A Nation in Silence: Justice That No Longer Screams
In a country where temples tower, trains thunder, and protests shake the streets—one sound has faded into eerie quiet.
Since 2020, India has carried out no executions.
Not for rape.
Not for brutal gangrapes that shattered communities.
Not for the children whose names never made headlines.
Not for the women whose stories went viral, only to be buried beneath hashtags, candlelight vigils, and legal delays stretching into oblivion.
The Last Time We Burned—Nirbhaya
The last time justice felt like a fire was in 2020 when the perpetrators of the 2012 Nirbhaya case were finally hanged. It wasn’t about celebrating death—it was about demanding justice that was long overdue.
It was a scream, released after years of shame, outrage, and global scrutiny.
Since then? Silence.
No hangings.
No final accountability.
Not when a six-year-old was discarded in a field.
Not when Dalit girls were raped and silenced in Uttar Pradesh. Not when a doctor was raped in a hospital in Kolkata. Not even when the system knew and still chose delay over action.
Where Are the Death Sentences?
The laws haven’t changed.
The death penalty is still on paper.
Section 64(1) of the BNS still exists.
The "rarest of rare" doctrine remains a cited principle in courtrooms.
In 2022 alone, over 31,000 rape cases were officially registered. And those are just the ones we know about.
Yet, courts remain overwhelmed.
Jails, overcrowded.
Fast-track courts, sluggish.
And the public? Exhausted. Numb.
Justice in the Age of Virality
Justice feels more digital than real—a post, a protest, a viral reel, a fleeting news headline.
Then, silence.
Women are encouraged to speak up.
But when they do, they’re doubted.
When they cry, they’re dismissed as dramatizing.
When they fight back, they’re accused of ruining reputations.
So their voices shrink.
The fires fade.
Justice becomes just another word.
What Do We Truly Want?
Not bloodlust.
Accountability.
A justice system that moves—not in hashtags, but in courtrooms with real consequences.
More than symbolic death sentences.
Speed, security, and sensitivity—so justice doesn’t take eight years to declare that a life mattered.
A nation where survivors don’t have to beg to be believed.
A country where not burning doesn’t mean not caring.
And maybe, just maybe...
We hope India hasn’t burned
because it’s finally healing.
But until every woman walks without fear—
We haven’t healed.
We’ve just gone silent!
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