01/09/2024
Perhaps everything will soon fall silent, the candle will melt away, and the fire burning within people will flicker out. That girl's parents will continue to look on like the mythical Chataka bird, waiting in vain for justice to be served. Maybe someone will be caught, maybe they'll truly be guilty, or perhaps they'll just be another scapegoat for the powerful.
A few days in prison might follow, with work opportunities and wages even available inside. If they stay long enough, they might even get a break. And if mental instability can be claimed, it's all the better for them.
But that hospital will continue to operate as usual, and soon, everyone will forget the second-year student. The seminar room will go on as before, as if nothing happened.
Somewhere else, on another street, another girl will face the same fate. Schools, colleges, tuition centers, offices, buses, trains, hospitals—who can say which places are safe anymore?
Even in death, she's questioned—why was she alone? Had she lived, how many times would she have had to endure a living death?
Hospitals are compared to temples, doctors to gods, and women to goddess Lakshmi. But in a temple where even the gods are unsafe, justice is a mere luxury.
Whether you're a doctor, nurse, teacher, lawyer, police officer, housewife, elderly woman, or just a five-year-old child, your identity remains the same—you are a woman, an object to be consumed, a piece of flesh.
May no more daughters be born from any womb, may no more cries of baby girls be heard in maternity wards. Let every female fetus be extinguished in the womb, and may no mother ever dream of giving birth to a goddess Lakshmi again.
Perhaps only when this world is free of women can this sin be eradicated."
