Two weeks ago, after one of her post-graduate classes, she and a male friend boarded what they thought was a commuter bus to head home. The girl was brutally gang-raped by the men on the bus. Brutal is not a strong enough word for it, not when the men, after taking their turns with her, savagely mutilated her internal organs with an iron rod and then used it to beat her male companion before leaving them both for dead on the side of a highway.
The fact that she lived for two more weeks is something a miracle. The fact that this sort of thing happens daily, perhaps even hourly in India is unspeakable.
For the past two weeks, Delhi has raged, protested, rioted. Roads have closed, metro stations closed, friends have been tear-gassed, the out-of-touch have offered platitudes and formed “committees,” they say we should forgive and forget.
There should be no forgetting.
Thank goodness for the young people here who have protested, shouted, lit candles and stood their ground. They are the bright, shining beacon of hope in all of this.