Again
I was scrolling through my social media feed, and it was filled with videos and photographs of girls carrying slogans and banners, protesting and rallying through the streets of Delhi. There were students protesting in Punjab, women marching elsewhere, and videos of men and women trying to explain what was happening in the country. There were so many of them that I eventually lost track of the exact context of each one. But somewhere between one video and the next, a strange feeling began to make its home inside my mind. I did not like it. So I closed my phone. I had done the same thing about two hours earlier. But two hours ago, I had told myself that I should write something today. So here I am. Perhaps I should begin much earlier. I think I was in standard eighth or ninth when the Nirbhaya case happened. Until then, I was barely aware of what rape actually meant. I remember the details of the brutality appearing everywhere—in newspapers, on television—and my thirteen-ye...