Dehradun, As dusk settles over Thani village on Old Mussoorie Road here, dinner preparations begin inside homes. But outside, another routine is taking shape.
Women who have finished their household chores or returned from work pick up lathis and step into the lanes. Some take the evening shift, others arrive later at night, and for the next few hours, they keep watch over the village, stopping unfamiliar faces and asking a simple set of questions: Where are you going? Whom are you meeting? Why are you here?
Their aim is the same: to keep their village lanes safe from the narcotics trade and those who come looking for drugs.
Nestled in the hills, Thani appears at first glance to be like any other quiet, picturesque village of Uttarakhand, with lush greenery, cool air and peaceful lanes. But a poster displayed prominently in the village offers a glimpse of anxiety that lies beneath the tranquillity.
“Cannabis and marijuana are banned. Legal action may be taken against sellers and buyers,” it reads.
It is around this poster that women can often be seen standing guard. Anyone they consider suspicious is stopped and questioned, and those they believe may be headed towards the village for drugs are prevented from proceeding.
This is not a government campaign. It is a citizens’ vigil launched by the women of Thani under the banner of Nari Jagriti Sangathan.
For local resident Sudha Badhani, the decision to take to the streets came after the problem began affecting the everyday lives of the residents.
“It had become difficult to even come out on the road. We could not go for walks. Children could not go to the shops. We were afraid to step outside,” she said.
The women said Thani is located close to a settlement where there have been longstanding complaints of drug sales. They alleged that people coming to the settlement to buy drugs often pass through Thani, with some addicts entering the village believing they could find drugs there.
Residents said the situation worsened during the Covid pandemic and the lockdown.
Initially, the women approached the police and administration, hoping for action. Complaints were made and applications submitted, but when they felt the situation was not improving, they decided that waiting for action was no longer enough.
“At first, we thought this was not our job and that it was the responsibility of the police and administration. But when things went beyond control, we had to step out ourselves,” Badhani said.
The campaign, which began around two months ago, has now become part of the village’s daily routine. Women form different groups and keep watch from morning until late at night. Whenever a suspicious person is spotted, a message is sent to their WhatsApp group: “Everyone, get here.”
The response is immediate.
A woman may leave her cooking midway. Another may ask her children to remain indoors. Those who work join the vigil immediately after returning home. The women in their 20s stand alongside those in their 60s and 70s.
Women who manage their households generally take the evening shifts, while working women often keep watch at night. The patrolling sometimes continues until midnight and, on occasions, even beyond that.
Local resident Lalit Dhiman said a system resembling shifts had gradually been put in place. He claimed that during the initial days of the campaign, as many as 100 people were stopped from entering the area in a day, although the number has now fallen considerably.
For the women, however, the biggest concern is their children.
“Most of us are mothers. We do not want another mother’s child to have his or her life ruined because of drugs,” said Ansuya Rautela.
The women said they have faced abuses and threats because of their opposition to the drug trade and that there is always a risk of confrontation. But they are not prepared to back down.
“Whether it takes one year or two, we will continue until this problem is completely eradicated,” Rautela said.
Sunita Sharma, president of the Nari Jagriti Sangathan, said the situation became particularly serious when children and elderly residents began finding it difficult to venture out on the road.
“Some addicts even started knocking on our doors, asking for drugs,” she said.
Following this, the women held a meeting, formed the organisation and began keeping watch.
The campaign has also tested their unity. Resident Rita said attempts had been made to create differences among members, but the women remained united. “We know that if we fall apart, this campaign will crumble too,” she said.
The women, however, emphasise that they are not seeking to replace the police. They said patrols and action have continued and that some suspicious people have also been handed over to the police.
Yet their presence on the streets raises an uncomfortable question: Why should women in a village have to keep vigil until midnight for their children, homes, and streets to feel safe?
The women of Thani believe that action against those selling drugs alone will not solve the problem. As long as there is demand, new routes will be found to supply narcotics. The vigil, therefore, is directed at both ends of the trade those who sell and those who come to buy.
And so, as darkness descends on Old Mussoorie Road, two versions of Thani emerge.
Behind closed doors, dinner is being prepared, and children are being put to bed. Outside, at one bend, four women stand together with lathis in their hands. In an adjacent lane, another group keeps watch.
When an unfamiliar youth heads towards the village, a voice rings out: “Where are you going?”
It is a simple question, but behind it lies a larger fight for their children, their streets and the ordinary life they want back, where a mother does not have to worry before sending her child out.
This article was generated from an automated news agency feed without modifications to text.
