An Incessant Pursuit

A nineteen-year old girl goes to a market. Two men in their twenties follow the girl and attempt to molest her. The girl summons her courage and slaps the men. In return, she gets thrashed by the two men in a crowded marketplace of Karauli’s Hindaun city. 16 December, 2012, a girl is brutally raped and abandoned in the heart of my nation in place that had many onlookers but no one to aid. Had she been taken to the hospital on time, she would have been continuing her medical studies. Uttar Pradesh’s Badaun district- two girls are raped and hanged on a mango tree. Their corpses keep suspending on the mango tree for hours in a state that can send shivers down your spine. Yes, those spectators were present there too who were clicking photographs, recording videos and circulating them. Outraged? Well, I pity such people. Now let us cogitate on the aftermath of such events. First, such incidents manage to gather copious of commiseration. People express their compassion and sorrow at such

“We think that poverty is only being hungry or homeless. The poverty of being unloved and uncared for is the greatest poverty.” The music beats thumped, the air conditioner froze and the eatables were swallowed. We were returning back home after attending a relative’s birthday party. On our way back, we paused at the red light junction, and a thought struck my mind . She seemed to be of the age of seven or eight years. Hair all messed up, ragged clothes, disheveled appearance and a baby in her arms. She sat on the footpath with folded laps, looking after the child. She was situated there staring us, and a grin covered her little face. She sat still and stared us, each and everyone in the car. The red light went off and we drove away, leaving the little girl behind. This is something so frequent at the red light stops. No one cares to even take note of that vagrant’s plight. They sit there the whole day, whether it is the scorching summer or the shivering winters. No timely f