Warning: This video contains distressing content
It felt like my skin was melting in drops, just as when plastic is burnt.
How a play about the Delhi gang rape made me fearless
I still remember that day, 24 December 2000.
Dinner was done.
I was cleaning the kitchen counter.
as it was nearing my son’s bedtime.
When I heard the word 'Nehu'.
My husband used to lovingly call me that.
My husband didn’t pause to think, came in angrily, and slapped me hard.
I covered my face with my hands expecting another blow, as I was used to the regular beatings for dowry.
But I didn’t get a moment to react.
I used to paint and my brushes were lying dipped in kerosene in a glass. He threw the brushes in the kitchen sink.
He picked up a matchbox, lit a match, and said: 'Here you go.'
Almost instantly I caught fire.
My neck, chest, stomach and as I tried to defend myself, the insides of my arms.
All of this was witnessed by my son, who was three and a half years old.
He just kept shouting:
'My mother is on fire, you burnt my mother.'
I remember my uncle asked me: 'What happened, who did it?'
I gestured towards my husband, asking to hand him to the police.
Nobody listened.
My husband was a big shot, so no police complaint was made.
No-one took my statement.
As for my parents, they never looked out for me.
Instead, they told my friends and the relatives in our village that I had died.
When Sneha came out of hospital her son was her only comfort.
The stench from my body had seeped deep inside me.
All the time the smell of blood and pus would haunt me.
And it felt like my body was rotting, and that’s why it stank so much.
My four-year-old son would look at my white-pink face and say:
'Mumma you are looking beautiful, like a pink baby.'
His peck on my cheek, his hugs, they gave me confidence.
That I had to live for him. And I will.
Two years and eight months later, my husband took my son and left home.
I haven’t seen my son since that day in 2003.
That’s when I started my journey as a survivor, as a fighter.
In 2012 a gang rape in Delhi caused public outcry.
The press called te victim Nirbaya, meaning fearless.
I turned on the news and they were flashing that a girl had been gang-raped.
When I hear of others’ pain, it triggers my own.
And because I live alone, it was also scary for me.
The attack on Nirbhaya led women to break their silence...
around gender violence and inspired a play.
Sneha was tthe only non-actor in the cast.
The play Nirbhaya was based on real-life testimonies.
Women recounting the violence they had been subjected to.
Almost daily, we broke down many times.
But the team was very supportive and caring.
The play taught me many things.
It kept growing in scale and we did more than 300 shows globally.
Young, beautiful boys would kneel down and ask me: 'Do you see your son in me?
'You can treat me like your son from today.''Anytime I'm there with you.'
God had kept me alive. It was an opportunity to make a new identity for this face.
But the stigma has prevented Sneha from finding work.
I used to get selected for interviews done over the phone.
But when they saw my face, they would say the job had already been taken.
This lack of opportunity led me to train as a tarot card reader and become a healer.
After Nirbhaya I learnt a lot about other people’s pain.
I broke out [of my shell] and decided to do more social work.
Over the last 10 years, society’s attitude towards burn and acid survivors
has changed somewhat.
I don’t consider myself any less than a Miss World or Miss Universe.
I say I am beautiful, so I am.