Nirbhaya to Abhaya, Isn't It Enough?

Before writing anything at all, I want to ask: Is offering compensation to a family a solution to such horrific crimes? Can it undo the trauma? Can it return the time and energy invested in raising Abhaya, in helping her become a doctor, only for her life to be brutally snatched away? Most importantly, does it ensure it won't happen again to another family?

 In December 2012, India witnessed one of the most horrifying cases of gender-based violence. A 23-year-old physiotherapy student, now known to the world as "Nirbhaya," was gang-raped and tortured on a moving bus in Delhi. The brutality of the crime shocked the conscience of the nation and the world. Protests erupted, laws were amended, and promises were made. Justice, as people were told, would be swift and severe. And yet, here we are - over a decade later, mourning another life taken in the same brutal manner.

 This time, Abhaya, a young doctor in Kolkata, faced the unspeakable. The details of her rape and murder are chillingly reminiscent of Nirbhaya's ordeal: grievous injuries, brutal sexual assault, and a system that failed to protect her - and a nation filled with shame. On August 9, 2024, Abhaya's body was found in a seminar hall at RG Kar Medical College in North Kolkata. Initially, the authorities claimed it was a case of suicide and attempted to convince her family of the same. However, the brutality of the crime soon became apparent. According to the postmortem report, Abhaya suffered ten grievous injuries, including broken bones—her finger, collarbone, and pelvic bone was shattered. She was bleeding from her eyes, lips, abdomen, and private parts, and tufts of her hair had been torn out. A clip was attached to her private parts, further signifying the horrific nature of the attack.

 Despite these findings, there were efforts to remove evidence, reportedly under the guise of renovation near the crime scene, seemingly in a bid to protect the institution's reputation rather than pursue justice for Abhaya, a rising doctor who dedicated her life to saving others, only to lose hers in the most inhumane way possible. And yet again, we find ourselves asking: When will this end?

 Both the Nirbhaya and Abhaya cases expose the glaring failures of a nation's legal and social protection system. Despite the promises made after Nirbhaya, women continue to be unsafe, even in what should be their most secure spaces - on public transport, in hospitals, in their own homes. Compensation and empty promises from authorities have become the standard response as if money can somehow erase the pain or replace a life.

 After Nirbhaya, India's people demanded change. And yet, ten years later, they see the same pattern of violence, the same indifference from those in power. The police arrested a civic volunteer, Sanjoy Roy, who confessed to the crime and confidently said, "Hang me if you want." I wonder: What kind of upbringing leads to such monstrous behavior? What values were instilled in this man? How can a legal system allow him to feel no guilt, no fear for committing such a heinous crime? How was he even employed in a civic volunteer role with such character?

 This raises crucial questions about accountability at home and within the broader social protection system. Are we raising our sons to respect women, to understand consent, and to value human life?

 The responsibility begins at home, where boys must learn that their power over women is not a birthright but a dangerous misconception. But this responsibility does not lie solely with families - it extends to the nation's social protection system and its initiatives to safeguard women. What is the government doing?

 The nation's legal system has proven itself inadequate time and again. It's not just the laws that are at fault - it's the implementation, the enforcement, the attitude of those who hold power. The practice of offering compensation as a band-aid solution instead of addressing the systemic issues is an insult to the victims and their families. It sends a clear message: We cannot protect you, but we can pay you to keep quiet.

 This approach does nothing to solve the problem of gender-based violence. It does nothing to deter future crimes. It does nothing to honor the memory of the victims. Instead, it perpetuates a culture of impunity, where perpetrators feel they can get away with their crimes, and victims are left to suffer in silence.

 How can people respect a system that only reacts when the outcry is too loud to ignore? How can they trust a system that prioritizes public relations over public safety? The irony is, it's not just these two women - the countless others whose names we will never know. It's the daily assaults, the constant fear, the never-ending fight for justice.

 The failure to address gender-based violence perpetuates a cycle of fear and repression. It keeps women from participating fully in society and from pursuing their education, careers, and independence. It is a shame - no, an outrage—that we, as women, live in societies where justice is delayed, denied, or manipulated. Our system should protect us, but instead, it is failing us. When we need transparency and accountability, we are met with closed doors, hush money, and half-hearted investigations. This sends a message to women across the nation and the world: We are not safe here. Our dreams, ambitions and very existence can be destroyed in an instant, and there may be no justice at all.

 It is not enough to simply create laws and amendments in response to public outrage. Real change requires a cultural shift driven by national campaigns, education, and community engagement. Governments must take the lead in promoting gender equality, not just through policy but through sustained efforts to reshape societal norms. What is being done to dismantle the toxic masculinity that fuels this violence? What are the concrete steps being taken to ensure that women feel safe in their own country?

 These are questions that must be answered not just in India but worldwide. Gender-based violence is not confined to one nation; it is a global epidemic that requires an international response. Governments and international non-government organizations across the world must prioritize the protection of women through legislation, law enforcement, and comprehensive education programs that start at a young age. The world needs to recognize that this is not just a women's but a human rights issue.

 How can we talk about gender equality when half of the world's population lives in fear? How can we celebrate women's achievements when they are constantly at risk of being violated, humiliated, and silenced? The progress of our society depends on the safety and dignity of our women. Without that, no amount of legislation, no number of empowerment programs, can truly achieve equality.

We need real change.

 We need our system to protect, deliver justice, and value the lives of women, even before such shameful incidents occur - not just in a single country but across the world. Governments and international non-governments must go beyond reacting to crises; they need to proactively create environments where women are safe, respected, and empowered. The state has a crucial role in this - through legislation, law enforcement, and national campaigns that educate and empower the population.

 But this isn't just about governments and institutions. It's about a collective will to confront this violence head-on. It's about us - parents, teachers, communities - demanding better from our society and ensuring that future generations do not inherit this legacy of fear and repression. This cycle of violence must end, and it must end with us - demanding accountability, raising our voices, and refusing to accept anything less than a society where women are safe. This is enough.