This is all I can offer to the little eight-year-old. A bunch of letters strung together.

Dear Asifa,

I know this letter may never reach you. Or maybe, by some miracle one of the many Gods up there may read it to you. You probably dreamt of making it big in life. Of doing something so phenomenal that everyone knows your name. Ironically, now everyone does. We know your name. But I’m not sure if those monsters did. Did they see you as a little girl with a life, dreams, family, and future ahead of her? Were they that ruthless that it didn’t even cross their minds? But then again, any human who can look at an eight-year-old girl and think of sex is a monster, a predator.

I’m not sure what I should apologize to you for? For being part of a time when monsters raid our children of their innocence, or for being part of a community, the people of which now side with your predators or for just being a helpless lady who can just give you words long after you’re gone. But, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you’ll never reach your dreams. I’m sorry that you’ll never experience your first love. I’m sorry that you won’t be able to see the world. I’m sorry that you lost everything because a bunch of grown men, sorry beasts, couldn’t control their foul, vile and perverted instincts. They deserve to rot in hell, to be tortured to death. They deserve so much worse but considering this is a letter to an eight-year-old girl, I’m going to stop.

But you know who deserves worse?

People who are supporting this act of cruelty. People who are siding with them only because they worship the same Gods or were born into the same community.

Asifa, I’m sorry you were born in a time, in a world where when people listen to an eight-year-old girl being raped, ask of her religion. It’s weird how it doesn’t shake the very core of their being.

Tell Nirbhaya I said hi. I’m sure she can explain this much better than I ever can.

Helpless and furious,

Krupa.

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