Monday was declared the day of national mourning! The rape victim, despite best efforts from doctors and prayers of the entire country, had succumbed to her injuries. She had been violated with such barbaric brutality that her soul decided to carry its search of a humane world elsewhere, away from this patriarchal world where a woman is considered safe only under the shadows of men in her life – her father, her husband, her brothers and her son.

The next day, Saksham and Asif gathered at the India Gate, along with thousands of other protesters. Banners and placards of various sizes filled the landscape. They stood near the edge of one lawn, trying to catch a bit of the receding sun, hoping to dry their clothes wetted by the water cannon the police had used a while back to control the protesters.

“Thank God, it is February.” Asif was shivering. “If it was January, I would be dead by now.” He gave a shaky smile as the cool breeze made him shudder. “I think they should use hot water in winter months. After all, we are their own countrymen, not from Pakistan, you know.”

“They know if they use hot water, people like you will come ready with towel and soap,” Saksham joked. As his gaze scanned the horizon, he got serious again. “What’s the plan now?”

“What do you think? We have toured the entire area and have seen them all – the NGO groups, political parties and, even the yoga guru.”

“That is what I find so damn crazy!” Saksham shook his head. “We are here with thousands of protesters, but still feel so isolated. All of us are mad over the same thing, but there is no effort to unite us and work for a concrete solution. It is like the protest is a goal in itself.”

“Well, what do you expect? We are Gandhi’s nation… we believe any problem can be solved if we march out in enough numbers. Protest runs in our blood, soon it will be part of our DNA,” Asif smirked. “By the way, there is one thing that unites us all… we all want death penalty for those rapists.”

“But, isn’t that so impractical? The court will not grant death penalty just because people are out on the roads demanding it. Besides, we all know how slow our courts are.”

“Personally, I appreciate that people are showing solidarity against bad governance. I know it is too early to say something, but may be something will come out of this. May be it will force the government or the police to do some tidying up,” Asif tried to stay optimistic. “May be it is just the beginning of a revolution, and as we move forward, this force may become stronger and stronger.”

“Something, someday, somehow, and too many maybe’s… sounds like the perfect future of a developing nation,” Saksham sneered. “These words are just blind hope… nothing will ever come out of them.”

The post Something, someday, somehow… the future of a developing nation! appeared first on Meaningful Fiction by Sanjay Kumar.