Trying Not to Cry

She was a young girl, 23 years of age, just out of a medical college, opening her eyes to a new and promising world. She came to Delhi in the hope of a better life. Delhi – the city of greater opportunities, broader roads, and taller buildings than the town she hailed from. Little did she know when she had happily set foot in the city, and bid farewell to her teary eyed father, assuring him that she was a young empowered Indian woman who had to be in the capital city of the country to realize her true potential, that one fateful day when she would be going home in a bus with a male friend for company, she would be brutally raped, beaten with iron rods by half a dozen animals and thrown out naked to die.


It was wee hours of morning when she was heading back from office along with a colleague. US Shift of a call-center ends at that time. Young girl in Delhi on a beautiful and quiet morning tired from fatigue, wanting to head back home as soon as possible and crash on her bed so that she’s bright and active for the next day. She was in her thoughts, planning what she could quickly fix for herself to eat before sleeping when a car stopped by and pulled her in. The car smelled of liquor and before she knew it there were brute hands ripping her. She had long lost consciousness before the monsters dumped her somewhere in the outskirts.


A young college student of Delhi University; about 18 years of age was done with her classes and was on her way home. No auto rickshaws in sight, she began walking to the bus stop when a car stopped by to ask for an address. The helpful girl that she was she gave the instructions when the man in the car asked her if she wanted a lift. Hesitant and wise, the girl refused. But the man insisted. About 50 years of age, he assured her he was like her father and she could trust him. Needless to say he broke her trust and scarred her for life.


A final year medical student of a very prestigious medical college in Delhi was on her way home when some goons cornered her. They snatched her bag at knifepoint and began rummaging through it only to find there was hardly any money in it. Realizing this steal was a waste of time, they decided to make good of the bad situation. They took the girl to a nearby heritage site (Delhi is full of old forts, most of them are archeological heritage sites) and took turns to rape her. The youngest of the perpetrators was 13 years of age.


My Entry for Inspirational Monday this week.

I wish I could say these are works of fiction, but unfortunately that won’t be entirely true. All these “stories” have a strong base in reality. I rarely write about real life affairs, but I couldn’t keep myself this time.

My head hangs in shame. I have been let down by my country and by my city, where I was born, where I have lived for most part of my life. It has not happened once, it has not happened twice, it has happened so many times that I have lost count.

These are just some of the crimes that get reported. There are so many that go unheard, so many where the victim is victimized further by the legal system or by their own families, so much so that they just flee the city to never return or simply quit.

And what about the men who don’t commit the crime but aspire for it in their hearts? What about the next man I see ogling at me when I am walking on the streets? What about the one who scans me “discreetly” when I am not looking or choosing not to look?

Times like these make me wonder, this entire chase for money and financial stability at a national level, for showing the world how promising a nation we are, is it worth it? When we are so infected and rotten within that we have brought almost our entire population to a state of sheer disgust and helplessness, what use is an honorary stamp from the outside world? I think we should be exposed for what we are. We should feel ashamed of our deeds, because that’s what truly defines us.

The first story is the most recent of the series of ghastly incidents that have plagued the city of Delhi and has created an unprecedented nationwide uproar, of which I am glad. I am happy that even the international media picked up the story. We deserve the public ignominy.