Shards of Light

Celebrating 75 years of India’s Independence on 15 August seemed to be a mockery for me. I wrote a harsh piece stating that there is no freedom for the women of this country. Every day, we hear fresh stories of horrific rapes. And every day, most women and girls struggle to survive – even their homes are not safe. It’s hardly a new prenomen. But with the rape of a young woman doctor in the hospital where she was working, it seemed like we have reached the nadir as far as women’s safety and well-being is concerned. Darkness surrounds us. Fear overwhelms us.

How does one respond to this? Thinking about these horrors and reading the vitriol spewed by Indian men in response to women’s pleas and stories on social media is absolutely devastating. You might say, it’s best to be off social media, but I don’t think that’s the answer. We have to face the reality and make changes.

Yesterday, I wrote on Substack about the power of showing up. Today, I realise we cannot and must not allow the darkness to overwhelm us. We have to look for the shards of light, holding on and yet sharing it too.

As a writer, I have to use my words. I must use them effectively, strongly and passionately. While I talk about my journey a lot here, I must write much more about the issues that plague our world and the positive ways we can respond to it. I want to share more stories of everyday people who bring light in small, yet significant ways to the world. I’m committing myself to this today.

Shards Of Light

In the midst of darkness, a silence so thick,
shadows stretch long, consuming all in their path.
Violence whispers its name,
tearing through the quiet like a blade.
Rapes, murders, the echoes of war
linger in the corners, heavy and cold.

Yet, amid this night, I see shards of light,
tiny fragments piercing through,
like stars against a moonless sky.
A hand reaching out to lift another,
a voice speaking softly in the storm,
the quiet, steady courage of kindness.

Going the extra mile, unnoticed, unseen,
in a world that rushes past.
A protestor’s shout, a banner raised high,
a stand taken for those who cannot stand,
for justice that feels too far away,
yet is sought with every breath.

People gathering, hands clasped in solidarity,
against the weight of darkness,
against the suffocating silence.
They rise, they speak, they love,
each act a beacon,
each word a flame.

For in every shadow, a glimmer remains,
in every wound, the potential to heal.
These moments of light, small as they seem,
are the seeds that crack open the night,
the silent defiance against despair,
the promise that even here, hope grows.

In the depths of the darkest hours,
when all feels lost,
I see these shards of light,
fragile and fierce,
and know that they are enough,
that they will lead us through,
to whatever comes next,
to whatever waits beyond.

Today I’m holding on to the light I see within me and in the world. I’d love to hear what your views on meaningful ways to respond to the darkness.

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