A young life cut short is always heartbreaking. But when death comes from a place where there should have been “trust, companionship and care”, the tragedy becomes even harder to comprehend. The death of 22-year-old Guwahati University student Nimisha Thakuria leaves behind precisely such disturbing questions.
In the early hours of September 26, Nimisha was found unconscious in the Garal-Azara area and was later declared dead at Guwahati Medical College and Hospital. What makes the tragedy almost unbearable is the family’s account of her final distress call from Rudra’s Kitchen homestay in Dharapur‑Garal, near Guwahati, Assam.
Reports suggest that the couple had stayed at the same homestay as many as five times in the preceding month, making the place apparently familiar to them rather than a one-off destination. Shortly before her death, Nimisha reportedly called her mother, saying she was being brutally beaten and was struggling to breathe. One can only imagine what her mother must have felt and what thoughts must have raced through her mind at that terrifying moment.
The police are investigating the case and charges for serious offences, including murder and gang rape, have been registered. The principal accused, her romantic partner Ashiq Ali, has been remanded to police custody, while others connected with the homestay where the incident occurred are also being questioned. The law must now be allowed to uncover the truth without prejudice.
Beyond the police files lies an even more troubling question: why do such brutal incidents, particularly from one community, keep recurring? Why do allegations of concealed identity, sometimes through the use of false names, along with manipulation, sexual exploitation and coercion, continue to surface in different parts of the country?
At what point does affection turn into possession, companionship into cruelty and a human relationship into a murderous trap? Have some among our younger generation lost their way in a wilderness where physical desire masquerades as love? Love has always called for patience, sacrifice, and the willingness to care for another person beyond one’s own selfish impulses. Yet, in an age increasingly driven by instant gratification, are these deeper values quietly slipping away?
Recent cases make the question still more unsettling. In August, the Railway Protection Force rescued two minor Hindu girls, aged 15 and 17, at the Ahmedabad railway station after they were allegedly befriended through social media and online gaming and then abducted from Jodhpur. Two young Muslim men were arrested and investigators recovered a fake e-Aadhaar card bearing the name “Aryan”. Here again, trust appears to have been cultivated in the virtual world before the girls were pulled away from home. One shudders to think how easily a friendly message on a screen can open the door to something far more sinister.
In Lucknow’s Chowk area, a Hindu woman alleged that she came into contact with Shahrukh Khan, alias Raftaar, through a chat app. According to her complaint, the man concealed his religious identity as well as a prior marriage, and initially assured her that there would be no question of religious conversion. But, as she alleged, things took a very different turn later. She was reportedly coerced into reciting the kalma, following which a nikah was performed. When she discovered what she described as the deception and raised objections, she faced harassment, abuse, and even threats to her life from the accused and his family.
Based on her complaint, the police registered an FIR against Shahrukh Khan, his brother, mother, and sister under stringent provisions of the law and began investigating the digital trail and the involvement of his family. Of course, the investigation must now establish the truth. Yet the case raises an uncomfortable question: why do allegations involving online courtship, concealed identities, fraudulent marriage arrangements, and coercion over religious conversion keep surfacing across the country? If a relationship begins with deception and ends in fear, one may well ask whether it deserves to be called love at all.
How long can we remain complacent about such relationships in which intimacy races ahead of emotional maturity and responsibility? Live‑in relationships are increasingly catching on among young adults, yet they are now turning into recipes for disaster. Some rightly argue that live‑in relationships have been used as tools to desecrate not just the marital institution but to stab the very heart of our civilisation. The horrendous Shraddha Walkar case, in which Aaftab Amin Poonawala is accused of murdering his live‑in partner in 2022 and chopping her body into 35 pieces, serves as a grim reminder.
Needless to say, today, when there is no control from family and society, raw desire of the youth hijacks sanity; trust can indeed be butchered and the social fabric made to bleed. But sadly, custodians of the law seem to be only rubbing salt into the wound.
How one wishes that Nimisha’s tragedy, along with the other disturbing cases mentioned above, would serve as a wake-up call. How on earth does the government take such a laid-back attitude? Of course, young people are increasingly calling for greater freedom. But one may well ask: what kind of freedom? No freedom should ever lead someone to the “graveyard” or erode the deeper values of restraint, responsibility and respect that lie at the heart of Sanatan values. Nothing is more alarming than seeing young women fall into dangerous traps despite cautionary films such as The Kerala Story and repeated warnings from family members and concerned well‑wishers.
