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Justice Delayed: The Hidden Gaps in Rape Law


Author: Sabari Manisha, Chennai Dr. Ambedkar Government Law College, Pudupakkam.


Introduction

In India, reports of rape appear in headlines almost daily but behind those headlines lie stories of women still waiting for justice. Some wait for days, some for years, and some never see it at all. What’s worse is that even when the law seems to move, it crawls held back by outdated practices, missing evidence, and a system that often punishes the survivor more than the accused.


People say “India has strict rape laws.” Yes, it does on paper. But ask the families who’ve run from court to court for years. Ask the girls who backed out of trials because of threats. Ask the mothers who watch their daughters suffer in silence while the rapist walks out on bail.


This blog isn’t just about law, it's about what the law misses. It’s for every voice that was silenced, every case that was lost in delay, and every loophole that helped a criminal escape. As a future lawyer, I believe justice should never depend on privilege, delay, or luck. It should depend on truth and that’s where we need to start looking harder.


Where the Law Stands and Where It Falls

Whenever I read Section 375 of the IPC, it feels like a strong statement: that our country refuses to tolerate rape. But then I look at the news—or worse, I listen to real people’s stories—and I see the cracks. We’ve had laws for decades. We added more after the 2012 Delhi gang rape. They changed the words, the sections, even the definitions but somehow, the system still makes survivors feel like they’re the ones on trial.


After Nirbhaya, Parliament brought in the Criminal Law (Amendment) Act, 2013. It widened the legal meaning of rape now it’s not just about one kind of assault, but any forced sexual act. The punishment? Minimum ten years, and in some cases, life or even death. It sounds like justice on paper. But in reality, many victims are still waiting. And not just waiting for a court verdict they’re waiting for someone to believe them, support them, stand beside them.


A law says the investigation should be done in two months. But how often does that happen? Courts keep adjourning. Forensic reports get delayed. Survivors are asked the same humiliating questions again and again. Even children protected under the POCSO Act, 2012 aren’t spared. Some don’t even understand what happened to them and yet they’re expected to stand in court and relive their trauma.


These laws were made to protect. But what use are words if the system behind them is tired, slow, or just doesn’t care? Justice, in these cases, isn’t denied, it's quietly delayed until the survivor either breaks or walks away.


Where Justice Falls


Let’s not sugarcoat it when a woman is raped, the nightmare doesn’t end with the attack. It keeps going. In courtrooms. In police stations. In this way everyone keeps asking her to repeat, relive, and reprove what happened  like she has something to prove.


Justice? They say rape trials should wrap up in two months.But those deadlines are a joke. Trials go on for years. Judges change. Lawyers stall. Witnesses disappear. And the survivor shows up again and again, holding on to hope, only to walk out more broken than before.


And then there’s the evidence. Everyone talks about how crucial it is. But no one tells survivors what that actually means. No one tells them what to do right after it happens. Some hospitals don’t even have the basic kits to collect samples. And in some states  entire states  there’s just one working forensic lab.One For millions of people.


There have been cases where samples sat in police stations, unrefrigerated, for days. Completely useless by the time they reached the lab. And when the report finally comes back saying “inconclusive,” the accused walks away. That’s not justice. That’s a system choosing convenience over truth.


Fast-track courts? They exist. On paper. In reality, many don’t have a trained judge or a dedicated prosecutor. There’s no urgency. No sensitivity. Just another line of survivors waits in, hoping someone will finally listen.


But the wait is long. And cruel. Some survivors stop showing up. Not because they lied. But because they’ve had enough. The system didn’t just fail them once. It kept failing them until they gave up.


And honestly? Who can blame them?


When the Protectors Turn Perpetrators

And just when you think things can’t get worse, they do. In Uttar Pradesh’s Lalitpur district, a minor girl, already a gang-rape victim, went to the police station to file a complaint. She was there for help. Instead, she was allegedly raped  again this time by the Station House Officer, the very person responsible for protecting her. Can you imagine the kind of fear and betrayal that leaves behind?


The officer, Tilakdhari Saroj, was later suspended and named in the FIR along with five others. But the damage? It was already done. If even a police station isn’t a safe place for a survivor, where else is she supposed to go?


Comparative Lens: What the World Teaches Us About Listening to Survivors

It’s hard not to feel tired sometimes  not because we don’t have laws, but because no one seems to care how they work in practice. And when you look outside India, the contrast hits even harder. Countries like the UK, the US, and parts of Europe have their own battles, but they seem to fight them a little more responsibly. Maybe because they’ve stopped pretending the problem isn’t real.


In the United Kingdom, for instance, survivors aren’t just asked to narrate what happened, they're offered emotional support from day one. The law gives space to trained professionals called Independent Sexual Violence Advisors (ISVAs). Their job isn’t to collect evidence or argue in court. Their job is simply to stand beside the survivor through interviews, medical exams, and courtrooms. That kind of support, especially when trauma has already made the world blurry, is powerful.


Compare that to India, where even FIRs feel like emotional interrogations. Survivors are told to be “strong” and “cooperate,” when what they really need is time, safety, and someone who believes them.


In the United States, things haven’t been perfect either. But after the Violence Against Women Act (VAWA) came into effect, there was a visible push for better coordination. Hospitals, police, and prosecutors started working more closely. Survivors aren’t made to run from one office to another carrying forms. Instead, Sexual Assault Response Teams (SARTs) were formed to provide everything in one place  medical help, legal guidance, counseling.


In India, the Medical Legal Case process is still messy. Often, there are no female doctors. Forensic kits are missing. Evidence gets lost. And meanwhile, the survivor is left to explain herself again and again  each time a little more numb.


Let’s not even pretend we’re anywhere near Sweden, where a revolutionary law passed in 2018 redefined rape itself. There, the law says what it should’ve said all along, only yes means yes. If a person doesn’t give clear and enthusiastic consent, it’s considered rape. That one line flips the entire burden. In India, even after a woman says “no,” courts sometimes ask why she didn’t fight harder. As if bruises are the only proof of pain.


What makes these systems better is not just their legal structure, it's their attitude. They trust the survivor more than they doubt her. They accept that trauma is not always linear. They admit that the system owes her, not the other way around.


And then there’s transparency. In the UK, detailed statistics are published every year  how many complaints were filed, how many were dropped, and how many led to convictions. This openness may be uncomfortable, but it creates pressure to improve. In India, we barely get reliable numbers, and even when we do, no one seems accountable for the gaps they reveal.


The truth is simple. No country has a perfect justice system for sexual violence. But some countries have chosen to try harder. They’ve made the choice to center the survivor not procedure, not politics. Just the person who walked into that police station hoping to be heard.


India doesn’t lack laws. We lack care.


Conclusion: The Fight Shouldn’t Be This Hard

Let’s stop pretending the system works. For too many survivors, it doesn’t. It wears them down, delays justice, and demands a kind of strength no one should have to prove just to be believed.


Laws are there  on paper. Courts are set up to be fast  in theory. But in real life? Survivors are pushed from one office to another, asked the same painful questions, treated like suspects, and forced to fight battles long after the assault. Some don’t make it to the end of the trial not because they lied, but because the process broke them.


And what’s worse? Sometimes the very people meant to protect end up doing the harm. When a rape survivor walks into a police station and doesn’t come out with safety but with more scars how can we say justice even begins?


This isn’t just about stricter laws or more courts. It’s about changing how we respond. About listening, believing, and acting  with urgency and compassion. Survivors shouldn’t have to be warriors. They should be protected, heard, and healed.


That’s the bare minimum. And we’re still not there.


References







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