Each time a woman is brutalised, those in power rush to manage outrage, not justice. The pattern is painfully familiar—denial, deflection, and, worst of all, blame. Last week, when a young medical student from Odisha studying in Durgapur was allegedly gang-raped, West Bengal Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee’s first instinct was not compassion, but suspicion. “What was she doing outside after midnight?” she asked. The assault reportedly happened between 8 and 9 pm—words that make her question crueller still. Her party accused the BJP of politicising the crime, but Banerjee herself reached for whataboutery: “In Odisha, girls were raped on beaches. What action has been taken?” The remark was not meant to defend the victim, only to deflect her own failure.
Just a year ago, the rape and murder of another medical student at R G Kar Medical College and Hospital had brought protesters out on Kolkata’s streets. Then too, Banerjee responded with denial and blameshifting. A year later, nothing has changed—not the outrage, not the indifference. Yes, the police have moved faster this time—arrests made, custody secured, and forensic tests widened. But speed means little when empathy is absent. The wound does not close when leaders reopen it with suspicion.
West Bengal was once a beacon of learning, reform, and modernity. It still draws students from across India—young men and women chasing dreams their families can barely afford. What do they hear now from its chief minister? A warning not to step out at night. As if freedom itself were a risk. Women do not need curfews. They need safety. They need leaders who stand with them—not above them, not against them. As chief minister for 14 years, Mamata Banerjee has the authority to protect, to heal, and to lead by example. What she owes the young woman in Durgapur—and every woman who walks afraid—is not excuses or comparisons, but courage. The last thing any survivor deserves is blame.
