women-continue-to-pay-the-deadly-price-of-patriarchy

Think of Nisha, a 33-year-old woman from Saifai, a small town of Uttar Pradesh in Etawah district, better known to be BSP leader Akhilesh Yadav’s home turf. A mother of two, Nisha went out to buy medicines on September 6. She did not return. Instead, her severely burnt body was found by passers-by, who rushed her to a hospital. Despite being taken to three different hospitals, she succumbed to burns.

 

From her hospital bed, though, she could give a statement.

 

Nisha’s husband was working in Delhi; she lived with her children in Saifai. One Deepak Singh had been pressuring her to speak with him over the phone. Her refusal to his advances led Deepak to pour acid on her and set her ablaze with five other accomplices. Police have booked the six men for alleged murder of Nisha.

 

Even if the crawling justice delivery system manages to send the culprits to jail; it will fail to revive Nisha’s life.

 

A woman does not enjoy the liberty of refusing to take phone calls from a man in 21st century India. This leaves a serious question mark on the society we have created; on the laws governing us and the competence of law enforcing agencies.

 

Also read: Greater Noida dowry murder: Husband, mother-in-law arrested

 

High-profile crimes such as the murder of Radhika Yadav by her own father in July, or the alleged dowry death of 26-year-old Nikki Bhati in Greater Noida’s Sirsa village by her husband Vipin and her in-laws hogged limelight due to their proximity to larger cities. Stories of everyday humiliation and violations of women’s basic rights—over their bodies; properties and their very existence remain buried in the regional press in the invisible single columns. If at all they are reported, like the news of Nisha’s murder. 

 

A very small percentage of women in India are breaking the glass ceiling in many spheres of life. Their narrative highlighted by media and other digital platforms creates a false sense of gender equality in society. Look deeper and you find a large population of women, living in tier-2 and tier-3 towns, struggling to wriggle out of the minotaur of patriarchy tightening its tentacles vigorously, to counter the first narrative. 

 

Poor ‘ladki’ wale

 

Like any other developed society, in India too, dowry is illegal and those who give or take or abate dowry demand are guilty of a crime. Under Section 8 of the Dowry Prohibition Act 1961, the state government is supposed to appoint dowry prohibition officers, with powers invested that of a police officer. A dowry prohibition officer can arrest a person without a warrant and without orders of a magistrate. Dowry is a cognisable offence; non-bailable and non-compoundable.

 

Yet, in 21st century India, well-educated girls like Rithanya, from the progressive state of Tamil Nadu, died by suicide under stress for a dowry demand of Rs 100 crore. Her father had given a Rs 70 lakh worth Volvo car, 30 sovereigns of gold and 800 gm of gold jewellery in dowry. Rithanya was confined, kept hungry and tortured for more dowry. The beautiful girl, loaded with gold jewellery, smiling through her wedding pictures, drove the car, stopped at a shop, bought fumigant pesticide tablets and consumed them barely two months after her wedding. Her body was found in the parked car in Tiruppur.

 

Why were the anti-dowry laws not enforced? Where were the dowry prohibition officers? These questions are neither asked nor answered in a society where dowry remains as prevalent as demand for a fair-skinned bride.

 

Rithanya had left 10 voice messages to her father detailing her torture. The notes clearly show that she was repeatedly asked by her family to ‘adjust in the new family.’

 

Twenty-four-year-old Manisha of Baghpat, UP, had to write her suicide note on her body with a pen. The arms that were filled with bangles on the wedding day told the story of her torture by her in-laws who kept her hungry and forced an abortion demanding more dowry. Her father had given Rs 20 lakh cash and a motorbike in dowry. Her husband wanted a car and more cash to start a business. 

 

What can be more tragic; the girls from well-to-do families who are sold on the idea of ‘apna ghar basana hai’ go hungry in their so-called ‘apna ghar’. 

 

Also read: Mariticide overshadows dowry deaths in India

 

If you read the script of these tragic tales carefully, the girls’ families are equally responsible for pushing their daughters to the gallows. For centuries, ‘ladki wale’ have been made to feel somewhat inferior for giving birth to a girl. Traditionally, the girls’ father would put his ‘pagdi’ (symbol of honour) at the feet of the groom to protect and feed his daughter for the rest of her life, in lieu of the dowry. In 21st century India, women earn equally well or more, carry the progeny, all this while taking care of two families. Yet, the general condition of women remains inferior to that of a man in a family setting.

 

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Logically, there is no significance of giving dowry for an educated woman. Why should female gender require monetary compensation when it contributes more in raising a family? Even women fail to ask these questions. Their education is designed only for getting a degree.

 

Those who demand dowry are mired in patriarchy, so are those who give. For them their daughter’s happiness is secondary to ‘log kya kahenge’ syndrome. Nikki Bhati’s parents kept giving more money while telling her to adjust. So did Rithanya’s family. It never occurred to them that the money could be invested for their daughters to realise her dreams.

 

 Tech, money as bondage

 

Women’s empowerment is a complex issue. Any number of cases have defied the commonly held belief that education and financial independence are the tools of women’s emancipation. Awareness of the rights and financial prudence remains elusive to most women. When the mind is caged in traditions of patriarchal supremacy—women tend to glorify their bondage.

 

In Nikki Bhati and Rithanya’s case; the smart, young woman driving a high-end Merc or Volvo car would be perceived as empowered. The reality is—money is also a camouflage for patriarchal entitlements as is a college degree. In a poor country if you are given the toys of the rich by your parents—you are not expected to complain.

 

These young women were expected to live their mother’s life, while everything around them was changing. Their husbands as also their fathers wanted them to replicate their mother’s life. In none of the cases the mothers came on camera to give their version. It is always the father playing the victim card. He is the one who wanted the daughter’s freedom to be curtailed by arranging a marriage within the community.

 

Also read: Tennis player Radhika Yadav shot dead by father in Gurugram

 

Nikki and Radhika, who was killed by her own father, lost their lives because they were tempted to make reels. In a suffocatingly patriarchal set up, new technologies offer a window of self-expression to young women. Making reels is seen as an expression of sexuality. Technology is not supposed to loosen the noose of control. The patriarchal matrix is created to control women’s sexual choices. Nikki’s husband and in-laws were against her making reels. So was the community. In Radhika’s case, it was her father and the community. They would rather give a gun in their daughters’ hands, as was suggested by a panchayat, but won’t allow sexual choices to women.

 

The four orbits

 

To empower herself, a woman has to checkmate four orbits of control over her life. The first begins at home, at birth. The discrimination in Indian families between the genders is an open chapter. Barring a few who claim to have crossed the line—in so-called educated families, too, a son is preferred anytime over a daughter. She faces the second orbit at school, college, in buses, trains, workplaces where her gender makes her an easy prey for manipulation, exploitation and in unreported cases of sexual harassment.

 

The marriage market is tilted in favour of men. ‘Catch them young’, ‘face is fortune’, ‘fair skinned’, ‘innocent’, ‘homely’—the stereotypes still prevail. If she manages to get a man, with or without dowry, the third orbit comes into play, to control her choices in subtle and not-so-subtle manners. Every marriage may not end up in a divorce or a suicide but marriage is designed with male privileges; the way women negotiate this orbit is complex. Innumerable women put up with abusive, alcoholic, narcissist men just so their children can have a father.    

 

The patriarchal control over the law enforcement agencies and justice delivery system is the last orbit women need to confront to get justice. Ask a woman in small town to walk into a police station to report a case of sexual harassment—more often than not, she would prefer to let the culprit go. The odds are against her gender despite many all-female police stations, which are mostly in the cities.

 

In a system where women are given dole under different schemes like ‘Ladli Behna’, ‘Majhi Ladki Bahin Yojna’, ‘Lado Lakshmi Yojna’ etc, it is an admission of their weaker status in society. A statement that they need crutches. Though, the government uses the euphemism of ‘Nari Shakti’ to counterbalance the narrative.  

 

By Vandana Shukla