As the first blog entry got exhausted. My second book |
| Evolution of Love Part 2 |
| “Something must have happened that night.” That was how most people remembered her — a voice calm, firm, not swayed by power or popularity. She was Damayanti Sen, an IPS officer who refused to look away when a truth begged to be uncovered. Born on 13 January 1970 in Kolkata, she carried with her a master’s degree in Economics — but her real calling would come as a guardian of justice, not as an economist. Damayanti’s career started in 1996, when she joined the police service, assigned first as probation officer. Over time she rose through the ranks — serving as Deputy Commissioner in multiple zones of Kolkata, heading the detective department, and eventually becoming the first woman to serve as Joint Commissioner (Crime) in Kolkata Police. Then came February 2012. A woman, an Anglo-Indian mother of two, alleged that she had been gang-raped inside a moving car after a night out on Kolkata’s famous Park Street. Authorities rushed to dismiss the claim — even the Chief Minister called it a “fabricated incident.” But Damayanti could not ignore her instincts — or the victim’s pain. As head of the crimes division, she quietly, persistently, methodically carried on the investigation. Her team worked through CCTV footage, witness statements, forensic evidence — refusing to be swayed by politics, rumors or threats. And soon enough, she and her team arrested the culprits. The arrest was more than a legal victory — it was a quiet declaration: justice will not be bartered for convenience. The woman later praised Damayanti’s courage — calling her a “tigress.” But bravery often has a price. Within two months of the arrests, Damayanti was removed from her high-profile post. She was sent away from the city — DIG (Training) at Barrackpore, then to remote postings like Darjeeling, CID, and other administrative roles. Many in the force believed it was punishment for having dared to stand for truth. In those years away from the spotlight, she didn’t change. She carried on — handled other investigations, fought wrongs, stood by victims. She earned commendations, including the Police Medal for Meritorious Service. Then in 2019, after seven quiet years, she returned — back to Kolkata Police, this time as Additional Commissioner. Her comeback said more than any award could — she was still trusted by many, and still determined to serve. Time passed, and in 2022 when multiple brutal rape cases shook West Bengal, the Calcutta High Court entrusted Damayanti with supervising the investigations. The court made that decision because it remembered — she was the officer who dared to confront power, and delivered justice. Her journey is not just a career path; it is testament to integrity. She could have remained silent when powerful voices dismissed a woman’s cry. She could have protected her own career. But she chose justice. Imagine what that meant — to be the only woman at the top of crime investigation in a city that never sleeps, a city where rumors travel faster than the truth, a city where many fear to speak. She stood firm. She listened. She investigated. She delivered. When the police force transferred her to less-glamorous posts — maybe they thought she could be forgotten. But actions can’t be erased. Victims had names. Families had hopes. And for them, Damayanti didn’t fade away. Years later, in courtrooms and in public memory, the names of victims mattered. So did the name of the woman who refused to let power silence them. If you ask what makes her story special — it is not just one case. It is the weight she carried every day: that uniform. That badge. That oath. And behind it, a human heart that believed: if you don’t speak for the voiceless, who will? Sometimes justice doesn’t roar with headlines. Sometimes it whispers in late-night investigations, in demand for evidence, in pressing charges when everyone else remains quiet. Damayanti Sen whispered that justice still lives. When she was asked decades later to oversee new investigations into crimes against women, the High Court’s call was more than an assignment. It was faith — faith in a woman who, despite everything, held on. Her story ends not with a medal or a promotion, but with a promise — that even when the world doubted, someone stood up. Might you hear that promise, feel its tremor? And might you believe — sometimes one voice, one woman, can be enough. |