Over 6,000 people in Kolkata participated in one of the largest non-political marches in the city's history to protest the brutal gang rape of a 23-year-old student in Delhi. Protesters walked silently along Park Street holding candles and banners with messages calling for justice and teaching men to respect women. Though intended to end at a train station, the police stopped the march at a cathedral out of concern for traffic flow, but recognized it as a peaceful protest. The vigil drew attention to laws regarding women's representation and safety, as participants called for educational reform to prevent such crimes in the future.

1. OPINIONS 2919
06
VOL.
NO.
CHRONICLE
THE NANYANG
K
OLKATA, INDIA — The sky
had turned purple, and was
streaked yellow when small
groups of people began to gath-
er at the Esplanade Metrorail
Station, near Park Street, the heart of
India’s Eastern Metropolitan. Ishika
Sharan, 19, wore black and an expres-
sion, that could translate to either grief or
determination.
“Put that away,” she said, seizing my
camera. I could tell that for her, and many
others present, this was a very personal
affair.
On 16 Dec, a 23-year-old medical
student was beaten, brutally raped for 45
minutes, and then thrown out of a moving
bus in South Delhi at about 9.30pm.
Six days later, 1500 kms away, Kolkata
witnessed one of its most meaningful-
marches in a long time. I skipped my
birthday dinner to attend it, and never
regretted it.
More than 6,000 individuals of all ages
and backgrounds walked along Park Street
for about an hour — from New Market to
St Paul’s Cathedral — to show their sup-
port for the Delhi victim. Armed with my
camera, I wanted to get some good shots of
the evening, but emerged eventually with
not a single snap but a different mindset.
This was a march backed not by political
agenda or selfish ends, but by a newfound
awakening — to fight the ills of society and
to strive for justice.
The Kolkata Police described it as the
largest non-political march in many years
and I felt a strange sense of pride to have
been a part of it.
The banners prepared for the occasion
were truly outstanding. Bold letters spelt
out “Teach your son better”, and probably
the most thought-provoking: “Am I next?”
By 7pm, we had reached the busy in-
tersection of Chowringhee. Owners of tea
stalls, and the small roadside vegetable
shops stood up to look. Some even joined
us. Not a single word was spoken, except
when the crowd occasionally burst into a
unanimous chant.
“Justice!” they shouted, but were
immediately shushed by
volunteers who wanted
to maintain the sanctity
of the silent candlelight
march.
The procession was like
an island of calm sand-
wiched between the bus-
tling streets. Candles were
lit at this junction. The
matching paintwork of the
taxis beside us intensi-
fied the orange hue of the
candlelight.
A lt houg h t he wa l k
was supposed to end at the
Rabindra Sarovar Train
Station, the police intervened
when we were in front
of St Paul’s Cathedral,
and the walk came to
an end. This was so
that traffic flow was
not hindered, and
order maintained in
the city.
I was upset, but
also glad that at least
the police had taken
notice of our silent
protest. The organ-
iser later told me that
they had cooperat-
ed till the very end.
Volunteers planted
their candles at the
gate, and observed si-
lence for the girl who was
wronged in an unimaginable way.
The warm glow of the candlelight illumi-
nated the many faces of the city against
the pitch-dark sky. Among them was a girl
in crutches, and a group of senior citizens,
who had completed the walk.
The man behind the march was a stu-
dent Altamash Hamid. The event’s Facebook
page had garnered nearly 49,000 followers,
across borders, with about 8,950 promising
to attend. The page, together with word of
mouth, eventually brought like-minded
people to make the vigil a success.
Altamash told me: “I had a feeling that
the people in India are ones of words and
not action. I had always thought that they
literally sit at home, tune into news chan-
nels and passively express the grief they
feel. But on 22 Dec, thousands of people
turned up and proved me wrong.”
The vigil also drew attention to the
Women’s Reservation Bill, which demands
33 per cent representation for women in the
lower house of the Parliament or the ‘Lok
Sabha’. “The law of the country has let its
women down. This will never change until
women get to make their own laws.
A critical mass is required for them
to make a noticeable change,” said Ritika
Bose, a student of economics present at
the march.
What should be done with the rapists?
For many Indians, capital punishment is
the only answer.
“Castration!” said Ms Paula Basu, a
businesswoman who was at the candlelight
vigil. Utsav Manjeer, a student at Cornell
University, commented on the suggestion,
“A stringent law, yes.
But while castration and capital pun-
ishments are deterrents, for violent crimes
like rape and murder, the spur of the mo-
ment dominates every other rationality.
Education is key.”
Women. After years of tears and strug-
gle of being treated as the weaker gender,
one would think they have come a long way.
Today, 21st-century women seem to be
making a mark in ways one could never
imagine even a few years ago.
But evolutionary mindsets are difficult
to change in many countries. Sometimes,
this façade is broken in the most unimagi-
nable ways.
The peaceful protests in Kolkata city
were neither noisy nor violent, but their
message was loud and clear: What does it
mean, to be a woman in the 21st century?
'Nirbhaya', which literally translates to
'fearless', was the name given to the un-
named girl, is our clarion call.
She died in Singapore’s Mount Elizabeth
Hospital, but if she had lived, she would
never have been able to eat solid food again.
Were the rapists men or beasts?
Some saw this incident as the seventh
sign of the impending apocalypse. Maybe
the Mayans were right.
All I can say is, let there not be any
more sacrifices before the government sits
up and takes notice.
The message was loud
and clear: What does it
mean to be a woman in
the 21st century?
louder than words
Silent, angry and candle-lit, one of the largest non-
political rallies in Kolkata's history took place after the
brutalNewDelhigang-rape.DipshikhaGhoshwasthere.