“Journalism can never be silent: That is its greatest virtue and its greatest fault. It must speak, and speak immediately, while the echoes of wonder, the claims of triumph and the signs of horror are still in the air.”
— Henry Anatole
It was a dark night when Gauri was coming back from her office, she was tired and thought of having rest. She did not know death was waiting for her. As she moved forward to unlock the door, before realizing anything she found herself lying on the ground, craving in pain…Soon the soul left the body.. seven bullets were enough to make her lifeless.
It was a regular day, she was having a cup of black tea in the morning thinking about all these years of work, her fight with Indrajit, her divorce. Suddenly the eyes reached the old family frame, reminded her of sweet childhood memories. As she was rewinding, she reached the beginning of her journalist career in Times of India. Journalism was in her blood, she could never compromise. Soon Gauri realized that she was getting late. Cursorily she took the required things, locked the door and left.
While she was traveling names like Shivani Bhatnagar, Rajesh Verma, Sandeep Kothari and other journalists came into her mind. It touched Gauri’s mind with a deep coldness that how brutally they were killed. She asked herself that if she had advocated well during the trials of “Freedom of the Press”, she asked herself if India was really safe for journalism, if she and others like her were off the hook. But however she was proud to be an activist, she was proud to bring out all the injustices and unrighteousness.
The car pulled the break, she got distracted and came back from her thoughts to this world.. she was feeling disturbed. The middle aged woman went into her cabin and started her works, for that time she was devoted to it. Just for a fraction of second, she got disturbed and asked herself was the government doing enough for the sake of the journalists. A fear went down her spine, Gauri found most of such murder cases were undisclosed. She wanted to ask how much freedom of the press, freedom of speech and freedom of expression was applicable in their world.
Gauri gave a mordacious smile. Somewhere she knew, she was the next, her instincts were strong and she knew the government may not help, may be the law is just in the book, may be freedom of expression in India is just a myth. As far knowledge was concern, she also knew India is the third most gruesome country where journalists are shot dead even from a point blank range in broad daylight and at the end of the day they are not safe. The gray-haired woman knew only those news were put forward where influential people were not the particular and if it was so, the results were the headlines next day, then took place in a corner of the newspaper and however at long last, like many other cases the file turns worthless.
Gauri Lankesh was a fearless journalist, activist and proposed many ideas which were neck breaking. Her death was a great loss to the world of journalism. Yes, our country does not speak for justice and if it does the outcomes are unbearable. People all over the country stands against such viciousness but their day to day life keeps moving forward, after all time and tide waits for none. Even the death cried on Gauri Lankesh, her audacity laughed at her and controversies were dead silent.
