The crowded streets of Kolkata, a city once renowned for its intellectual passion and cultural heritage, are now overshadowed by an eerie paradox. Underneath the facade of “The City of Joy,” a sinister current of fear and vulnerability runs deep, especially for women. The recent atrocities, like the Law College case and the RG Kar case, have torn apart the city’s supposedly progressive veneer to reveal a truth wherein women’s safety is not only an issue but an ever-present threat. This essay touches upon the disturbing reality of women's safety in Kolkata, questioning whether the law is effective, how brief public outrage is, and the social complacency with which such atrocities continue to occur. It’s a harsh commentary on a city that, rich in history as it is, continues to re-enact its worst chapters, and hence many are convinced that here, “Kanoon Andha Hota Hai.”.
A City of Glorious Contradictions: Culture, Devotion, and Betrayal
The identity of Kolkata is a dense weave with rich threads of high culture, political radicalism, and profound spiritual devotion. It is the city of leading lights such as Rabindranath Tagore, whose poetry and prose spoke with eloquence to the soul of Bengal, and Satyajit Ray, whose moving films captured the human condition with unmatched elegance. It is also a city of unflinching political determination, where national heroes such as Subhas Chandra Bose resided, whose rebel patriotism still echoes within its streets. Such an intellectual and political legacy has long colored Kolkata as a city of conscience, where culture and activism went hand in hand with an approach to the world that was progressive.
But this vision of a liberated city is brutally at odds with a darker truth. Kolkata is also the religious heartland of Bengal, a place where divine femininity is adored with a fervour almost second to none. Elaborate Durga Puja pandals turn the city into a spectacular display of worship, commemorating goddess Durga and her triumph over evil. There are a few Shaktipeeths in the city, places of great sanctity where the goddess Shakti is worshipped. The roads that reverberate with prayers to Kali Mata, the powerful goddess of power and destruction, are the same roads where real women are brutalised and humiliated. This deep and anguished hypocrisy—the reverence for the goddess in one breath, and the offhand disregard for the well-being of mortal women in the next—is a violation of the city’s spiritual and cultural roots. The irony is not merely ironic; it is a screaming indictment of a culture that has compartmentalised its reverence, exalting divine women and not doing the same for those who move among them. The mere celebration of Durga’s power is a bitter reminder of the susceptibility of women who are a part of this cultural and spiritual universe.
The Echo of Atrocity: A Public Indictment
The RG Kar case, a savage beating of a young medical student, and the Law College case, another terrible tale of sexual assault, are not isolated instances. They are symptoms of an inherent societal disease. The resulting public outcry to these cases was, of course, enormous. Demonstrations were held, slogans were shouted, and vows of justice were uttered. But, as with so many previous cases, the initial outrage is already starting to fade. The media attention has moved on, the hashtags have lost their force, and the public’s collective memory, unfortunately, now appears to be shortening. This revolving cycle of outrage and amnesia is a game we play with our collective conscience that endangers our very selves. We briefly stand up for justice, only to step back into the shells of our complacency and wait for the next tragedy to awaken our latent passion. “We have to create a society that ought not to replicate its atrocious or abhorrent past” is more than a catchphrase; it is an appeal for a radical transformation of our social fabric.
The first shock and then the subsequent protests are a strong demonstration of the anger of people, but they tend to lack the steady thrust required to usher in systemic change. Social media, though an effective vehicle for initial mobilisation, is also responsible for this momentary outrage. A hashtag is a performative act of solidarity that soon makes way for the next trending phenomenon. This “protest fatigue” is a sad indicator of a society drowning in a sea of information and a justice system that crawls glacially. The families of these victims and the victims themselves are then left to battle for a long, isolated time, their initial publicly expressed sympathy decreasing day by day. The act of putting together a rally, while important, can itself feel like rolling a boulder up a hill, watching it roll right back down only once the cameras from the media stop pointing. “Kanoon Andha Hota Hai”: The Blindfolded Justice
The words “Kanoon Andha Hota Hai,” commonly interpreted metaphorically, assume a chillingly literal form in the backdrop of such cases. The apparently sluggish speed of justice, loopholes manipulated by the accused, and the tremendous burden put on the victims and their families have created a sense of disillusionment which can be felt everywhere. The legal framework, intended to be an abode of justice, too frequently seems to be a complex maze that a woman has to find her way out of at her own risk. This phenomenal failure of the law to provide immediate and unambiguous justice not only re-victimises the victims but also encourages the perpetrators, who feel that they can do as they please. The RG Kar case, in fact, serves as a reminder of such judicial callousness, where the long-drawn-out legal struggles and the perceived absence of accountability have given rise to doubts regarding the basis of our justice system itself.
Blindness of the law is not a basic trait but a result of weaknesses in its system. The investigating process is usually full of delays and prejudices. Police officers, who are at times not trained to handle gender-based violence, might dismiss or downplay an initial complaint made by a victim. Gathering forensic evidence is usually botched, leaving loopholes for defence attorneys to make the most of. Additionally, the judicial process itself poses one significant bottleneck. Too many pending cases, insufficiency of specially designated courts, and a culture of haphazard adjournments result in trials lasting for years. This long-drawn-out legal struggle is a psychological torture for the victim, who repeatedly has to relive her trauma in the courtroom. The accused, meanwhile, gets bail and intimidates witnesses or lives on, feeling no sense of impunity. This “blindness” is a decision—a decision of a system to choose bureaucracy over speedy justice, of a society to turn a deaf ear to the misery of its victims, and of a culture to permit patriarchal thinking to infuse its pillars of law and order.
The Societal Rot: A Deeper Diagnosis
The question of safety for women in Kolkata is not merely a legal concern; it is social. The patriarchal mindset that normalises objectification and blames the victim, the deep-seated gender inequality, and the bystander apathy that prevents people from intervening are all contributing factors. The problem is not just a few “bad apples” but a rotten orchard. We, as a society, need to confront these uncomfortable truths. We need to move beyond mere outrage and into the realm of sustained action. This involves teaching our kids respect and consent, building women-friendly spaces, and calling out the misogynist lies that fill our society. We must be the change we seek, not for a few days following a tragedy but for every day.
This illness of society comes in various ways. It is in the media where the woman is objectified or her roles are relegated to stereotypical representations. It is in everyday chat, where this casual misogyny goes unprotested. It is in our schools and colleges, where gender sensitisation is sometimes added on as an afterthought, rather than a fundamental part of the curriculum. The “rotten orchard” is a good metaphor for this endemic issue. It implies that eliminating a few nasty components is not sufficient. The soil itself—the social and cultural norms—is poisonous. To really solve the problem, we need to alter the soil. We need to eliminate the framework promoting gender discrimination, beginning at home and spreading to our workplaces, our schools, and our public places. Bystander apathy is one of the most devious among these social evils. When someone sees a crime or harassment being committed and does nothing, they are a silent accomplice, and they send the signal that such actions are permissible. We must foster an environment where all feel a sense of personal responsibility to act and defend others, instead of keeping quiet.
A Blueprint for Lasting Change
It will take a consistent, multifaceted effort beyond the passing outrage of public protest to reach a society in which women are actually safe. We require a map for enduring change that solves the systemic, legal, and cultural causes of the problem.
Firstly, reform in the law is the key. This means the setting up of the fast-track courts specifically to deal with gender violence cases, so that justice is also delivered strictly within a time-bound schedule. The police have to be given intensive, mandatory training in gender sensitivity and the right techniques of investigation to ensure dignity for the victim and proper handling of evidence. Public prosecutors must be enabled with improved facilities and support to prepare strong cases.
Secondly, there is a need for an education revolution. Respect, consent, and equality values have to be inculcated in the school curriculum from childhood. This is not something that should be done in one seminar or workshop, but on an ongoing basis of moulding a new generation’s psyche. This also has to be provided for adults in the form of public awareness campaigns and community-based interventions challenging patriarchal norms.
Last but not least, community building and personal responsibility are the foundation upon which this transformation takes place. Community safety measures and neighbourhood watch groups can lead to greater safety in public spaces. We have to actively build a culture where bystanders feel empowered to intervene and report, ending the culture of silence. Each one of us, particularly men, has to take the personal responsibility of confronting misogynistic conduct in our own groups and defending the rights and safety of women.
The RG Kar and Law College cases are not a couple of isolated events; they are a chilling indictment of a city and a society that has failed its women. The transience of our outraged response, the seeming blindness of our justice system, and the ingrained societal apathy have produced an environment that is quite unsafe for women to live in. The words “Kanoon Andha Hota Hai” are no longer a sarcastic remark; they are a bitter truth for many. We have to shatter this cycle of violence and idleness. We must ensure that we develop a society where women do not fear walking alone, justice is not a far-fetched dream but a reality, and the ghastly history of the past is not revisited. The City of Joy can only be called so when its women are actually safe, and for that to come true, we first need to open our eyes and not continue being blind to the injustice that prevails.