“When justice sleeps, grief does not—it lingers in every household and gnaws at the soul of every community.”
The brutal rape and murder a mother, daughter, and sister from Mhaikam village, near Pimla in Peren district, is more than a personal tragedy. It is a wound carved into the conscience of our society, exposing the cracks in a system that promises protection but too often delivers silence. Months have passed, yet her killers remain unpunished. What message does this send? That the lives of women—especially those from tribal and marginalized communities—can be extinguished with impunity?
This is not merely the grief of one family, nor the outrage of the Zeliangrong people alone. It is a national question: how long can justice be delayed before it becomes denial itself?
The toll of justice delayed
She was not just a name in a police report. She was the quiet strength of her family—the mother whose love shaped her children, the sister whose laughter stitched bonds of kinship, the daughter whose presence gave joy to her elders. Her violent death has left children orphaned in spirit, families drowning in grief, and a community fearful of shadows that grow longer each day.
For her family, time no longer heals—it torments. Each festival is an echo of absence, each birthday a cruel reminder of a chair left empty. For her community, silence breeds despair: the solidarity of protests weakens as official inaction deepens, leaving behind a dangerous truth—when justice fails once, it fails us all.
Every day her killers roam free is not only an insult to her memory but also a dagger to the faith we are asked to place in the rule of law.
A systemic failure
The Zeliangrong community has shown remarkable restraint, trusting the system to deliver justice. We placed faith in constitutional values, expecting swift accountability. Instead, we received delays, excuses, and bureaucratic apathy. This is not mere incompetence; it is systemic moral bankruptcy.
The state’s indifference not only betrays one family but corrodes the very foundation of public trust. If institutions falter in their duty to protect the vulnerable, what stops the spiral of fear and impunity from consuming others tomorrow?
Justice is not a discretionary favor—it is a fundamental right. To delay it is to deny it, to mock the pain of families, and to embolden perpetrators.
A call to conscience
This tragedy must awaken more than grief—it must ignite action. To every parent: imagine your daughter torn from you in such violence. To every brother: imagine your sister silenced forever. To every citizen: imagine this fate striking your family, while the state looks away.
We cannot afford complacency. The cry for justice is not vengeance—it is a demand for accountability, deterrence, and the restoration of dignity to the dead and the living alike. The punishment for the killers must be swift and exemplary. Only then can her soul rest, and only then can her community’s faith in justice be restored.
But accountability must not stop with the perpetrators alone. Officials who failed in their duties—by negligence or inertia—must answer, too. For justice is not only about punishing crime; it is about upholding a system that refuses to let crime go unanswered.
Beyond one case: A national struggle
The victim’s story is not an isolated tragedy. Across India, from Delhi to Nagaland, women’s lives are imperiled by violence, while their families are made to wait endlessly for justice. This is a national failure that demands urgent reform:
Speedy trials for crimes against women
Stronger institutional accountability
Greater protection for indigenous and marginalized communities
Her death must not fade into another statistic. It must be remembered as a turning point, a collective awakening against the culture of delay and indifference.
Conclusion: Justice cannot wait
The cry of her soul is not only her family’s burden—it is a call to every citizen, every leader, every institution. Will we let her become just another forgotten victim, or will we ensure her sacrifice sparks change?
Justice delayed is not just justice denied—it is cruelty prolonged and dignity murdered. For the victim, for her children, for every woman still vulnerable in the shadows, the time for justice is now.
Japhet N. Zeliang
Tuesday, August 26, 2025