The Nirbhayas of Kashmir: We owe an apology

By
Ziraat Times
-

Follow Ziraat Times on Whatsapp - Join Now

By Dr. Fiaz Maqbool Fazili

The reported rape and murder of a young girl in Budgam has shaken Kashmir to its moral core. A child carrying the Holy Quran, walking towards her Darasgah to learn and memorise the words of God, became the victim of an act so brutal that it has left an entire society grieving, angry, and searching for answers. This was not merely the killing of a child; it was the violation of innocence, trust, and humanity itself.

Since that tragic day, one question has continued to haunt many of us: where did we fail this child?

Did society fail her? Did her neighbourhood fail her? Did our collective conscience fail her? Or did we all fail through silence, indifference, selective outrage, and a growing reluctance to confront social evils openly and honestly?

The truth is uncomfortable. For evil to flourish, ordinary people do not need to become evil themselves; they only need to remain silent. That silence has become one of the most dangerous features of our time. We express grief, share emotional messages, hold candlelight marches, engage in heated discussions, and then gradually return to normal life. The outrage fades, attention shifts, and another tragedy waits around the corner.

Predators understand this cycle. They watch society’s memory shorten. They see how public anger dissolves with time. They learn that temporary outrage rarely translates into lasting reform.

This tragedy demands far more than condemnation. It requires introspection. Such crimes do not emerge in isolation. They are symptoms of deeper social problems that have been allowed to grow unchecked. Substance abuse, exposure to violent content, weakening family supervision, digital toxicity, declining moral education, emotional detachment, unemployment, and the erosion of spiritual and ethical values have together created conditions that make society more vulnerable to such horrors.

Many of these warning signs were visible long before this tragedy. Yet they were often dismissed as someone else’s problem.

To be fair, responsibility cannot rest solely upon the administration or law-enforcement agencies. The swift investigation conducted by the police deserves recognition, just as public condemnation by political leaders, religious scholars, and citizens deserves acknowledgment. Society is often quick to criticise institutions when they fail, but far slower to appreciate them when they act with professionalism and commitment.

Yet the role of the law begins after a crime has occurred. The responsibility of society is to prevent the conditions in which such crimes become possible.

Parents across Kashmir are now asking difficult questions. Can children travel safely on their own? Can families trust every person entrusted with their children’s care? Are adequate safeguards in place? How many dangers remain hidden behind ordinary appearances? If a child carrying the Quran to her Darasgah is not safe, then every family has reason to be concerned.

Kashmir once prided itself on strong neighbourhood bonds and community vigilance. A neighbour’s child was considered everyone’s responsibility. Elders intervened when necessary, suspicious behaviour did not go unnoticed, and social accountability acted as a protective shield. Today, increasing isolation and indifference have weakened that protective fabric.

We have gradually become spectators rather than stakeholders.

The disturbing reality is that silence itself can become a form of complicity. Every time society normalises vulgarity, ignores addiction, overlooks abuse, or avoids speaking against wrongdoing, it creates space for greater evils to flourish. Moral indifference becomes oxygen for those who prey on the vulnerable.

At the same time, while many have demanded the harshest punishment for those responsible, it is important to recognise that punishment alone cannot eliminate such crimes. The law must take its course through due process, fair investigation, and judicial scrutiny. India reserves capital punishment for the rarest of rare cases, and courts alone must determine appropriate punishment based on evidence and constitutional safeguards.

However, the certainty of justice is often a stronger deterrent than the severity of punishment. Strong investigations, reliable forensic systems, witness protection, digital evidence management, fast-track courts, and efficient prosecution are essential if society wishes to ensure that predators do not escape accountability through procedural weaknesses.

But even the strongest institutions cannot repair moral decline on their own.

The larger battle is social. Why do so many people hesitate to publicly condemn evil? Why are some more comfortable discussing politics than confronting moral decay? Why has selective activism replaced moral clarity? Why do we sometimes fear social reactions more than we fear our obligations before God and society?

A society that becomes insensitive to the suffering of its daughters begins losing a part of its soul.

From earlier tragedies that shook public conscience to the latest horror in Budgam, Kashmir has repeatedly witnessed incidents that should have permanently awakened society. Yet after every tragedy, public attention fades, headlines disappear, and life resumes until another innocent child becomes the centre of another cycle of grief.

No article, speech, or expression of sorrow can bring back the child whose life was cut short. But her death can still serve a purpose if it forces society to confront uncomfortable truths and initiate lasting change.

Families must become more vigilant. Communities must rebuild social accountability. Schools and religious institutions must place greater emphasis on character formation alongside education. Civil society must remain consistently engaged in addressing social problems instead of becoming active only during moments of public attention. Parents, educators, mosque committees, mohalla elders, and community leaders must work together to restore the culture of vigilance and responsibility that once protected the vulnerable.

Most importantly, every individual must ask difficult questions. Did I speak against wrongdoing when I witnessed it? Did I ignore signs of social decay? Did I remain silent because others remained silent? Have I contributed in any way to making society safer for children?

This tragedy is not merely a criminal incident. It is a mirror held before society. It reflects declining sensitivity, weakening moral courage, and the dangerous normalisation of silence.

Kashmir stands at a crossroads. Its daughters can either remain temporary headlines and forgotten statistics, or their suffering can become the catalyst for a genuine moral awakening.

We owe these children more than tears, hashtags, and fleeting outrage. We owe them vigilance, accountability, courage, reform, and sustained commitment. We owe them a society that protects its most vulnerable members.

A society is not judged by its slogans or speeches. It is judged by how it protects its daughters, its children, and those who cannot protect themselves.

If a little girl carrying the Holy Quran to her Darasgah is unsafe among us, then the time for introspection is now.

Before another innocent flower is crushed. Before outrage fades once again. Before another tragedy becomes another forgotten headline.

The author is a columnist who writes on ethical values, healthcare, social reforms, civic responsibility, and community welfare.

RELATED ARTICLESMORE FROM AUTHOR

166 COMMENTS

LEAVE A REPLY

Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here