Geeta Mohar was sleeping with her infant daughters when her husband poured acid on her because he had wanted a male child. The youngest was killed, while Netu, then two, lost her sight. “Life became very difficult. We were ostracised by society,” said Mohar. “No one would talk to us and there was a lot of harassment.”

More than two decades later, however, Mohar and Netu, now 24, have jobs in a new cafe, run by an NGO in the city of Agra, home of the Taj Mahal. All the staff are acid attack survivors. Working at Sheroes has given Mohar, a former maid, “some dignity and a sense of purpose in life”, she said. “Now we feel we have a family and loved ones. We try not to remember our past and we feel positive and feel that future will be good.”

Last year, according to research by the Acid Survivors Foundation India (ASFI), 349 people in India, mostly women, had acid thrown on them in deliberate assaults. Many were seriously injured; some died. The number is three times higher than in 2013 and more than four times higher than in 2010. Only half around the total number of attacks come to light, according to the NGO, which compiles the statistics through press reporting and research by their branches across the emerging south Asian economic powerhouse.



Against this grim backdrop, Sheroes is a rare beacon of hope where the aim is to help change perceptions of the survivors of acid attacks and to allow them to regain some confidence. There are no set prices and customers pay what they feel is appropriate for snacks or craft items. There are now plans to set up other similar ventures, also funded by donations, elsewhere in India.

“These people are fighters and they don’t give up. They are not victims,” said Bill Eykman, a 63 year old property consultant from Brisbane, Australia who had come to Sheroes while touring Agra.

Alok Dixit, who runs Stop Acid Attacks, http://www.stopacidattacks.org, the NGO which set up the café, said the new statistics showed acid attacks were “becoming mainstream”. The ASFI’s totals are roughly in line with new official figures collated for the first time in the last year. “We are also seeing acid used more in gang fights and cases of personal enmity too. It is still very widely available and is very cheap,” Dixit said.

Used in urban areas to clean toilets and sinks – in many villages there are neither – concentrated acid costs less than 50p for a litre. India’s supreme court has repeatedly warned government officials to take tougher action to cut the rising number of acid attacks.

“Seriousness is not seen on the part of government in handling the issue,” a supreme court bench of judges said in a ruling two years ago after hearing a plea by an acid attack survivor for regulations limiting the sale and purchase of acid. “People are dying, but you are not worried about it. Think of people who are losing their lives every day. Girls are being attacked every day in different parts of the country,” the judges said.

For Ritu Shaini, that day came one afternoon three years ago. The then 20-year-old had gone out to play volleyball and was walking alone through her home town of Rohtak, in a deeply conservative part of northern India, to the school where she practised when she was attacked by two teenagers on a motorbike. “I couldn’t see anything as soon as the acid was thrown on me,” she said. “I fell down on the street. I screamed but no one came forward to help.”

Saini suffered very severe burns to her hands and face, and lost much of her sight. An older cousin had organised the attack, paying nearly £2000 to two petty criminals. All three were jailed for life.



“He liked me; I used to ignore him,” said Saini. “Before I used to think, ‘Since I’m going through so much pain, why should he not suffer? Should his face not destroyed by acid as well?’ But now all I want is that if he comes out [of prison], he should feel guilty and not do this to some other girl.”

In 2013 the supreme court ordered the government to limit over-the-counter acid sales to people over 18 who provided identification and a reason for the purchase, and stipulated that about £4,000 should be paid to survivors within 15 days of the attack for preliminary medical care. However enforcement is limited. “The supreme court has given orders again and again but ... there is no licensing at all outside cities. Officially acid is banned but nowhere is that the reality,” Dixit said.

Many campaigners say causes lie not just in the availability and cheapness of acid, but in deeper cultural and social problems that are particularly acute in northern India and have led to a surge of violence to women. “Around a third of attacks are due to spurned advances, jealousy. Elsewhere in the world it is often about land disputes or family rivalries. In India it is more to do with male egos,” said Mukul Varma, director of the north India chapter of the AFSI.

In 2012 the gang rape and murder of a 23-year-old student on a bus in Delhi, the capital, prompted outrage and grief. However a slew of measures, ranging from gender sensitisation training for police to tougher penalties for rape and acid attacks, appear to have had little impact.



Most victims come from poor families and cannot afford medical care, or go deep into debt. Others are threatened by their attackers to force them to withdraw witness statements or charges.

Saini was forced to drop out of school after she was attacked. Now, though, she has a renewed sense of purpose. “Since I started working in the cafe, life has been good,” she said. “Earlier I used to remain depressed, thinking, ‘Why did it happen to me? Did I deserve all this in life?’ Now my mind remains diverted as I am busy with work and the horrific past memories don’t come back easily.”