by: Aswini Kumar Darjee
Bhubaneswar- In the land once celebrated for its cultural peace, Odisha now finds itself drowning in a storm of sorrow and shame. The suicide of a young college girl in Balasore after alleging sexual harassment by her professor has pierced the soul of the state and stirred the conscience of the nation. The Supreme Court, deeply moved by the tragedy, admitted with anguish, “We are ashamed of such incidents,” calling for immediate steps to ensure safety for girls, women, and children, especially in rural areas. But behind this heartbreak lies a far more disturbing reality—a government under fire, a political leadership visibly adrift, and a system collapsing under the weight of crimes it can no longer deny.
The BJP government in Odisha, still in the early months of its term, is already battling a wave of public fury. From the streets of Balasore to the courts of Delhi, cries for justice are rising louder than ever. The opposition, led fiercely by Congress and BJD, has found a powerful rallying point in these horrific incidents. The political euphoria that followed the Prime Minister’s grand rally at Janata Maidan on June 20 has quickly faded into a blur of protests, media glare, and moral reckoning.
And this is not an isolated heartbreak. A series of brutal crimes—gang rape at Gopalpur beach, a minor girl raped twice in a single day in Malkangiri, another minor burned alive in Balanga, and a Jajpur athlete allegedly raped by her own coaches—paint a picture of a state where women are no longer safe in their homes, their schools, or their dreams. Religious places, school campuses, stadiums, bus stands—no corner of public life has been spared. Odisha has become a landscape of fear where daily violence against women is no longer news, but an accepted horror.
The statistics are chilling. With over 14,800 reported cases of sexual violence in a year and an average of 86 women falling victim to crimes every single day, Odisha now leads the nation in sexual harassment cases. It ranks among the top states for rape-murders, acid attacks, dowry deaths, and trafficking. The NCRB numbers don’t just reflect a rise in crime—they signal a collapse of trust in institutions meant to protect.
Adding to this shame is the recent travel advisory by the United States, cautioning women against solo travel to Odisha. It was issued just weeks before the Gopalpur gangrape, a case that has brought international condemnation and exposed the state’s failure on a global platform. As the world watches, the silence from those in power is louder than the screams of the victims.
In January, the Chief Minister had admitted in the Assembly that the crime rate was climbing. That month alone saw 111 murders, over 1,500 thefts, 101 riots, and a surge in cyber and sexual crimes. Since then, the spiral has only deepened. Yet, there is no visible roadmap for reform, no real urgency in governance, no sense of responsibility toward the most vulnerable.
Politically, Odisha is witnessing a rare upheaval. A newly elected government is now being accused of failure at a scale usually seen during a regime’s final days. The Congress is using the moment to fuel its national revival strategy, while the BJD is back on the streets with public outrage at its back. The BJP, once basking in post-election glory, is now struggling to explain its silence and inaction.
A bench comprising Justice Suryakant and Justice Joymallya Bagchi remarked, “We are ashamed of such incidents,” and stated the need for a safe environment for school-going girls, domestic women, and children, particularly in rural areas.The court has sought concrete suggestions from the Centre and concerned parties on improving women’s safety.
Describing the incident as “extremely unfortunate,” the bench underscored its serious concern over increasing crimes against women and children
The tragedy in Balasore, brought to the Supreme Court’s notice by the Women Lawyers Association, is not just one case—it is a symbol of everything that is broken. It speaks of an education system where a young girl’s plea for help is dismissed until her body burns in protest. It speaks of a justice system that only stirs after death. It speaks of a political system that promises Beti Bachao but delivers headlines soaked in blood and betrayal.
There is still time for Odisha to rise—if only its leaders choose to listen, to act, and to protect. This is not just a political crisis but a moral one. The girls of Odisha do not need slogans. They need safety, dignity, and justice. Until then, every celebration will ring hollow, every rally will echo with unhealed pain, and every silence will be seen as complicity.
