The Numbness of Unending Horror: Confronting a Society Desensitized by Violence Against Women

Why? What kind of life are we living? Women are being brutally raped, and the layers of this tragedy are sickening. Some blame our lifestyle, some point fingers at the length of our dresses, and some say we should just stay at home. But aren't we human beings, deserving of freedom like everyone else? Every human being has the right to live their life according to their own pursuits. But are we, as women, truly free? No, we are not. We are shackled by countless chains, chains that society has bound us with, chains that hold us back from living the life we deserve.

The recent brutal rape and murder of a doctor in Kolkata shook me to my core. The thought of what she endured, the unimaginable pain, makes my soul shiver. The details are so horrific that it’s hard to believe such cruelty exists in this world. She was at her workplace, a place where she was supposed to be safe, a place where she was working tirelessly to help others. But even there, she wasn't safe. Are we not even allowed to work anymore? Is this what it has come to, that women are brutally raped and murdered, and there is no safe place left for us?

The facts are heart-wrenching. This was a young woman who had worked so hard to reach where she was. She completed her schooling, cleared the NEET UG exam, finished her 5.5 years of undergraduate study, and then her postgraduate studies. She was in her second year of residency, working long hours, dedicating her life to her profession. That night, she had dinner around 2 AM and then went for her rounds. Later, exhausted, she went to rest for a while in the seminar hall. It’s normal; anyone would be tired after such a long shift. But between 3 AM and 5 AM, her life was brutally taken from her.

The postmortem report reveals the horrifying truth: she was gang-raped and murdered. Her neck bone was broken, her nails were ripped out, her bones shattered. The brutality extended to her private parts, and her hip bone was dislocated at a right angle. The pain she must have endured is beyond comprehension. Her head was smashed against the wall repeatedly, her body violated over and over again. This wasn’t the act of one person; it was a gang rape, and the evidence of multiple ejaculations confirms that it wasn’t just one man who committed this heinous crime. The worst part? This happened inside a hospital, a place where she should have been safe, surrounded by colleagues.

But what did this young woman receive in return for her dedication and hard work? Justice? No. The police told her parents it was a suicide. Suicide? How could anyone call this a suicide when her body was shattered, her soul brutalized? The parents, who had just spoken to her hours before, were made to wait for three agonizing hours before they could see their daughter’s body. And during that time, the hospital began “renovations,” breaking down the room where she was raped, erasing evidence. The system failed her at every turn.

And now, days later, they’ve arrested a man based on the flimsy evidence of a Bluetooth wire. A man earning barely 12,000 rupees a month is suddenly the lone scapegoat for this horrific crime? What about the others involved? What about the fact that this was a gang rape, a crime that couldn’t possibly have been committed by one person in such a short time? But no, the system is trying to close the case, to sweep it under the rug.

And what about us? The women who hear this story and feel the terror deep in our bones? We are supposed to be safe at work, but even there, we are not. Every woman who reads about this case will feel the same fear, the same numbness. We are not safe. Not in the streets, not in our homes, not even in our workplaces.

The sick mentality of blaming the victim, questioning her choices, her clothing, her lifestyle – it disgusts me. No woman asks to be raped. No woman invites this violence upon herself. We are human beings, yet we are treated like objects, like prey.

I went to the gym today, but I couldn’t stay. I felt unsafe, insecure, terrified of every man around me. I left after just a few minutes. This is what it’s come to – the constant fear, the constant need to look over our shoulders, to question the intentions of every man around us. We live in fear, constantly on edge, because we know that tomorrow, it could be any of us.

And it’s not just in one place. I spent a month in a state capital recently, and the difference between day and night was stark. During the day, people treated me well, but as soon as the sun set, everything changed. Men would stare, ogle, and some even tried to molest a woman who was simply walking down the street, wearing a traditional kurta-pajama. The sick mentality that blames the victim for what she’s wearing needs to be called out. It’s not the clothes; it’s the men who are at fault.

Why aren’t women safe? Why are we subject to this violence? Every time a woman is raped, whether at her workplace or elsewhere, we are told to change our behavior, to stay home, to cover up. But the problem isn’t us. The problem is the men who see us as objects, the system that fails us, the society that blames us.

Being a woman shouldn’t be a crime. But it feels like it is. The agony of parents sending their daughters out into the world, hoping they’ll be safe, only to have them brutally taken away – it’s unimaginable. And yet, it keeps happening. Over and over again.

How does a father feel when he hears about such horrific crimes? How does he sleep at night, knowing that his daughter will go out tomorrow, into a world that is so cruel, so indifferent to her safety? The fear that grips a father’s heart is indescribable. He sees the news, reads the headlines, and his mind races with anxiety. He prays for her safety, but deep down, he knows he can’t protect her from everything. The world is too big, too dangerous. Every time she steps out of the house, he feels a knot tighten in his chest, a silent dread that he can’t shake off. He knows that no matter how much he tries to shield her, there are monsters out there who see her not as a person but as an object to be used and discarded.

A mother, too, lives in constant fear. She watches her daughter leave for work, for college, for anything, and she fights the urge to hold her back, to keep her safe at home. But what kind of life is that? She knows her daughter has dreams, aspirations, a life to live. But the fear is always there, lurking in the background, haunting her every moment. When the phone rings late at night, her heart skips a beat. When her daughter is late coming home, a thousand terrible scenarios play out in her mind. She prays, she hopes, but the fear never leaves.

And what about the daughter? The woman who goes out into the world every day, knowing full well the dangers that await her? She puts on a brave face, but inside, she is terrified. She knows the stories, she has heard the warnings, and she carries that fear with her everywhere she goes. She is cautious, she is vigilant, but she knows that it might not be enough. All it takes is one moment, one wrong turn, one encounter with a predator, and her life could be changed forever. She lives with that fear every single day.

The society we live in is pathetic. It tells us to be strong, to be independent, but then it does everything in its power to break us down. It tells us to fight for our rights, but then it denies us justice. It preaches equality, but in practice, it is steeped in misogyny, in a deep-seated hatred for women. It is a society that is quick to judge, quick to blame, but slow to change, slow to act.

We are told to speak up, to report crimes, but what happens when we do? We are met with skepticism, with disbelief. We are asked what we were wearing, why we were out late, why we didn’t do more to protect ourselves. The burden is always on us to prove that we didn’t deserve what happened to us. And even when we do, even when the evidence is clear, justice is elusive. The system is designed to protect the powerful, the perpetrators, not the victims.

And so we live in fear. We live in a constant state of anxiety, knowing that at any moment, we could become the next victim, the next headline. We are numb, we are exhausted, we are broken. How much more can we take? How many more women have to suffer, have to die, before something changes? How many more families have to live with the fear, the grief, the loss?

These stories fill the news – a six-year-old girl raped and left to die, her tiny body barely clinging to life. An 80-year-old grandmother raped and murdered in her own home, a place she believed to be her sanctuary. The horror of these acts is unimaginable, yet they are all too real. They serve as grim reminders that no one is safe, no matter their age, no matter where they are. The cruelty of these crimes knows no bounds, and the perpetrators walk among us, often without consequence, emboldened by a system that fails to hold them accountable.

The fear that grips women and their families is suffocating. Every day, we hear about another woman, another girl, who has been assaulted, violated, or worse. The fear isn’t just in the headlines; it’s in our homes, our workplaces, our schools. It’s in the minds of every woman who steps out the door, wondering if today will be the day she becomes another statistic.

When a young girl goes to school, her parents are plagued by worry. Will she make it home safely? Will she be able to fend off the leering eyes, the groping hands? They fear the possibility of her being followed, abducted, or worse. They teach her to be cautious, to avoid certain places, to dress conservatively, as if any of that would make a difference. But deep down, they know that the real problem lies not with their daughter, but with a society that has allowed this violence to fester unchecked.

For a woman who dares to venture out for work, the anxiety is just as real. She may have the qualifications, the skills, the drive, but all of that is overshadowed by the constant threat of harassment, of assault. She knows that no matter how hard she works, no matter how much she achieves, she will always be seen as a target. The fear of being attacked, of being blamed for her own suffering, is a weight she carries every day. She is forced to navigate a world that sees her as less than human, as a body to be used and discarded.

The reality is that there is no place where a woman can feel truly safe. Not on the streets, not in public transport, not in her own home. The places that should be her sanctuary have become battlegrounds, where she must constantly fight for her right to exist without fear. The harsh reality is that the victim is always judged, always scrutinized, always blamed. She is asked why she was out late, what she was wearing, why she didn’t fight back harder. Her trauma is dismissed, her pain minimized, her dignity stripped away by those who are supposed to protect her.

Society has become a terrifying place for women. It is a place where little girls are not safe, where elderly women are not safe, where no woman is safe. The horror stories that fill our newsfeeds are not isolated incidents; they are a reflection of a deep-rooted problem that permeates every corner of our society. It is a problem that is ignored, downplayed, and often excused by those in power.

How did we get here? How did we become a society where a woman’s worth is measured by her ability to avoid being raped, where her every move is scrutinized, where her suffering is dismissed as just another unfortunate event? We live in a world where the rapists are given more consideration than the victims, where justice is a distant dream, and where the fear of becoming the next victim is a constant companion.

The pain of living in such a society is unbearable. It is a pain that numbs the heart, that drains the soul, that leaves us questioning whether there is any hope left. How many more women must be sacrificed before we wake up to the reality of our world? How many more daughters, sisters, mothers, and grandmothers must be brutalized before we realize that the problem is not with them, but with us?

The truth is harsh and undeniable: no place is safe for women anymore. We have created a world where violence against women is not just tolerated, but normalized. Where the fear of rape is a part of every woman’s daily life. Where the question is not if it will happen, but when.

It is a world that has become so dangerous, so toxic, that even the simplest of tasks – walking to the store, going to work, attending school – are fraught with risk. And when the worst does happen, the victim is left to pick up the pieces of her shattered life, while her attackers walk free, unpunished, unrepentant.

The reality is that society has failed women. It has failed to protect them, to value them, to see them as equal human beings deserving of safety and respect. Instead, it has created a culture of fear, where women are constantly looking over their shoulders, constantly questioning their own worth, constantly afraid to live their lives.

The pain of this reality is deep, it is overwhelming, and it is inescapable. It is a pain that every woman knows, that every family feels, that every community should be ashamed of. It is a pain that should drive us to action, to demand change, to create a world where no woman has to live in fear, where no woman is judged for the violence inflicted upon her, where no woman is seen as less than human.

But until that change comes, we are left with the bitter truth that we are not safe, that no place is safe, that our society has become a living nightmare for women. And the only thing we can do is continue to fight, to speak out, to refuse to be silenced by the fear and the pain that has been forced upon us. Because if we don’t, then nothing will ever change, and the cycle of violence will continue, leaving more women broken, more families devastated, and more lives destroyed.

The numbness that comes from living in such a world is not just a response to the pain; it is a defense mechanism, a way to survive in a world that has become too cruel, too harsh, too unforgiving. But we cannot allow that numbness to turn into complacency, to acceptance. We must fight against it, we must resist it, we must continue to demand a better world – not just for ourselves, but for every woman, every girl, every person who deserves to live without fear.

And until that day comes, we must hold onto each other, support each other, and never forget that we are not alone in this fight. Because the pain may be overwhelming, but together, we have the strength to endure it, to push through it, and to create the change that we so desperately need.

I don’t know what the answer is. I don’t know how to make the world safer for women. But I do know that we can’t keep living like this. We can’t keep accepting this as the norm. We have to demand better, we have to fight for justice, for change. Because if we don’t, if we continue to live in fear, then the monsters win. And we can’t let that happen.