Back from Delhi.

Rome, 6th February 2017

I came back from India few days ago. The documentary shooting has been an emotional rollercoaster for the whole crew. We’ve been dwelling deep in some unbearable atrocities as torture, child abuse, violations of the basic human rights, everything that surrounds the specific crime of acid attacks.

I’ve seen the slums of Delhi, of Haryana, of Bhajanpura, places where human life is worth nothing, where stray kids and dogs roam the streets with no place to go.
I’ve seen the luxurious palaces of Gurgaon, where wealthy families live sheltered in shiny oasis protected by armed guards.
I’ve seen the dirty rooftops of Agra, the grey skyscrapers of New Friends Colony rising from the smog, the markets and the villages and the cows wandering on the highways.
I’ve seen the disfigured face of a two years old child attacked with acid and thrown in a dumpster because his mother refused the sexual proposals of a neighbour.
I’ve seen a woman who became blind after an acid attack thirteen years ago, forced to live in the darkness since then: as she said “all light, all colours were suddenly gone forever.”
I’ve seen a twenty years old girl who was forced into child marriage at the age of ten, abused by her husband and her mother in law since then, even after she gave birth to two children, and finally attacked with acid by her husband. Now she is forced to keep living with him cause he threatens to take away their children from her.
I’ve seen a woman abused by her husband for years, finally attacked with acid while she was pregnant. She got a miscarriage because of the wounds, then her husband escaped with their firstborn child, and since then they have never been found. She lost everything and was left blind in one eye, disfigured, heartbroken.
I’ve seen a brave father confessing that someone in a hospital suggested him to kill his own teenage daughter after she was disfigured with acid, because she was “ruined, useless, no one will marry her”.
I’ve seen a skinny female dog feeding her puppies inside a dumpster, her eyes full of despair.

I’ve seen so much desperation. In some moments I felt my whole being cracking up and falling into pieces.
But I knew we had a mission: to tell the stories of this brave women and children and fathers and brothers who decided to fight and not succumb to their destiny.
We had the mission to tell that there is hope even the darkest places.
This thought, and the restless support of the crew kept me going: the courage of Ria and Tania from NGO Make Love Not Scars, the passion and talent of Chiara, Greg, Alejandro, Karan, Thomas, and everyone who helped us around Delhi.

We accomplished our mission. Two weeks flied, and time came to get back home. The new chapter of the documentary adventure starts now: editing, post production, festivals submissions.
We’ll make the world hear those stories. Stories of despair and darkness, from where the light of Hope arises, undefeated.

In the upcoming days and weeks I’ll post more photos of my trip, both reportage and backstage of the documentary shooting.
I’ll end my post with a portrait I took in the poor area of Bhajanpura: a little girl with piercing eyes.