the other. He can no longer sit for long hours as he once did in his desk job as an engineer. He now knows how apathy runs in government hospitals, why policemen are often frustrated and why politicians make false promises. He is the primary witness in the rape and murder case. And yet he feels everyone involved has moved on, leaving him behind.

In another part of the city, in a congested neighbourhood, the rape victim’s mother shares his thoughts.

“Things may have changed for my husband and sons. But I am still standing in front of my daughter’s portrait, just like the day she died, and hoping she will call me ‘mummy’ once again,” she says. “I dread Sundays, but every day is a reminder of that horrific Sunday.”

The tiny living room has a cot and two plastic chairs. A shelf overflows with books from a popular coaching institute which prepares students for medical entrance examinations. Her younger son has just been admitted to one of Delhi’s coveted public schools. Well-wishers assured him of a seat in the school if he scored at least 85 per cent marks in his secondary school examinations. He notched up 90 per cent and hopes to become a doctor. A visiting foreign dignitary promised him a medical seat a few months ago, but the family believes he will make it on his own.

“I never wanted to be a doctor,” the 17-year-old boy confesses. “While studying in a government school, I dreamt of becoming an astronaut. But then my life isn’t what it used to be. I have to fulfil my sister’s wish. She wanted to be a doctor but settled for physiotherapy when she didn’t get through. Someone in the family has to have a doctor’s title,” he says.

Their father, who worked as a loader with a private airline company, has been given a new job. As a senior assistant manager with GMR’s Randstad India Limited, he now makes security gate passes. He works fewer hours, earns thrice the amount, but can’t find peace. “We may have got compensations but we can sleep peacefully only after the accused are hanged,” he says.

Helping hands came to their aid after the incident. The family has been allotted a two-bedroom flat in a middle-class neighbourhood. They have been given close to Rs 75 lakh as compensation from different quarters and more is in the offing. But the house that they live in is just the way it was.

“Our only indulgence has been an iPhone for my son because his sister wanted to get him a cellphone,” the mother says, as she cries out aloud.

The father says he will use a part of the money for the family’s needs, and the rest for a noble cause, such as getting poor girls married. “It will make me feel as if I’ve got my own daughter married,” he says.

His elder son is still not happy. The 20-year-old was preparing for his engineering exams when his sister was killed. He has now been given a government job as a junior assistant with a public sector undertaking on a monthly salary of Rs 18,000. But he wants to be a pilot, if not an engineer. “What’s wrong if I aim for more,” he asks while displaying a large cardboard cut-out with messages that arrived last week from students of Purdue University, US. “This gives us hope that we aren’t alone in our fight.”

The girl’s family is limping back, but her friend feels as if he’s been left alone on the battlefield. “Her family treats me like a stranger,” he says. “I had always been a well-wisher of the family. It hurts to see that they have abandoned me.”

It troubles him that he’s all alone. “It’s tough to be a survivor. But I have been left behind to tell a tale,” he says. The assault has left him with stomach ailments, a foot injury and coccyx pain. “I have spent close to Rs 17 lakh on medical bills and other sundry expenses. And I received no help from anyone.”

He lives in a one-room rented flat. He can’t leave the city because as a prime witness he has to appear regularly in court. His belongings are packed in a bag and his future is uncertain. “I am a nomad till the time the verdict comes out. I can’t put my heart into a job or setting up a home.”

His family in Gorakhpur, Uttar Pradesh, wants him back. The eldest of six siblings, he has three sisters and two brothers. His lawyer father runs a non-government organisation for empowering women and he wants to join his father. “I also want to launch a magazine in my friend’s name to keep her memory alive.”

He looks at the bus stop from where they boarded the bus and notices how people have moved on. “Till a few months ago, there were posters all around demanding justice for my friend. Now there are posters about the launch of a new radio channel,” he says. “Life goes on.”