An India caught between progress and pain witnesses a solitary figure striding forward—sandals worn thin by distance, heart weighed down by grief and determination. His name is Anil Chauhan—a navigation officer by profession, a grieving widower by fate, and a determined crusader by choice. He walks not for accolades or recognition, but for a cause: capital punishment for rapists.
With each step, he demands justice, change, and a future where his two young daughters—motherless, aged just 11 and 9—can grow up in a country where they are safe.
Their journey—equal parts protest, pilgrimage and plea—began in 2023 in Daman and Diu. On Wednesday, they trudged through Shantipur, Nadia, under the sweltering West Bengal sun. Their destination is nothing short of revolutionary—a rape-free India.
Anil’s steps are not mere physical exertion. They are a demand for justice—a refusal to accept a system that he believes fails its daughters. His stance is clear: “Rapists must be hanged. Only then will this country be safe for girls.”
He speaks with unflinching conviction, rejecting half-measures. Gesturing to the road that stretches endlessly before him, he declared, “This land is beautiful, but it’s cursed for women. Every day, there's another atrocity. Another girl whose dreams are murdered. And then the courts drag on for years. Where is the justice in that?”
For Anil, this is not a mere protest—it is a personal battle. His two daughters are not just passive participants. They are the heartbeat of this march. While their feet blister, their minds continue to bloom, thanks to the online education they pursue on the road. Their classroom is wherever the sky stretches wide.
“There’s been no disruption in their education,” Anil insists, adding, “because their future must remain intact, no matter what.”
Also read: Pollachi sexual assault case: 9 guilty get life term till death
He speaks of their dreams with a fierce protectiveness. “One wants to be a doctor, the other a pilot. Why should a monster with no conscience threaten that?” he asks, his eyes ablaze with purpose.
Their daily routine is a discipline forged by necessity and determination. In the oppressive West Bengal heat, Anil begins his march at 4 a.m., covers ground until noon, rests briefly, and then pushes on until 4 p.m.—covering nearly 25 kilometres a day. Luxuries are a distant memory. Nights are spent in temples, dharamshalas, or even under the open sky at petrol pump shelters.
Yet, they have rarely walked alone. Bengal, Anil says, has embraced them.
“In 90 per cent of cases, we don’t spend a single rupee. Strangers feed us, shelter us, walk beside us and listen. That keeps us going,” he said.
Anil is not here for applause. He marches against fear, against silence, and for a future where his daughters can walk free. He is neither a politician, nor a preacher, nor a performer. He is a father—and that, it turns out, is the fiercest kind of activist.
As he puts one foot in front of the other, thousands follow in spirit, stirred by the quiet courage of a man who chose not to wait for change, but to become it.
Anil believes, "This is not just a journey. It is a statement etched into the dust of India’s highways. A father’s long walk home—not to a house, but to a future where no girl lives in fear."
Follow us
