I don’t want to mourn Sabrina Lall’s death. Instead, I want to celebrate her life. I want to remember her as a braveheart, a fighter, and as a person of great integrity and compassion. I want to remember her as a warrior who was not afraid to fight for justice, no matter the power and strength of the opposition.

I want to remember Sabrina as a person who was responsible for galvanising the consciousness of a country into questioning — are you ready to take injustice lying down?

She certainly was not!

In a city like Delhi, that had more power than it could handle, she made us believe that courage is not something that can be bought by power and money — that courage is to stand up, face it and fight, no matter how strong the headwinds are. I also want to remember her as a gentle, beautiful, introvert soul — full of understanding and compassion for fellow human beings.

In films, the screen heroes always put up remarkable and sometimes unbelievable fights against villains and win against all odds. The part of the heroes is aptly written on paper, propped up and performed inside the confines of a studio, ably guided and assisted by highly skilled stuntmen.

In real life, there is no script, no studio, no stuntman or a stuntwoman to fight your fights. I want to remember Sabrina as someone who fought her own fights, including an incredible one, against all odds and she WON. I want to remember her as a HERO, a REAL ONE!

“The sense of loss remains. See, the gain has only been putting a certain thing to end, which was punishing the boy who perpetrated the crime. But that cannot bring back any of the people I’ve lost. It cannot bring back my mother or my father. When I look back, have I gained anything? I don’t think so. But like my family, I try and look at the positive side of things. I hope they’re happy wherever they are, life has to carry on. I can’t spend my life crying and moping all the time, I think the happier I am and the more I do in my life, they will be happier too... I believe they are somewhere around.”

“He messed up my family and I think he has paid for it. Fifteen years is a long enough time. I wanted justice for my sister, and I think I achieved it. Now whether he spends another two years in jail or three years, it doesn’t really matter to me.”

“It’s not about forgiveness. It’s that I don’t really — it sounds horrible — I don’t care if he comes out of jail. He messed up my entire family and I think he has paid for it. Fifteen years is a long enough time.”

“It’s been far too long for me to hold on to so much anger and resentment, and I just don’t feel that it is worth it anymore.”