Charcha Time: When Outrage Fades, Who Keeps Fighting For Justice?
· Free Press Journal
Less than two weeks ago, a video from Bihar’s Jamui showed two Class 10 students returning from coaching allegedly stopped, assaulted and molested on a road. Outrage was swift and arrest followed. Social media filled with hashtags, feeds fill and attention quietly moved on while survivors still wait for justice. The harder question is whether anger can become a pressure on legal institutions. Satya Tirtharaj Ghosal moderates a debate.
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Rajat Kanti Mondal, CPI(M) Activist & Advocate at Baruipur, West Bengal
Not a lack of anger, but a lack of structure. I'd question the premise. Nirbhaya, Hokkolorob and RG Kar all brought people onto the streets. What we lack is staying power, and the reason is organisational.
Why the protests fades due to fee hikes have student unions behind them. Sexual violence has no natural home. Every case is local, survivors fear exposure, and we rebuild from scratch each time.
Online, a hashtag can spark, but it can't summon a police officer or a judge. Only a crowd outside a police station can. The screen is safer, with no lathi and no FIR, and anonymity helps survivors speak. But algorithms reward attention, not outcomes.
People don't tire of injustice. They tire of anger with nowhere to go. Give it a campus complaints cell or a legal-aid desk, and it becomes work. Work outlasts anger.
What holds the people back. The first question at any march is "which party is behind this?" Add trolling, doxxing and selective outrage, and staying home looks rational. We must be honest about this, parties included. The remedy is consistency. Once we rank victims, we have already lost the argument.
What would make it last. Three hands working together. AIDWA brings stamina, students bring bodies, creators bring reach. Each fails alone. Demands that outlast a verdict. "Hang the accused" ends when the verdict comes. Police accountability, fast-track courts and street lighting take years of pressure, and a budget. Solidarity across class and caste, so a Hathras gets the same vigil as a Park Street.
Outrage is a feeling. A movement is a routine: people who keep turning up after the trend is gone.
Esha Das, Advocate at Calcutta High Court
We have normalised the abnormal. Over 30,000 rapes are recorded yearly in NCRB data, and many never reach a police register. Outrage flares after Nirbhaya, Kathua, Hathras or RG Kar, then fades while the failures stay. Dalit, Tribal and rural survivors rarely get the vigils, like a metro city case does.
On paper, we have the 2013 and 2018 amendments, POCSO, Zero FIR, the BNS and BNSS. In practice, we get refused FIRs, character-based questioning and decade-long trials. The laws are not the failure, negligence is. Adjournments, hostile witnesses and lakhs of pending cases tell young women silence is cheaper than speaking out. People protest when they believe it works, those who believe nothing will change withdraw.
Many women don't know they can file a Zero FIR, claim free legal aid or compensation, or have their identity protected. Awareness turns fear into leverage, but legal literacy stops at the city limits. Rights not explained in a survivor's own language are rights in name only.
Coverage dwells on clothing, timings and graphic details instead of asking why the FIR was delayed or the trial stalled. It judges the survivor, not the state.
We need compulsory FIR registration with penalties for refusing officers, enough judges and special courts, trauma-informed trials without character-based cross-examination, witness protection, compensation that actually arrives, and consent education in schools.
Women are no longer petitioning a system we had no part in building, we are entering it as lawyers, officers, judges and legislators. Every woman who argues a case or sits on the bench makes negligence harder to sustain.
Dishari Paul, Media Professional
Whenever I hear about a sexual-assault case, my first feeling isn't just anger. It's heaviness. I imagine what the survivor endured, then wonder why we keep hearing the same stories. What disturbs me most is that something which should shock us now fills our feeds almost daily.
I speak out when silence feels more uncomfortable than my fear of getting involved. I don't want my silence to become another reason someone's pain is overlooked. Joining a protest means "I may not know you, but I believe you deserve justice, and I refuse to pretend this is normal."
Sexual violence is wrapped in stigma and conditioning, so many hesitate, fearing judgement or victim-blaming. Repeated exposure also numbs us, and outrage slides into helplessness. We care, but there's a gap between being disturbed and publicly confronting it.
Social media can be the spark, not always the fire. We mistake visibility for action as black screens, a hashtag, and the issue vanishes beneath the next wave. Our influence matters only when it moves beyond the screen, as at Jantar Mantar.
Trust in institutions feels fragile. If RG Kar incident, despite receiving enormous attention, still leaves questions about justice, what of the cases no one sees? Trust must be earned through transparency and accountability.
I would take to the streets when silence disturbs me more than protest. Online, I can say I care. On the streets, I stand behind it.
Urmi Pal, B. Tech Student in Computer Science
My immediate reaction is anger, sadness and frustration. As a woman, it is disturbing to watch sexual violence happen again and again. Staying silent only makes it easier to ignore. Whether I speak out or protest depends on the seriousness of the case, whether the victim is getting justice, and whether my participation can build real pressure for change.
Young people connect with issues that touch daily life or trend online. Sexual violence is uncomfortable, so many avoid it, fearing victim-blaming or believing protest changes nothing. This silence must change.
Social media awareness alone is not enough. Posts give visibility, but change needs peaceful protests, petitions, support for survivors and demands for accountability. Gen Z has a powerful voice online but we must use it responsibly offline too.
Seeing so many cases leaves me helpless and angry, especially when justice is delayed. But as an independent woman and a feminist, I refuse to let helplessness become silence. Accepting such incidents as "normal" is more dangerous.
Charcha Time: Are Political Labels Killing Democratic Debate?My trust is mixed. Delayed investigations, long trials and weak accountability erode confidence. Institutions must earn it through transparency, timely action, survivor protection and consistent enforcement.
I would protest most against clear injustice: institutional inaction, silenced survivors, needless delays. I would do it peacefully, demanding accountability rather than creating outrage. Speaking up is about building a society where women live with dignity, safety and equality.