Not many had heard of 20-year-old Delhi University student Gurmehar Kaur till last week. Some of you may have seen, shared or discussed her video on Indo-Pak peace at some point last year, when doing so did not result in an angry swarm of people descending around you, quick to raise their fists and brand you as an “anti-national”. 

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The video was an account of how the daughter of a Kargil martyr had made peace with the heart-wrenching pain of her father’s death, after hating every Pakistani in the past and even trying to stab a burqa-clad Muslim woman when she was six. Coming to this understanding was not easy, she says, but she learnt to let go of her hatred and finally saw the bigger picture. She says it dawned on her that “Pakistan didn’t kill my dad, war did.” For anyone who has lost a loved one, it’s a moving point in the video, which resonates with that single profound thought or moment that finally allows you to make sense of the world around you after your loss and helps you move forward to live your life fully again. That one sentence about war and loss probably provided a healing succour for young Gurmehar. Yet, it is that very same image of her holding a placard saying those words, that has been splashed across social media and WhatsApp groups, twisted out of context and merged alongside pictures of the likes of Dawood Ibrahim, Osama bin Laden and even Hitler, to lash out at her. Or then, a cricketer decides to make light of something that helped her come to terms with not having enough memories of her father, by comparing it to his bat, to elicit a few laughs. Applause! Retweets! Whistles! Very “facetious” indeed.

Who cares if Gurmehar was talking about the campus violence this time? Since the issue is steeped in controversial student politics, the slate which now read “I’m not afraid of ABVP” was rubbed off and the old pro-peace slate was dug out, dressed up with the choicest abuses and presented to the world as her shining certificate of “anti-nationalism” to negate any opinion she might have on the current topic. 

What followed was everything you wouldn’t wish on any young student, male or female, growing up in this country, with or without having sacrificed a family member in a bloody war. From online rape threats, Union Ministers asking who was “polluting her mind” to medal-bearing wrestlers questioning how her deceased father would rest in peace if he knew the thoughts swirling around in his daughter’s mind. Even the eminent lyricist who spoke up for her, regrettably only ended up showing his own privileged, elite side. In the media frenzy that each celebrated tweet, counter tweet and Facebook post brought on, Gurmehar finally bowed out. “This is all that my 20-year-old self could take. .. I’m withdrawing from the campaign. Congratulations everyone, I said what I had to say. This campaign was never about me but students. Please go in huge numbers for the march. I request to be left alone,” she said. 

While one can empathise with how difficult it must have been for her to deal with rape threats and the political slugfest that followed, one does wish that she had stood her ground and not retreated. Too often, women are shut down, drowned out, forced to bite back their words, or threatened with violence when they decide to speak up.

“My father took a bullet for the country, I will take a bullet for the country,” Gurmehar had said in a TV interview when the issue first exploded. So it was important to send a message that she would not be silenced even though the going was getting pretty rough.

In a world where everyone yearns to be the next viral sensation, not many know how to deal with it once you strike gold and everyone's finally listening. If Gurmehar had stuck to her guns, like a soldier that she said she would like to be, she could have leveraged the attention to drive home her point. She could have been a shining beacon of inspiration, even if she had not started out with those intentions. 

That said, there is a lot left wanting in the kind of discourse we have around us these days. It's an endless cacophony of name-calling, being branded a 'bhakt' or a 'liberal anti-national', a 'sanghi' or a 'traitor'. Where is the space for nuance? Whatever happened to encouraging students to question and debate and engage with each other? We can scarcely hear each other over the furious chaos of Twitter hashtags and slogan shouting. 

This is not to doubt Gurmehar's courage or ability who, as anyone who has suffered deep personal loss and overcome it, has already shown plenty of grit. And one cannot really begin to imagine the pressures on a 20-year-old when one becomes the topic of primetime news shows and front page headlines. But it's the price we must be willing to pay if we want to bring about any change. If you start a revolution, one should be prepared to follow it through to its conclusion, not abandon it mid way. That's the thing with movements, you have to really want it, even when the trolls come calling. Be ready for the bouquets, but also the brickbats.

To all the Gurmehars thinking twice about letting your voice be heard now, don't step back. Speak up and don't be afraid to step out. Stay put, engage with the opposition, change your stance if you realise you have to, change their minds if you manage to. But don't let anyone make you leave the stage. It's yours, it belongs to you, you're here to stay and don't make it easier for those who want to wish you away. 

In her original post on Facebook (which has since been deleted or hidden from public view on her profile), Gurmehar had said it was her way of "protesting against the tyranny of fear". Here's hoping that the young girl goes on to unshackle the fear and move past any lasting scars that this incident may have left her with.