When the Candles Burn Out: A Reflection on Our Collective Disillusionment

I was still in school when the Nirbhaya case gripped the nation. It was like a cold splash on my numb face—a wake-up call that jolted us all from the comfort of our ignorance. I marched, I protested, I lit candles, and I screamed until my voice was hoarse. I was certain, like many others, that this collective cry for justice would bring about real change. The light of those million candles seemed destined to illuminate a safer tomorrow.

But as time passed, that light dimmed. The momentum of the marches slowed, the power of our protests faded, our voices grew quieter, and with them, our hopes for a better world slipped away into the darkness.

In the years that followed, I grew up, and I learned. I learned to disengage, to disassociate. I became adept at changing the channel, at flipping past the pages of horror in the newspaper. I taught myself to ignore the brutal realities that played out in places like Manipur, Hyderabad, Hathras, Unnao Mumbai, Birbhum, Kandhmal and many more names that should have been etched in our collective memory but are all too often forgotten. Not because I didn’t care, but because it was easier. Easier to ignore than to confront the crippling fear that these horrors could happen to any of us.

And it struck again ….. this time in Kolkata - in a hospital none the less! In her workplace! Workplace! Wasn't it supposed to be a safe space???

I tried to keep doing the same, tried to build walls around my mind to keep the terror out. But this time, I couldn't. This time, the walls crumbled. How much longer can we pretend? How much longer can we survive in a world where no place is safe, where nothing is sacred?

I see the candles being lit again, the marches being organized, the outrage spilling into the streets. But this time, will we see justice, not delayed but delivered? Will we see the change we've been yearning for? Or will these flames, like before, flicker out, leaving us in the dark once more?

And if we allow ourselves to feel—truly feel—will we ever feel safe again?