When women attempt to name and shame their aggressors, they are asked to follow due process. When they do follow due process, as the former Supreme Court staffer did in a detailed affidavit on allegations against CJI Ranjan Gogoi, the process is long and tortuous. As most women know, due process is code for being on trial themselves.

Men exercise power in sexual harassment cases not by fighting the charges levelled at them, but through counter-charges that invalidate complaints made against them. Only days after the allegation against Chief Justice Ranjan Gogoi by an ex-SC staffer, there was a parallel discussion on how he had been framed as a part of a larger conspiracy to “deactivate” the CJI’s office.

Generations after the British packed up and left, we continue to swoon over a British accent, dream of watching a cricket match at Lord’s, and consider Colin Firth as a legit avatar of Mr Darcy. A fair bit of the English-speaking urban Indian population are embarrassingly obsessed with the United Kingdom and its royal family.

Throughout history, women have been publicly shamed for any number of reasons, from adultery, witchcraft, smiling, walking, even existing. We shamed “aunty ji” for her comments, for her clothes, her appearance, her accent — even though we’re aware that public shaming has never been a tool of those who know better.

PepsiCo sued four farmers in Gujarat for growing what they call “Lays Potatoes”. But the “boycott crew”, a group of Indian social media commenters that cancels any corporate that does something against their views, was conspicuously absent. Surf, Snapchat, and Snapdeal have all felt their heat in the past – but not the makers of potato chips.

Bilkis Bano was 19 when she was gang-raped in Godhra during the 2002 pogrom; her family was murdered in front of her. Seventeen years later, the Supreme Court instructed the Gujarat government to pay her ₹50 lakh as compensation – the highest amount provided to a rape victim in India. The order recognises not just the state’s inaction but also its obligations to survivors of horrific acts of violence.

Sunday’s explosions are all too familiar for Sri Lankans who survived the civil war, which ended ten years ago. The suicide bombings bring back memories of its tragic past. Between 1980 and 2000, the LTTE carried out more than 160 suicide bombings across the country.

A line from the dramedy Hindi Medium has stayed with me: “Angrezi sirf zubaan nahi, class hai class.” My “Gujarati-medium” parents understood this years ago when they insisted upon an English education for me. But our obsession with the language has become a tool of discrimination – aimed against ourselves.

In Indian homes, closed doors hold dark secrets; they’re a salacious stand-in for “the deed”. Closed doors evoke innuendos, like the suggestive “Hum tum ek kamre mein band ho’n” from Bobby. But today’s generation thrives on the belief that there’s more to fear from closed minds than from closed doors.

On this fateful day 100 years ago, India’s heart, the colour of its blood changed. The Jallianwala Bagh massacre is a stain on the mottled history of the heinous British Raj. So can Theresa May’s almost-apology accomplish anything if Britain continues whitewashing its imperialistic past?