Surakanti Koushika
This article was born out of a recent incident that left many feeling unsettled. A few careless words spoken in public, touching upon the pain of sexual violence, briefly caught attention and then slowly faded away. But for some, those words stayed. They reminded us how easily suffering is spoken of, how quickly it is forgotten, and how often empathy is missing when it matters the most.
There are moments when a nation feels tired—not of struggle, but of waiting. Waiting for justice that promises relief but arrives too late, or sometimes not at all. Laws exist, words are written, and systems function on paper, yet for many, justice remains an illusion.
When violence is committed against a woman, the pain does not end with the crime. It continues in police stations, courtrooms, and living rooms where silence is forced and blame is redirected. Instead of asking why the crime happened, society asks why she was there. Instead of demanding accountability, it searches for excuses. The wound deepens, not because law is absent, but because empathy is.
Time becomes another form of punishment. While survivors relive their trauma every day, those accused often move freely, protected by delays and procedures. Justice that moves slowly does not heal—it exhausts. Each postponed hearing, each unanswered question, tells the victim that her suffering can wait.
What makes this pain heavier is ignorance. Many people do not know their rights until they are violated.Children grow up learning stories, slogans, and symbols, but not the meaning of law, responsibility, or consequence. The Constitution remains a distant document, admired but unread. When knowledge is missing, fear replaces confidence, and silence replaces resistance.
Perhaps the deepest failure is not legal, but social. We have learned to look away. If injustice happens next door, we call it unfortunate. If it happens to a stranger, we scroll past. Concern awakens only when suffering enters our own homes. This selective compassion creates a society where pain is isolated and injustice feels safe.
We praise progress, comfort, and modern life, yet forget the sacrifices that shaped our freedoms. The values of justice and equality were not gifts; they were earned through courage and resistance. When we stop caring, we betray that legacy.
Justice is not only about punishment. It is about dignity. It is about standing with those who are broken when it is inconvenient to do so. A society that teaches its people to care only for themselves cannot call itself strong.
A nation does not fail in a single moment. It fails slowly—when silence becomes normal, when empathy fades, and when justice becomes something we hope for, rather than something we demand.