I was in a dilemma, whether to write about it or not. I did not want to talk about it for a few days, and then let it fizzle out from the memory , till the next instance happens. This is what happens to us, all the time. We make hue and cry every time, we hear the news stories flashing the details of a child, girl, women, being raped, we march protests, we share hashtags, we discuss the degradation of society, we demand justice, we detest the perpetrators …. and than the memory fades away. We forget all about the nirbhayas and their families and their pain and sufferings. We become too busy, commuting to work, cooking, delivering presentations, earing salaries , tending to kids, until the monsters strike again. I wanted it to be etched in our memories forever,to haunt all of us for years to come, so that we are forced to act. i wanted all of us to be united and ensure justice is delivered. I wanted us to force the lawmakers to act and the society to drive a change. I wanted no #kathua or #unnao or #surat to ever happen again.
But today as i write, it is not because i feel it is going to make any difference , infact in all probabilities, it never will. The law and the lawmakers, the criminals and the conspirators, the public and the thoughts, it all will remain the same, as rotten as they can be. This is a post, to help no one but myself, it is to vent out the anguish and the pain, the fear and the stress , that i feel as a women.
Today , when i write, i am devoid of any hope , not just for India, but for the humanity. How low are we capable of stooping? If the incessant suffering of an 8 year old cannot shake us, nothing else ever will. I remember how Martin Luther king once said “Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.” And as a nation we have been silent for too long.
It cringes me to the core, to think, some of us, are making it a religious , political issue. How can they? How some sick B*****ds who have abducted and drugged and raped an innocent child , can belong to any religion? Or how we can not think of the immense torment and agony the little girl would have endured, and can only think of what religion she belonged to? To think like that, makes us as inhuman as those criminals. I feel a clench in my stomach, as i read the gut wrenching, gruesome details. And my head hangs in shame, as i cannot bring that child back to her family, as i could not save her from the trauma, as i belong to a society who treats their daughters worse than they treat animals. I can’t even end this post saying i hope she gets justice, as probably deep down within, i know, she won’t.
Unlike the usual , this story does not have a happy ending, it never will. It ended with the child struggling for her last breaths and we failing to save her.