Bas karo papa

"Bas karo Papa..." A whisper, barely audible, trembling with fear and exhaustion.

- Deepam Chatterjee

The last words of 17-year-old Sadhna Bhosale, a girl who carried dreams as bright as the morning sun—dreams of wearing a doctor's white coat, of healing the world's wounds. A NEET aspirant, a 92% scorer in Class X, she was a spark of promise. Yet, in her own home, under the hands of her father—a school principal, a man entrusted to nurture young minds—her light was snuffed out. Beaten to death on 22nd June 2025, over a low score on a mock test. Her only crime was being human: tired, fragile, buckling under a weight no child should bear.

Take a moment. Breathe. Let the ache of those words settle in your heart. "Bas karo Papa..." Stop. Please, stop. A plea not just to her father, but to all of us—to the part of us that demands, that pushes, that forgets to see the soul behind the struggle. This is not just Sadhna's story. It is a mirror showing us the shadow we cast when we measure worth by numbers, when we let expectations eclipse love.

In the Mundaka Upanishad, there's a story of a young archer standing before a wooden bird perched on a distant branch. His teacher's voice is gentle but firm: "Aim for the eye. What do you see?" The archer, eager to please, answers, "The bird, the tree, the sky, the leaves swaying in the breeze." The teacher shakes his head. "You see too much. See only the eye." But the archer's heart races—his father's hopes, the village's whispers, the fear of failing all cloud his vision. His arrow misses. The teacher, placing a hand on his shoulder, says, "When you chase the world's applause, you lose your own truth."