Scary saga of Epstein: unmatching in Indian context
In a recent case, State of Uttar Pradesh v. Anurudh, decided around early January 2026, Justices Sanjay Karol and N. Kotiswar Singh highlighted how families misuse POCSO against inter-caste or inter-faith teen couples. The court urged Parliament to introduce a Romeo-Juliet clause, which would exempt consensual acts between peers close in age, say 16- to 18-year-olds, while keeping strict punishments for actual abuse. They compared it to similar issues with Section 498A of the IPC and asked the Law Secretary to explore ways to stop such overreach.
Indira Jaising, appearing as amicus curiae in the Nipun Saxena case, strongly argued for dropping the consent age to 16. She pointed to constitutional rights like privacy and personal autonomy for those aged 16-18. Jaising criticized how POCSO turns voluntary teen intimacy into rape charges, often hitting boys hard in mutual relationships. She called for close-in-age exceptions to align the law with biology and social realities, preventing lifelong stigma from what are essentially peer explorations.
POCSO cases have exploded, with many involving teens where girls later confirm consent, yet boys face arrest and trial. Courts frequently see manipulated ages, ignored school documents, and family pressures turning love into legal battles. The law's rigidity clashes with adolescent development and basic rights under Article 21 of the Constitution.
The government resists lowering to 16, arguing it could let exploiters hide behind fake consent claims from immature girls. Critics say 16-year-olds often lack the judgment to spot grooming, and India raised the age post-2012 Delhi gang-rape to strengthen safeguards in line with global child rights norms. Weakening it risks more harm under the guise of romance.
But the case of India is different. In India, the reverence for girls runs deep, woven into the fabric of culture and spirituality, transcending all divides. From bustling cities to quiet villages, they are celebrated as embodiments of Shakti—the divine feminine energy that powers creation, preservation, and transformation. No barriers of caste, creed, region, or background dim this glow; every girl is a goddess in her own right, worshipped with unwavering devotion.
Picture vibrant festivals where communities gather under colorful canopies, offering sweets, flowers, and chants to young girls symbolizing purity and prosperity. In homes, daughters are cherished treasures, their laughter echoing as blessings for the family’s future. Mothers pass down tales of fierce devis like Durga and Lakshmi, inspiring girls to rise with strength and grace. Schools buzz with equal opportunities, nurturing minds without prejudice, fueling dreams from engineering marvels to artistic masterpieces.
This worship manifests in daily rituals: a tilak on her forehead at dawn, protective mantras whispered for her safety, and joyous dances on her achievements. Society bends to protect and empower her, recognizing that her success lifts nations. In boardrooms or fields, her voice commands respect, her spirit unites hearts. Indian girls, in their boundless potential, are the heartbeat of progress—adored, elevated, and eternally divine, binding humanity in harmonious equality.
Indian belief is totally agaist the above. Western beliefs about women have evolved dramatically, shaped by philosophy, religion, and social movements. Rooted in ancient Greek thought, women were often viewed as inferior—Aristotelian ideas portrayed them as incomplete males, rationalized by biology and suited for domestic roles. Christianity reinforced this through biblical interpretations, like Eve's creation from Adam's rib, emphasizing submission and motherhood over autonomy. The Jeffrey Epstein saga which is one of the most high-profile scandals involving wealth, power, and systemic failure in modern history is obvious in westerns belief system.
Thetefore, pushing the age of consensual sex from 18 to 16 will be a recipe for disaster for the underprivileged families/individuals. India stands at a crossroads of rapid modernization and persistent inequality. The temptation to pursue blind extension without tailored safeguards—looms large. Governments and policymakers often champion these extensions as panaceas for progress, pushing them uniformly across a diverse nation. Yet, this approach ignores the stark realities of India's social fabric. A vast underprivileged population, comprising rural laborers, urban slum dwellers, tribal communities, and low-caste groups, remains sidelined. Compounding this is a justice system that is notoriously inaccessible, riddled with delays, corruption, and geographic barriers. For girls from these underprivileged sections, the risks are exponentially higher, exposing them to exploitation, violence, and lifelong marginalization. Blind extension in this context would not just fail; it would deepen divides, entrench vulnerabilities, and spark widespread disaster.
At its core, blind extension assumes a one-size-fits-all model works in a country as heterogeneous as India. With over 1.4 billion people, India is home to immense diversity in language, culture, economy, and opportunity. The underprivileged, often making up more than half the population, live in cycles of poverty that limit access to education, healthcare, and basic services. Extending complex systems—like digital governance platforms, AI-driven surveillance, or uniform legal mandates—without addressing these gaps invites chaos. Imagine rolling out a nationwide digital identity system requiring smartphones and internet access. For urban elites, it's seamless. For a Dalit farmer in Bihar's hinterlands or a tribal woman in Odisha's hills, it's an impenetrable wall. They lack devices, connectivity, or even electricity. The result? Exclusion from welfare benefits, jobs, or services, pushing them further into destitution.
This exclusion is no abstract concern; it manifests in everyday tragedies. Underprivileged communities already grapple with malnutrition, illiteracy, and debt bondage. Blind extension amplifies these woes by creating new barriers. Take economic policies extended blindly, such as demonetization-like shocks or abrupt digital payment mandates. Small vendors in Mumbai's Dharavi slums or Patna's roadside markets lose livelihoods overnight, unable to adapt without banking literacy or infrastructure. Families plunge deeper into poverty, forcing children—especially girls—into labor or early marriage. The underprivileged bear the brunt because they lack buffers: no savings, no networks, no recourse.
The justice system's inaccessibility turns this exclusion into peril. India's courts are overburdened, with over 50 million pending cases, many languishing for decades. Rural police stations are understaffed, biased, and distant—often hours or days away by foot or unreliable transport. For the poor, legal aid exists on paper but crumbles in practice due to bribes, language barriers, and intimidation. Blind extension of laws or tech into this void means violations go unchecked. A new surveillance law extended nationwide might aim to curb crime, but without oversight, it becomes a tool for state overreach against dissenters in underprivileged areas. Protests by farmers or tribals get labeled as "anti-national," met with digital blackouts or arbitrary arrests. Justice? Unattainable.
Girls from underprivileged sections embody the human cost of this blindness. In India, they face intersecting vulnerabilities: gender discrimination, caste prejudice, economic desperation, and patriarchal norms. From birth, they are devalued—female infanticide persists in pockets, and nutrition gaps stunt their growth. School dropout rates soar post-puberty due to lack of toilets, safety fears, or household duties. Blind extension exacerbates this. Consider educational reforms pushing online learning nationwide during disruptions like pandemics. Affluent girls in metros attend virtual classes; underprivileged ones in villages stare at blank screens, no devices or data in sight. The learning loss cements illiteracy, trapping them in low-skill cycles.
Worse, blind extensions in safety nets or labor laws expose them to predation. Extending gig economy platforms without protections means girls from slums become delivery workers or domestic helps, navigating unsafe streets at odd hours without grievance mechanisms. Justice inaccessibility seals their fate: a harassed girl reports assault at a distant station, only to face slut-shaming, bribe demands, or case dilution. In underprivileged belts like Bihar, Uttar Pradesh, or Jharkhand, girls endure child marriage, trafficking, and domestic violence at alarming rates. A blindly extended child protection law sounds noble, but without local enforcement, it remains ink on paper. Traffickers thrive, luring vulnerable girls with false job promises to urban brothels or factories.
Expand this lens to health and welfare. Blind rollout of telemedicine or digital health records promises efficiency, but underprivileged girls in remote areas lack transport to connectivity points or awareness of apps. Maternal mortality remains high among them due to anemia, early pregnancies, and quack treatments—blind extensions of urban-centric health tech bypass them entirely. Welfare schemes like cash transfers glitch on biometric failures from malnourished fingerprints, denying aid when it's needed most. The justice system's role? Negligible. A widow fighting for her pension faces endless paperwork, corruption, and fatigue, her daughters inheriting the struggle.
Socially, blind extension erodes community fabrics that underprivileged groups rely on. Traditional support systems—panchayats, kinship networks—offer informal justice, flawed but accessible. Imposing uniform urban models dismantles these without replacements. Girls suffer most: in tribal areas, customary laws protect against outsider exploitation; blind legal overhauls invite land grabs, displacing families and pushing daughters into vulnerability. Urban migration follows, where slum girls face sexual harassment in factories or streets, with police more likely to side with employers than workers.
Economically, the disaster unfolds in lost potential. Underprivileged youth, especially girls, represent untapped human capital. Blind skill programs extended via apps ignore their realities—no electricity, no mentors. They end up in informal sectors, easy prey for exploitation. Justice delays compound this: labor disputes drag for years, discouraging formal employment. A girl factory worker enduring harassment quits, her dreams dashed.
Politically, blind extension breeds resentment. Underprivileged voices, already muted, turn to extremism or apathy. Maoist insurgencies in central India thrive on grievances over resource grabs—blind mining extensions displace tribals, girls among the displaced becoming recruits or victims. In the northeast, uniform policies ignore ethnic sensitivities, fueling unrest.
To grasp the scale, consider rural India, where 65% live. A village girl wakes to fetch water miles away, attends sporadic school, helps in fields, and dreams vaguely of escape. Blind extension of urban policies—smart cities, digital economies—leaves her behind. She marries young, bears children early, and perpetuates the cycle. Her urban counterpart accesses scholarships, safety nets; the gulf widens.
Mitigation demands nuance, not blindness. Policies must be piloted locally, with underprivileged input. Justice reforms prioritize mobile courts, women-only stations, and tech bridges like community kiosks. For girls, targeted interventions—safe transport, hostels, skill hubs—counter vulnerabilities. Yet, without curbing blind extension, these remain dreams.
The human stories underscore the stakes. Think of a Bihar slum girl, trafficked after a blind job scheme promise. Or an Odisha tribal facing land loss from unchecked dams, her family scattered. Justice? A mirage. These aren't statistics; they're lives unraveling.
Blind extension appears to be progressive but will deliver only abuse. India's underprivileged, girls, can't afford this gamble. A tailored approach—grounded in accessibility and equity—is imperative. Otherwise, disaster looms, not as explosion, but as slow erosion of hope.
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