The Echo of Silence

It’s hard to find the right words, but this is something I can no longer keep inside. Even after 78 years of independence, it’s painful to admit that as Indians, we have failed. We have failed as citizens, as human beings, and especially as the youth of this nation. This Independence Day—this 15th of August—will be remembered as one of the darkest in our history.

It was the early hours of August 9, around midnight. I remember that I was enjoying a late-night movie with my roommates, most of you might be sleeping peacefully in the comfort of your homes, surrounded by the protection of your loved ones. But not everyone has that luxury. The brave soldiers on our borders, the doctors in our hospitals, and countless others work through the night to ensure our safety, to make sure we can live our lives without fear. They sacrifice so that we can sleep peacefully.

But what do we give them in return?

On that same night, August 9, a 31-year-old doctor, a second-year resident, was doing just that—serving her nation in a 36-hour shift. Exhausted, sleep-deprived, she needed just a moment to sit down and rest. She entered a seminar hall in her hospital to catch a quick nap, unaware that it would be the last rest she would ever take.

The next morning, her lifeless body was found. She was covered in blood, her clothes barely covering, her body bruised, her glasses shattered into her eyes. Her private parts had been brutally assaulted. This was not just a murder; it was a grotesque violation of her humanity. A doctor—a healer—treated like an object to be broken and discarded.

Who will answer for this? How will anyone explain to her family what happened to their daughter? Science tells us that even after a person dies, their brain remains active for about 6 minutes—flashing back their memories like a film. What did she see in those moments? The faces of her attackers? Her screams for mercy? Her desperate fight to live?

Is this the progress we talked about?

On the 15th of August, a day meant to honor our freedom, the nation instead stood in protest for this doctor, demanding justice. We may not have been there to protect her, but we stood together to show that there is still goodness in this world. We stood to remind her that while evil exists, there are also people willing to fight for what is right. We stood to say: “We are with you. We will fight for you.”

Now before some of you say, she must be hinting, what was she wearing? , she should not have gone alone outside at night... let me stop you right there. She was wearing a white doctor’s coat, and a stethoscope around her neck. She was inside her own hospital. She was serving humanity.This incident shook us to our core, reminding us that not everyone around us embodies humanity. Some hide their true nature behind a facade of smiles, revealing themselves as predators in disguise. It's a terrifying...

How many candles must we light before we see a change in society? How many more Bilkis Banos, Nirbhayas, and similar of these cases will it take before we awaken our collective consciousness and raise our voices for true reform? Each sacrifice calls for a stronger stand, yet the change we seek remains elusive.

To all the parents and brothers out there—when you teach your daughters about danger, about how to protect themselves, don’t forget to teach your sons about respect, about what’s right and wrong. Teach them that it’s not enough to avoid committing a crime—you have to stand against it. Because next time, it could be someone you love.

That doctor wasn’t just someone’s daughter or sister. She was a savior, next to God in her duty. And she deserved better from this world.

Our independence is meaningless if we cannot protect our own. Let’s build a future where this horror never repeats—where every daughter, sister, and mother is safe. Remember, every single voice matters. Don’t think that one person alone can’t make a difference; every significant journey begins with a single step, and every reform starts with the courage of one individual.

We owe it to her. We owe it to ourselves.

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