Last year, an upper-caste person in Himachal Pradesh had locked a 12-year-old scheduled caste boy in a cowshed for the 'crime' of entering a space meant for a dominant caste. She demanded a goat to ‘purify’ her home; the boy, fearing his family could not afford it, consumed poison. Such an incident is not an aberration; the scale of the crisis is reflected in the National Crime Records Bureau’s Crime in India 2023 report, which recorded an astonishing 57,789 cases of crimes against SCs. These transgressions are, arguably, symptoms of the practice of spatial untouchability.
Homogeneous enclaves strengthen this spatial divide. In many areas, people of the same caste reside together, a pattern visible in rural India and now in modern towns. In some instances, private property owners allot plots by considering not only the price but also the caste identity of the purchaser. This kind of segregation creates an invisible divide where dominant castes often treat the marginalised as territorial intruders. The rituals of purity and pollution are ever present. Areas occupied by upper castes are often treated as a purity zone; the moment the SC boy entered such a space, he was turned into a pollution liability, which necessitated the payment of an economic fine. Needless to say that this exclusion thrives not only because of social differentiation but also administrative complicity in upholding such discrimination.
The ministry of home affairs has directed the establishment of SC/ST Protection Cells and Special Police Stations to handle complaints of caste atrocities. An evaluation study shows that while the former entity exists largely on paper, SPSs have been set up in only six states. Thus, victims of caste atrocities are usually forced to visit local police who often ignore their mandated duties under Section 4 of the Scheduled Castes and the Scheduled Tribes (Prevention of Atrocities) Act, 1989.
Revealingly, once a case is registered, the hospital often emerges as the second site of victimisation. Instead of promptly conducting medical examinations, medical processes are delayed. In the Hathras gang-rape case, the crucial forensic examination was performed only 11 days after the assault. The delay violated the principle of fast-track justice pledged under Section 18A of the Act. The reports, Caste-Based Sexual Violence and State Impunity and Flaws in India's Medico-legal Examination, show that medical reports are either delayed or written in a way that minimises the violence, with caste bias compromising forensic objectivity.
Even if a case reaches court, victims still face social ostracisation. In segregated villages, Dalit communities are often economically dependent on dominant caste groups. Another related phenomenon is that of witnesses turning hostile in the face of social intimidation. In Mahender Chawla & Ors versus Union of India & Ors, the Supreme Court acknowledged that the main reason for witnesses turning hostile is the lack of protection by the State. Incidentally, the court-approved Witness Protection Scheme 2018 lacks a strong legal obligation on the part of states to implement it effectively.
A nation’s progress is not measured by its digital infrastructure or global standing, but by the safety of its most vulnerable child in a neighbourhood. Every state should establish SPSs in its districts, and the legislature should enact a uniform witness protection Act.
