By Preeti John
An 8-year-old girl is sedated and brutally gang-raped for days by grown menin a temple no lesswho wanted to bring fear into her community and drive them out of their village in Kathua, Jammu and Kashmir. And in Unnao, Uttar Pradesh, a 17-year-old girl attempts suicide after efforts to file a case against BJP MLA Kuldeep Singh Sengar, who she claims raped her in June 2017 came to naught.
Do you really need me to tell you why you should be enraged by these incidents?
These are but brief details of both cases, but it should be enough to bother you.
No? Then try this for measure:
In Kathua, the Hindu Ekta Manch, claiming support from the national ruling party, has marched to stop the Jammu and Kashmir police from investigating the crime. It should come as no surprise that members of the opposition are also part of the group. The local lawyers’ body attempts to stop the filing of the chargesheet, which presents the grisly details of what appears to be a premeditated crime. Special police officers Deepak Khajuria and Surender Verma have been named in the chargesheet for rape and murder. Also named are head constable Tilak Raj and sub-inspector Anand Dutta for allegedly taking bribes from the accused to destroy evidence.
In Unnao, the girl and her family have faced repeated police and political pressure to give up their fight against Sengar. After nearly a year of inaction, a fight erupts between the girl’s and Sengar’s family. The girl’s father is promptly arrested and soon dies in police custody, even as the police belatedly takes action against Sengar and his family.
We have failed these young girls, and scores of others like them, on every count. In life and in death. We have failed them as humans (on this I agree with the minister of state for external affairs General V.K. Singh). But there is one greater count we have failed on, and that is our sustained sense of revulsion at the rapes and murders, both political and otherwise, and at the subversion of justice.
This isn’t just about politics and ideology. This isn’t about religion. This isn’t about feminism and child rights. It is about all of these and more, about what we have become as a society. It is about our acceptance of the status quo. Why aren’t we more enraged?
I cried when Nirbhaya diedlike countless other young people across our country. My tears fell because I ached with the fear of facing the same fate, with remorse at a life lost so young, with disdain at the ease with which her rape was committed, and with anger at the status quo that was bound to continue. But I, like most others, forgot.
Five years on, Kathua, Unnao and many others remind us of the same.
This time I have no tears. I am numb. I knew then that nothing would change after Nirbhaya, just as it hadn’t before her, but to come face-to-face with itexperience it, see it, hear it and know it through the testimonies of the brave women who’ve refused to be silenced, and through the fear of those who haveis disturbing beyond measure.
Yes, people are angry and upset once again, as they very well should be. Marches and protests will be held. People will call for action and retribution. Promises of change will be made. Due process will take its course. Perhaps the crimes will be punished. But eventually, we will all move on, forget about our anger, our disgust, our morality. Until the next horror.
Why should we resign ourselves to momentary outrage, mere shrugs, and acceptance of ‘things that won’t change’? Is it easier for us to accept and move on than it is to recognise what’s wrong and what must change once and for all?
It is never just one incident, one victim, one bid for justice. It should be about ending the rot once and for all, about bringing about lasting change, about being better than our past. Our sustained outrage can force authorities and institutions to act and implement change. We need better policing and more stringent laws. We need systemic and structural change. We need determination and commitment from the ground up and the top down for things to finally look different.
So go on, let the rage engulf you. Let it take over your voice so that you can be heard. Channel the rage you feel into dialogue with your MLA and MP, they represent you. Channel it into who you vote for, your choice matters. Channel it into what you expect your country to be for its citizens, don’t accept this state of affairs. When anger, and determination, is all you feel, then they can no longer ignore you, your rage, or our problems.
It’s time for India to stop being no country for women and children. Instead, it should be no more Nirbhaya, no more unnamed victims, no more silence.
And please Mr Prime Minister, speak up! Your people are waiting.
Preeti John is Qrius’s Editorial Head.