Who are these animals?

After Hyderabad and Kolkata: What Makes a Rapist?

With the rape and murder of the Hyderabad veterinarian still raw in public memory, and more recently the horrific incident at Kolkata’s RG Kar Medical College, it feels like the country’s collective patience has snapped.

Each case follows a depressingly familiar pattern: outrage, protests, demands for instant justice, and a brief political scramble—until the next atrocity replaces it.

A Society on the Edge

In the aftermath of these crimes, there are always reports of mobs attempting to lynch the accused, parading them, or demanding extrajudicial punishment. It is not difficult to understand the rage. When justice appears slow, abstract, or performative, people begin to believe that fear is the only deterrent left.

If the state cannot enforce a punishment that the average offender genuinely fears, there is a real danger that citizens will begin to take matters into their own hands—not out of cruelty, but out of despair.

The Question We Avoid

But beyond punishment lies a far more uncomfortable question—one that rarely gets sustained attention.

What makes a rapist?

And more disturbingly, what makes a child rapist? Or a rapist who then goes on to murder?

These are not rhetorical questions. They are urgent ones.

Looking at Men Differently

There is an insidious psychological toll these crimes take on society. Walking through public spaces, one begins to look at men differently—wondering, irrationally yet irresistibly, whether the person standing next to you is capable of such violence.

When a man looks at a four-year-old child, does he not see a child? What kind of cognitive or moral collapse allows an infant to be sexualised? Does the brain rot to such an extent, or was it never wired correctly to begin with?

From Violence to Murder

And what pushes a rapist to murder? Is it fear of being identified? A complete absence of empathy? Or the knowledge—conscious or otherwise—that consequences are negotiable?

Each explanation is horrifying in its own way.

Prevention, Not Just Punishment

The law is necessary. Severe punishment may even be justified. But punishment only reacts—it does not prevent.

So what do we do to prevent this violence from occurring in the first place?

Do we examine early childhood trauma? Pornography exposure? Toxic masculinity? Policing failures? Judicial delays? Cultural silence around consent?

Or do we continue oscillating between outrage and amnesia?

Seeking Answers

Cases like Hyderabad and Kolkata force us to confront a truth we would rather avoid: a society that only discusses punishment after the fact has already failed.

I don’t have answers. But I am seeking them—because until we do, this cycle will continue, and the names of cities will keep changing.