In 2002, Yogita Bhayana was heading to a movie with a friend when she spotted a man bleeding on the roadside after an accident. No one else stopped; she took him in her car, holding him as he weakened, and rushed to the hospital, only to face staff indifference that delayed critical treatment until he died.
“That person died because he did not get treatment in the hospital on time. I was not what I am today, I couldn’t shout for help or demand they do their duty,” she recalls. This raw, shocking trigger propelled her from aviation glamour to becoming one of India’s fiercest anti-rape activists.
An Unconventional Path
Bhayana’s journey into activism defies the conventional path. “This is the other way round,” she tells The Logical Indian. “I always wanted to be in a social space. And that airline thing happened by mistake.”
She had volunteered for social programs throughout school and college, yet never envisioned focusing on sexual violence. “I had no idea that I’d enter this space, where I’d be talking about rapes and supporting the survivors,” she explains. “As a child, I always wanted to do something in education, health, whatever you get to understand as a child and social issues.”
Aviation provided the financial independence to fuel her dreams. Joining Kingfisher Airlines, she rose quickly amid its glamour and high pay, working seven years to build savings. “I was craving to start my foundation when I was like a teenager,” she reflects. “So when I was flying here and there, I was always thinking about when I would do this.”
Fighting for the Widow
After the 2002 accident, Bhayana began assisting the victim’s widow. The legal case took four to five years, but when the widow received substantial compensation, it gave Bhayana clarity about her next steps.
“I could not get her husband back,” she says. “But when she got a decent compensation, that gave me some kind of satisfaction, because I was with her, because I gave the witness, because someone stood by her, she reached to this level. How many women must be needing this kind of help?”
In 2007, Yogita Bhayana quit her aviation job to launch her Das Charitable Foundation, focusing initially on empowering widows and single women she had seen struggling. Her first project trained around 100 women in unconventional skills, 40 learned car driving to become cabbies, while others mastered car cleaning, basic engineering, and home repairs. “I wanted to give them skills which are unusual, very out of the box,” she explains. “Some things which men are doing, which we think women are not considered for.”
The initiative faced steep challenges in a less progressive era. “By then, we were not as open as we are today,” Bhayana notes. “It is a very difficult space for them… they have to go through a lot, the patriarchy, how it is difficult for them to convince their family members.” This hands-on work laid the groundwork for her later organization, PARI, which expanded into comprehensive survivor support and prevention against sexual violence.
Working Within the System
Pursuing formal education, Bhayana earned a postgraduate degree in rehabilitation and disaster management while volunteering with the Delhi government to gain expertise and enter hospitals. She joined a committee that overhauled a government hospital, improving infrastructure, staff attitudes, behavior, and training. Her passion impressed Health Minister Dr. Kiran Walia, a dynamic leader who implemented Bhayana’s ideas; when Walia became Women and Child Minister, Bhayana continued advising on women’s issues, raising awareness across Delhi.
By 2011, she volunteered with the National Commission for Women (NCW) as an inquiry member, traveling nationwide to probe rape cases. This eye-opener revealed the depth of sexual violence: “That was the entry into that space where I understood… crimes like sexual crimes,” shifting her focus from economic struggles to brutality against women.
Yet bureaucracy eroded her patience. “I knew they were there for women, but the speed was really slow. I wanted to change things very fast. But in government, nothing works at that speed,” she says. Frustrated by sluggish decisions, except under fast-moving Walia, Bhayana grew disillusioned, priming her for independent action.
The Nirbhaya Case and Becoming an Independent Activist
The December 2012 gang rape and murder of a 23-year-old woman in Delhi changed Bhayana’s approach. “I just blasted,” she recalls. “I said no more working with the government. I want to be an independent activist. I started raising my voice against the same government I was given the opportunity to because I could understand their way of working.”
The protests that followed gave her hope. “I had never seen something like this,” she says. “For women, I think this was the first ever protest in the country ever. And the kind of people that came forward, from households to children, to men, to everyone, all age groups.”
At that time, she believed Nirbhaya would be the last such case. “That kind of confidence we had, because of the kind of support we had,” she explains. But cases continued, the Gandhinagar Gudiya case and others followed. “I kept thinking, ‘Okay, this might be the last case. Maybe this will shake the government.’ Governments have toppled and changed, but unfortunately, nothing has changed.”
Bhayana admits feeling responsible. “I sometimes feel guilty, like maybe we have not done enough. I have not done enough,” she says. “Maybe we could not raise our voice properly. So I hold myself responsible somewhere.”
PARI Foundation: Support and Prevention
Through PARI (People Against Rape in India), a youth-led non-profit founded in 2013, Yogita Bhayana addresses survivor support and prevention of sexual violence, offering psychosocial aid, legal handholding, judicial navigation, rehabilitation, and grassroots sensitization to end victim-blaming.
For survivors, PARI bridges gaps in government aid with interim medical funds, pro bono lawyers, counseling, case monitoring to prevent intimidation, and tailored rehabilitation. “We give them interim money for their medical treatment,” she explains. “Case by case, if they need anything which will support her healing, we help with that skill. Every case is unique.”
Prevention emphasizes awareness in schools and colleges, social media campaigns, street actions, and advocacy, like securing juvenile justice reforms and urging parliamentary sessions on women’s issues. Central is the “WeMen” campaign, enlisting men and boys: “WeMen is the campaign,” Bhayana tells The Logical Indian. “We are not anti-men. We want men to get involved, when they become change makers, they create a ripple effect.” Volunteers pledge to respect women, avoid objectifying language, and quit eve-teasing, then engage underprivileged peers.
Strikingly, 80% of PARI’s volunteers are men and boys. “Most of our volunteers, 80%, are men and boys. That’s the best thing. Nothing works better than involving men and boys,” she says. This inclusive model amplifies impact toward a “Rape Free India” vision.
Identifying System Failures
Based on her frontline experience, Bhayana identifies deep systemic flaws despite robust post-Nirbhaya laws. “Basically, we have very good laws. After Nirbhaya, we had very good laws. But implementation-wise, we are very, very poor,” she says. Tedious paperwork remains pro-criminal, placing the onus on victims to prove assault even as laws shift it to the accused on paper.
Police form the first barrier, often prejudging victims. “The moment a girl goes to a police station to register her FIR, they start making comments. They start judging her. They start thinking she’s lying,” Bhayana explains. “They always say false cases, They have that pre-set notion in their mind that every girl is lying. Because there are some false cases, you cannot negate the fact that there are mostly women suffering.”
Compounding this, officers lack specialized training. “They don’t have tools, expertise, and training to do the evidence collection. They deal with multiple cases, so they goof up at that level,” she notes. Weak charge sheets fed to unsensitized judges yield dismal results: “Clubbed together, we have a conviction rate of less than 27%.”
The judiciary mirrors patriarchal biases. “They need to be more sensitive. You’ve seen recent comments from the judiciary itself, how they perceive a woman,” Bhayana asserts. “At the end of the day, they are men sitting there, coming from the same patriarchal mindset. They always judge a woman, whether she’s lying or not. They should be part of women training.”
Power, Politics, and Protest Pressures
Bhayana addresses how political power distorts justice in high-profile cases like Hathras, Unnao, and Ankita Bhandari, where influential figures protect perpetrators and leave victims more vulnerable. “Not politicization of all cases, but we expect politicians not to indulge in crimes. When they do, that becomes the headline,” she clarifies. While most rapes involve ordinary citizens, a troubling trend sees politicians backing or committing such acts, a pattern echoing older cases like Jessica Lall and Nitish Katara, demanding heightened scrutiny.
She condemns the intensifying crackdown on public protests, where police are told to be brutal yet show no empathy for victims’ pleas. “They don’t have sensitivity, why is someone sitting there, what is her demand? Do you think it’s our hobby to protest through winter or summer?” she warns. “This recent trend of silencing voices signals real danger for our democracy.” Officers risk suspension if they waver, placing obedience above compassion.
Advocacy on Juvenile Justice
Bhayana was vocal during debates on the Juvenile Justice Act amendment. “We were saying if a person can be that brutal at this age, he should be treated as an adult,” she explains. “We were not asking to hang everyone. In rarest-of-the-rare cases, juveniles need to be tried as adults.”
She stresses a balanced, rational stance. “I work with children, so I don’t want them punished, I’m totally against that,” she clarifies. “But where brutality involves murders of children and women, those perpetrators should be tried as adults.”
Managing the Emotional Impact
The work exacts a heavy emotional price. Bhayana confronts victims’ dead bodies and harrowing details daily. “It does take a toll. I will not lie,” she admits. “It just makes me very disturbed when I meet a girl who’s like a two-year-old child, three-year-old, any woman who has gone through this.”
She has forged coping strategies over time. “My work involves awareness programs, advocacy. I go to colleges, I meet the students. These are the brighter sides,” she says. “I’ve learned to do it as a professional, not as someone who’s very emotional personally, like a doctor with their patients.”
Social media trolls draw no reaction. “I don’t look at trolls. I don’t even look at the appreciation,” she says. “I don’t give a damn to these trollings. I feel sorry for them because they have their daughters in their house. They have women in their house.”
Mission Rape-Free India
For 13 years, Bhayana has hosted the National Convention on Prevention of Violence Against Women and Children every December 16, Nirbhaya’s anniversary, bringing together diverse voices for action-oriented deliberations. Two years ago, she elevated it into a five-year “Rape Free India” mission, now targeting policymakers and stakeholders with reports shared directly with the Prime Minister and parliamentarians.
She has persistently urged Parliament to dedicate at least two days annually to women’s issues, a request pending for eight years, alongside school awareness, social media drives, and street advocacy.
“I know it sounds very visionary or maybe euphoric, but I really wanted it to start like that,” she tells The Logical Indian. “Maybe if we start like that, things might change a little at least.” Her book, Rape Free India, charts the path: “Everyone has told me it can’t be stopped. It can be stopped. We have seen countries where the tolerance level is zero. There are no crimes against women. We want to take them as role models.”
Society’s Desensitization and Media’s Role
Bhayana laments society’s growing numbness to sexual violence. “People have become immune to it,” she observes. “It has become the new normal. People do talk about rape cases, they feel bad, they meet me and say, ‘Okay, very sad, very bad.’ But nobody wants to do anything.”
She credits the media for sustaining awareness. “Whatever little we get to know, it is because of the media,” she says. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t have gotten it and we wouldn’t have reached this level. They can’t raise all the cases, but wherever they are, they are doing the job.”
The Logical Indian’s Perspective
From a roadside tragedy in 2002 to spearheading India’s fight against rape, Yogita Bhayana’s two-decade arc, from aviation professional to PARI founder, proves one person’s resolve can pierce systemic inertia. As The Logical Indian has chronicled her journey, her urgent survivor support and prevention advocacy fill critical voids where institutions falter.
Her bold five-year “Rape Free India” mission invites skepticism, yet Bhayana’s proven tenacity, altering cases, policies, and attitudes one step at a time, embodies the purpose-driven impact we celebrate in this series.
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