Dear Brother PM, Respect Cannot Be Forced

 Dear Brother PM,

For the last few days, one thing has been bothering me.

Why did these young girls come forward and apologise?

Why did some of their mothers also come forward to apologise?

I understand that using abusive or insulting language against anyone is wrong. It does not matter whether the person is the Prime Minister, a Chief Minister, a police officer, a celebrity, or an ordinary citizen. We should all be responsible for the words we use.

But I am still trying to understand what changed in just a few days.

Did they suddenly sit under a Bodhi tree and attain enlightenment?

Did they suddenly realise that their words were wrong?

Or did something else happen?

Did the enormous amount of trolling and abuse they faced online make them afraid?

Did their families become worried?

Did they receive calls?

Did the possibility of legal action frighten them?

I don't know.

Maybe their apology was completely genuine.

If it was, then I sincerely hope we have the maturity to accept it and move on.

But if a young girl apologises because she is frightened of what might happen to her or her family, then we need to ask ourselves a much bigger question.

Are we creating respect?

Or are we creating fear?

Because there is a huge difference between the two.

 

Dear Brother PM,

I am not defending abusive language.

I am not saying that anyone should be allowed to insult anyone.

But I am asking something very simple.

When did criticism become so uncomfortable for those in power?

When did disagreement become something that needed to be punished?

When did a young person's foolish words become more important than the real problems that young people are facing?

We have thousands of young people who are angry.

They are worried about their future.

They are worried about jobs.

They are worried about examinations.

They are worried about paper leaks.

They are worried about education.

They are worried about their parents spending their life's savings on their future.

They are worried about whether their hard work will actually mean something.

The NEET controversy is one example.

A young person studies for years.

The family spends money they may not have.

The student sacrifices sleep, friendships, holidays, and sometimes even their mental health.

Then something goes wrong in the system.

The student is left asking one painful question.

"Was all my hard work worth it?"

That is where our attention should be.

Not just on what someone shouted.

But on why so many young people are angry in the first place.

We must separate the two.

If someone uses abusive language, deal with it according to the law.

If someone commits a crime, punish them.

But don't use one person's bad language to silence an entire generation that is asking genuine questions.

Because the truth is, young people are frustrated.

And frustration sometimes comes out in the wrong words.

That doesn't make the words right.

But perhaps it explains why they were spoken.

I also keep thinking about the mothers who came forward.

Imagine being a mother and watching your daughter suddenly become the target of thousands of people online.

Imagine seeing your child being abused and trolled.

Imagine worrying about police complaints, court cases, and what may happen next.

Would you not be frightened?

Would you not ask your child to apologise?

Would you not say,

"Just say sorry and let this end"?

I am a father.

I know what most parents would do.

We would protect our children first.

And that is why I cannot help but wonder whether those apologies were really about regret or simply about fear.

Dear Brother PM,

I say this with respect.

Respect is earned.

It cannot be forced.

You don't need people to be afraid of you.

You need people to believe in you.

You don't need people to apologise because they fear the consequences.

You need people to respect you because they trust you.

That is far more powerful.

A leader who can listen to criticism without feeling threatened is stronger than a leader who silences every critic.

A government that can answer difficult questions is stronger than one that tries to avoid them.

And a democracy that allows its citizens to disagree is stronger than one where everyone is afraid to speak.

There are many questions being asked today.

Questions about the NEET issue.

Questions about paper leaks.

Questions about political funding.

Questions about E20.

Questions about government schemes.

Questions about corruption.

Questions about many things.

Let people ask.

If the question is wrong, answer it.

If the allegation is false, prove it wrong.

If someone has committed a crime, let the law take its course.

But don't make the question itself a crime.

Because questions are not the enemy of democracy.

Sometimes questions are the reason democracy survives.

And I also want to say something very clearly.

We cannot justify one wrong by pointing to another.

Someone may have committed a crime yesterday.

That does not justify someone else committing a crime today.

Four people being killed in the past cannot justify one person being killed now.

One injustice cannot become the excuse for another injustice.

If we start thinking that way, we will never escape the cycle.

Every wrong will find another wrong to defend it.

Every violence will find another violence to justify it.

And every injustice will have an excuse.

That is not justice.

That is simply a never-ending competition of wrongs.

Dear Brother PM,

I am not asking you to tolerate abuse.

I am asking you to tolerate disagreement.

I am not asking you to ignore crime.

I am asking you to distinguish between crime and criticism.

I am not asking you to protect people who break the law.

I am asking you to ensure that the law is never used to frighten people into silence.

Because when a young girl has to apologise, I want to believe she is apologising because she understands that she was wrong.

I don't want to believe she is apologising because she is scared.

There is something deeply uncomfortable about a democracy where people choose their words not because they want to be respectful, but because they are afraid of what might happen if they are not.

That is not the India I want for my children.

I want my children to respect the Prime Minister.

But I also want them to know that they can question the Prime Minister.

I want them to respect the police.

But I also want them to know that they can question the police.

I want them to respect the law.

But I also want them to know that the law exists to protect them, not to frighten them.

Because ultimately, the strength of a country is not measured by how many people are afraid to speak.

It is measured by how safely people can speak.

Dear Brother PM,

You have the power to make people afraid.

But I believe you also have the power to make people believe.

And belief is far more powerful.

Fear can make a person apologise.

But only respect can make a person genuinely listen.

Respect can never be forced.

It has to be earned.

And perhaps that is the greatest strength a leader can have.

Not a country where nobody dares to speak against him.

But a country where people feel safe enough to disagree with him.

That, to me, is democracy.