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Even After Kintan Was Gone, We Kept On Fighting, And They Tried To Silence Us...

( words)
*For representational purpose only.

On January 11th, 2024, my heart broke when my son, usually so full of happiness, came home with a face that looked numb and sad. He attends Sarvodaya Bal Vidyalaya in Lalita Block, Shastri Nagar, Delhi, where he's in the sixth grade under the Delhi government's care.  

My heart sank as I learned that Kintan had been mercilessly beaten by his seniors. I felt so helpless, knowing my son was suffering.

Kintan himself came home and told us everything; the school administration remained silent and did not offer any assistance. Instead, they tried to keep it quiet, which made me feel even more frustrated and angry. The school people are still trying to prove that all this incident happened outside of school hours. 

Kintan was limping and was in a lot of pain when he returned from school. It broke my heart to see him in pain. Without wasting a moment, I took him to the nearby Delhi government hospital. But when we got there, there were no doctors to help us. They only gave him some mild medicine, and it wasn't enough to ease his pain.

We went back to the school, hoping they'd help us, but they just asked for more time. It felt like they didn't care about what happened to Kintan. We tried the hospital again, but it was the same story—no doctors, just mild medicine. 

I couldn't stand to see my son suffer anymore, so I took him to a private doctor in Rohini. They put a cast on his injuries and gave him some medicine, but it didn't seem to make much of a difference. Kintan's condition kept getting worse.

On January 20th, we rushed him back to the Delhi government hospital. Again, no doctors were available, and they could only offer mild medicine. It was heartbreaking to see Kintan in so much pain, and I felt so helpless. 

Eventually, despite our best efforts, Kintan passed away during treatment. 20 minutes before Kintan's death, doctors were saying that he was healthy. I was devastated, and it felt like the world had come crashing down around me. The school still didn't do anything to help us, and it felt like nobody cared about what happened to my son.

Even after Kintan was gone, we kept fighting for justice. But instead of helping us, the school and the government tried to silence us. They made it difficult for us to get information about what happened to Kintan, and they refused to let us file a report with the police. 

We didn't give up, though. We protested outside the school for 14 days, demanding justice for Kintan. But instead of listening to us, they tried to intimidate us. They even arrested us and tried to make us out to be troublemakers. 

Despite everything, we refused to be silenced. We continued to fight for justice from the rooftop of our home. It felt like the whole world was against us, but we wouldn't stop until we got the justice Kintan deserved. 

After 73 days of fighting, we finally got the attention of the Delhi High Court. They asked the government to report on Kintan's case within three weeks. It felt like a small victory, but we knew we still had a long way to go. 

Even now, the pain of losing Kintan and the fight for justice continue to weigh heavily on me. But I won't give up until the people responsible for hurting my son are held accountable.

Every day, the pain of losing Kintan and fighting for justice gets harder to bear. I can't forget his sweet smile and laughter; they stay with me. I cannot help but wonder what kind of world we live in, where a child's suffering can be ignored and justice denied. If Kintan does not receive the justice he deserves, there will be countless others like him who will continue to suffer in silence. We refuse to let his memory fade into obscurity, for he deserves nothing less than the truth. 

If justice is not served for Kintan, there may be many more children like him who will suffer needlessly. It's heartbreaking to think that cases like Kintan's are often overlooked or suppressed due to the influence of those in power. But here we stand, determined to fight for the justice that my 11-year-old son deserves. We refuse to let his memory be forgotten.

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