It was early days in the Covid-19 lockdown in March 2020. Everything had come to a standstill – schools, shops, public transport. There were too many restrictions on movement.

That’s when Shakti Shalini, a Delhi-based NGO supporting survivors of gender and sexual violence, received a desperate call.

Sunil*, from Nepal, had lost contact with his sister, Simran*, who lived in Delhi. After trying several organisations, he finally reached Shakti Shalini’s 24/7 helpline.

Simran got married six years ago and lived with her husband’s family in a West Delhi neighbourhood. They had two daughters. Her family had financially supported her husband’s higher education to become a Chartered Accountant. But now, Sunil said, she was terrified.

The last time she spoke to Sunil, she told him she had overheard her husband and mother-in-law plotting to kill her. “We will say she died of Covid, and no one will investigate,” she had heard them say.

After that call, Sunil couldn't reach her. He was overcome with panic. He feared they had killed her.

“I am worried something might have happened to her. Please find out,” he pleaded.

Shakti Shalini’s team of two quickly got to work. Normally, they would rescue the woman straight from her address, but Sunil didn’t know it – except what area she lived in Delhi.

They sought help from the police, but the police were dismissive.

“Madam, this is a big area. How will we find her [without an address]?”

the police told them, citing lockdown duties as their priority. The duo was used to police apathy. Yet it frustrated them each time they faced it. 

They decided they would have to do some sleuthing on their own. They could not rely on the police. 

Sunil had given the Shakti Shalini team the husband's phone number, but calling directly to ask for his address would raise suspicion, and make matters worse for Simran. They decided they would pretend to be government officials. 

They called the husband. “We’re distributing free rations due to the lockdown,” they told him, “and want to send some to your home.”

He fell for it and shared his address.

With the address in hand, Shakti Shalini coordinated with the police and the Delhi Commission for Women (DCW). But the police had another excuse up its sleeve: “There’s no vehicle available.” 

It took some convincing to show that the matter was urgent. Eventually, the police agreed to assist.

The police and the DCW team reached the house. They found Simran, alive but scared for her life. 

“They will kill me. I can't live here. Please take me from here,” she begged. 

She had no other place to go. She would need shelter. But instead of taking her to a shelter home, the police brought Simran and her two daughters to a police station and started “counselling” her.

“Go back home,” they told her. “Home is safe. Where will you go in this pandemic? These people [at shelter homes] will sell you to traffickers.”

The police tried to convince her to go back to her abusive husband’s house.

“If they wanted to kill you, they’d have done it by now. Why would they keep you for so long?” one police officer told the woman in distress.

The police also suggested dropping Simran and her daughters at a government shelter home, against her will. But Shakti Shalini’s team stood firm by Simran.

Simran stood her ground, insisting to go with Shakti Shalini's team, and the police finally agreed. She was dropped off at the shelter home run by the non-profit.

At the shelter, Simran opened up about the abuse she had endured and how her husband had tormented her for years. 

After a few months at the shelter, Simran safely returned home to Nepal to her brother.

Simran was fortunate. Most women who face violence in India are not. 

This story was shared with The Reporters’ Collective by Monika Tiwary, a coordinator and counsellor at Shakti Shalini’s Crisis Intervention and Counselling Centre.

There are countless stories like Simran’s, of how women trying to escape abuse and violence, seeking safety and justice face apathy from authorities.

This account comes from a firsthand rescuer.

Starting tomorrow, The Reporters’ Collective will bring you investigative reports that interrogate the failed system while bringing stories from the ground. A series on how nearly 12 years after the Nirbhaya tragedy, women’s safety in India remains a story of broken promises, neglect, and systemic apathy.

*Names have been changed to protect the identities of individuals mentioned in the story.

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This investigation is partially supported by the Appan Menon Memorial Trust Award to The Reporters' Collective.