There comes a point in public life where silence stops being strategic and starts becoming shameful. Prime Minister Narendra Modi has reached that point. Allegations and proven cases of sexual violence, molestation, intimidation of victims, and political shielding of the accused—emanating disturbingly from BJP-ruled states—can no longer be brushed aside as isolated incidents or opposition propaganda. They demand immediate, visible, and uncompromising action from the very top. No one claims crime wears a party colour. But when those accused of the most heinous crimes are politically powerful, and when state machinery and investigative agencies appear slow, soft, or strangely ineffective, accountability cannot be outsourced to courts alone. Political leadership must accept responsibility. And that responsibility squarely rests with the Prime Minister. The case of former BJP MLA Kuldeep Singh Sengar should have been a turning point. Instead, it has become a symbol of institutional collapse. This was not merely a rape case. It was a chilling saga of abuse of power—rape of a minor, the murder of her father inside a police station, the suspicious deaths of witnesses, including a young lawyer fighting the victim’s case, and finally, the shocking grant of bail to a convicted criminal by the Delhi High Court. The question that still haunts the nation is simple: how did such a man manage to manoeuvre through the system with such ease? The CBI, which functions under the Modi government, failed to prevent bail for a man who represents everything a civilised society must reject. Whether this failure stemmed from incompetence, institutional timidity, or even some technicality hardly matters. The damage is the same. As if that were not enough, Madhya Pradesh has now thrown up another ugly reminder. A BJP leader allegedly threatening a rape survivor with further sexual violence is not just criminal intimidation; it is the use of political power as a weapon of terror. When victims are threatened into silence, the rule of law collapses long before a judge hears the case. The message being sent to women is deeply disturbing: that courage invites punishment, that power protects predators, and that justice is negotiable if the accused is politically connected.
Those who argue that these are aberrations should revisit recent history. From Kathua, where BJP leaders rallied in support of accused rapists, to Hathras, where a Dalit woman’s brutal rape and murder was followed by questionable state conduct; from shelter home horrors to politically shielded offenders across states—the pattern is unmistakable. Different regions, different contexts, but the same reluctance to act decisively when power is involved. This is what makes the contradiction unbearable. Prime Minister Modi has launched numerous women-centric initiatives—Beti Bachao, Beti Padhao, Ujjwala Yojana, Nari Shakti programmes, and the Women’s Reservation Bill. On paper, the intent is progressive. On the ground, these achievements are mocked when rape accused politicians roam free, when victims are threatened, and when party discipline dissolves in the face of clout. Empowerment is not measured by slogans or schemes, but by how swiftly and mercilessly the state crushes those who violate women, irrespective of party, position, or proximity to power. The BJP has long claimed to be a “party with a difference.” If that claim is to retain even a shred of credibility, zero tolerance must go beyond press statements. Suspension is cosmetic. Expulsion after conviction is a delayed morality. Waiting for courts to act is political cowardice. Narendra Modi does not lack authority; what is missing is visible intervention. One clear directive—making it explicit that any BJP member accused of heinous crimes will face immediate internal action and zero institutional protection—would alter the ecosystem overnight. India seeks global leadership, hosts international summits, and speaks the language of civilisational values. Yet every headline about rape accused politicians getting bail, intimidating victims, or being quietly protected erodes India’s moral standing. The world does not separate governance from ethics. Modi has famously said, “Na khaunga, na khane dunga.” The nation now waits to see whether this resolve extends to moral corruption within his own ranks. Because if rapists, intimidators, and power-brokers continue to enjoy political oxygen, then no slogan, scheme, or speech can shield the government from the charge of selective conscience. This is no longer about politics. It is about values, justice, and credibility. And the time to act is not tomorrow. It is now.
