On 9 August 2024, just days before India’s 78th Independence Day, the brutal rape and murder of a 31-year-old trainee doctor at a state-run hospital in one of the country’s oldest cities sparked widespread fury, underscoring the persistent and pervasive violence against women that continues to plague the country. From the tragic cases of Geeta and Sanjay Chopra, Naina Sahni, Jessica Lall, Soumya Viswa nathan, and Nirbhaya, to the re cent atrocity against Tilottama/ Abhaya, each incident has shoc ked the nation, sparking waves of protests. These cases dominate headlines, unleashing a tidal wave of public outrage.

Yet, the fervor eventually subsides, and the incidents fade from public memory often as those in power intend. Tragically, this cycle does not account for the hundreds of similar cases that fail to capture media attention, remain unreported, or are deliberately suppressed. In each case, the crime not only claims the victim’s life but also severs ties with family, friends, and society. Public outcry often leads to voluminous reports, new laws, and strengthened regulations. Yet, the cycle of violence continues. In Kolkata, feminist grou ps, doctors, and youth marched in unprecedented protests. While these actions stretch the ethical horizon and demand exemplary punishment, they have limited impact on addressing the root causes of such violence, for reasons that remain painfully clear.

Consequently, the graph of sexual violence in India continues to rise unchecked, with the darkness engulfing our nation deepening each day. Despite protests and calls for change, we have failed to dismantle the systems that perpetuate violence and nurture cycles of cruelty from a young age. The socially reprehensible killings, such as that of the young doctor, are symptoms of a deeper issue that burdens the conscience of sensible individuals. Despite its various manifestations across the country, this dehumanizing social disease remains impervious to laws alone, no matter how robust. One of post-independence India’s greatest failures has been its inability to foster a society that truly confronts genderbased violence.

We have fallen short in educating the public, mobilizing political will, and allocating resources to address these societal threats. At the community and family levels, we often overlook the severe consequen ces of children gro w ing up in environments marred by dishonesty, conflict, domestic violence, corruption, bias, and cruelty. Such conditions cultivate insensitive, irresponsible, and antisocial behavior. There are other factors at play. To be human is to be conscientious, yet many allow their conscience to awaken or remain dormant depending on the issue. This selective morality undermines the foundation of civilization. Despite having a conscience, we often let it remain muted. Why and how? Let me explain. In times of crisis, opposition parties seize the opportunity

to criticize the government, question law and order, and rally public support. Yet, when these parties were in power, their actions were hardly different, and upon regaining power, they are likely to follow the same path, given the country’s political history. The objective across the political spectrum remains to defend the government at all costs rather than take moral responsibility. Even more disheartening is the role of some intellectuals, celebrities, and politicians who, despite their prominence, often fail to address such atrocities with the needed urgency and clarity.

When they do speak out, their responses are typically superficial or tepid, driven more by pressure than genuine concern. This is troubling given their significant influence over public opinion. As Martin Luther King Jr. famously said, Silence is betrayal, yet many of these influential figures choose or try hard to remain silent, driven by motivations that are all too familiar. In a transactional world, the special treatment and privileges afforded to intellectuals, achievers, and politicians by governments often suppress their dissent against ruling establishments. Positions of power, political favors, and lucrative awards become irresistible, effectively buying their silence. Despite these ominous signs, we continue to elevate them to higher pedestals.

Imagine if these prominent individuals genuinely joined street protests or unequivocally condemned atrocities like those suffered by Abhaya. While their participation alone might not eradicate such violence, it could significantly galvanize the nation toward meaningful change. In West Bengal, as elsewhere in India, there is a stark disconnect between the people’s pleas and the political will of the government regarding cases like those of the young medical professional. It is time for us to heed the urgent call of our conscience, regardless of social standing.

The choices we make today will determine whether we emerge stronger or succumb to the forces threatening our future. As protests gain momentum, the call to action grows louder. The youth on the streets embody the hopes for a better future, and it is for their generation and beyond that we must direct our focus. These young citizens, the torchbearers, demand more than basic norms and rights; they yearn for good governance. Those en trusted with public responsibility must recognize that failing to honour that trust forfeits their moral right to hold positions of authority.

For meaningful change to occur, India must confront and dismantle the deeply entrenched patriarchy, discrimination, and inequality that pervade our ho mes, families, cultural practices, social norms, and religious traditions. Only by addressing these systemic issues can we build a society capable of preventing atrocities like the one suffered by the young doctor. Demanding such fairness is no longer merely a societal ob jective; it is an imperative in an era where civility, equality, and justice are under severe threa

In conclusion, let me quote a stanza from Rashmi Trivedi’s poem My Dying Conscience:

When I hear about a rape or a murder of a child,

I feel sad, yet a little thankful that it’s not my child

I cannot look at myself in the mirror It dies a little

(The writer, a former DGM, India International Centre, Delhi, and former GM, International Centre Goa, is the author of Whispers of an Ordinary Journey)