Trapped: Dowry Deaths, Domestic Violence, and the Hidden Crisis of Marriage in India

KAKALI DAS
“Trapped.”
It is just a word. A simple word that appears in everyday conversations and often passes unnoticed. Yet sometimes a single word is enough to reveal an entire world of pain, fear, silence, and helplessness. Before her death in Bhopal, Twisha Sharma reportedly used that word in a text message. Since then, it has remained at the centre of public discussions surrounding her case. But what makes that word so powerful is not merely the tragedy of one woman. It is the uncomfortable truth that countless women across India quietly carry the same feeling within marriages they no longer know how to explain, survive, or escape.
Perhaps that is why this story has resonated so deeply with people across the country. It is no longer only about one woman, one family, or one investigation. It has opened a larger conversation about marriage, domestic violence, dowry, financial dependence, social expectations, and women’s rights in India.
It has forced society to confront difficult questions that many would rather avoid. Why do dowry related crimes continue to exist in an India that prides itself on economic growth and educational progress? Why are educated and financially independent women still vulnerable to abuse within marriage? Why do so many women continue to suffer in silence? And why does the institution of marriage still hold such power over individual freedom and dignity?
Why is domestic violence and abuse trivialised in India?
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The answers are neither simple nor comfortable.
India today speaks confidently about becoming a global economic power. The country celebrates technological innovation, rising literacy rates, expanding infrastructure, and growing international influence. It speaks of becoming a developed nation by 2047. Yet beneath this story of progress lies another reality, one that rarely receives equal attention. Every year, thousands of women continue to face violence, harassment, coercion, and abuse inside their own homes. Every year, thousands lose their lives in circumstances linked to dowry demands and marital cruelty.
These deaths are not occurring in isolated villages hidden from public view. They are happening in cities, in educated households, in affluent families, and within marriages that began with celebration, hope, and promises of companionship. Many of these women held degrees. Many had careers. Many came from respected families. Many had dreams, ambitions, and aspirations. Yet none of these achievements were enough to protect them from systems of control that remain deeply embedded within society.
According to the National Family Health Survey Five conducted between 2019 and 2021, nearly thirty percent of ever married women in India have experienced some form of spousal violence. That means almost one in every three married women has faced violence from her husband. These figures do not describe violence committed by strangers. They describe violence occurring within homes, often at the hands of those whom society expects to be partners, protectors, and companions.

What makes this figure even more troubling is that it only reflects women who chose to disclose their experiences during a government survey. The actual number could be significantly higher. Many women never report abuse. Some speak only to close relatives. Others remain silent for years. Many never speak at all.
Physical violence remains the most visible form of abuse, but emotional abuse, psychological manipulation, coercive control, and sexual violence continue to affect millions of women as well. Yet perhaps the most disturbing aspect of the problem is not the violence itself. It is the silence surrounding it.
Many women do not approach the police. Many do not seek legal help. Many do not contact support services. Some fear retaliation. Others fear social judgment. Many simply do not believe that anyone will help them. As a result, abuse remains hidden behind closed doors, invisible until it reaches a point from which there is no return.
The statistics from the National Crime Records Bureau tell a similar story. Cruelty by husband or relatives continues to remain the largest category of crimes against women in India. More than 1.3 lakh such cases are registered every year. Alongside these figures are the numbers related to dowry deaths. More than six thousand women continue to die annually in circumstances linked to dowry related violence and harassment.
These are not merely numbers in official reports. Each number represents a life interrupted. Each number represents a daughter, a wife, a sister, a friend, and a family forever changed. Together, they reveal something important. They reveal how deeply the feeling of being trapped exists within many marriages in India.
Cases of domestic violence across India swell since Coronavirus Lockdown!
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The COVID-19 lockdown exposed this reality with unusual clarity. During the first lockdown, complaints of domestic violence increased sharply across the country. Women found themselves confined within homes where abuse already existed. Workplaces disappeared. Social interactions stopped. Community support networks became inaccessible. Weekly complaints reportedly increased from around one hundred and twenty in early March to nearly three hundred by May. Throughout the year, the National Commission for Women received more than twenty three thousand complaints related to crimes against women, with domestic violence forming a major share.
The lockdown did not create domestic violence. It revealed what was already there.
For many women, trapped is not merely a word. It is a lived reality shaped by social structures, family expectations, cultural norms, financial dependence, and fear of judgment.
Leaving a marriage in India is rarely a simple decision. It often involves much more than ending a relationship. Women are forced to confront questions that many men never have to face. What will society say? Will my parents support me? Will I be accepted back into my family? How will I support myself? What will happen to my children? Will people blame me?
These questions become invisible chains that keep many women inside harmful situations long after those situations have become dangerous.
To understand why this happens, one must look more closely at how marriage functions within Indian society. Marriage has traditionally been viewed as much more than a relationship between two individuals. It is connected to family honour, social status, inheritance, caste, community expectations, and economic interests. In many families, marriage is not seen as a bond between two people but as an alliance between two families.

Within this framework, women are often expected to leave their parental homes, adapt to unfamiliar environments, and accommodate the expectations of their husband’s family. From childhood, many girls hear the same messages repeated over and over again. Adjust. Compromise. Make it work. Keep the family together.
At first glance, these phrases may appear harmless. Yet over time they shape attitudes and expectations. They teach women that endurance is a virtue and that preserving a marriage is often more important than personal happiness, dignity, or safety. Gradually, a powerful message emerges. Staying becomes a sign of strength. Leaving becomes a sign of failure.
All About Domestic Abuse and Violence
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The concept of family honour further intensifies this pressure. A woman who leaves a marriage is often judged more harshly than a man who behaves abusively within one. Families frequently fear social embarrassment more than they fear the suffering of their daughters. As a result, many women continue enduring situations that have become emotionally, financially, or physically harmful.
This is where the conversation inevitably returns to dowry.
Despite decades of legislation, public awareness campaigns, and social progress, dowry continues to survive in modern India. This persistence represents one of the greatest contradictions of contemporary Indian society. Literacy rates have improved. Universities produce millions of graduates. More women are entering the workforce than ever before. Economic opportunities have expanded. Yet dowry linked harassment and deaths continue to occur.
The reason is simple. Education can provide knowledge. Economic growth can create wealth. But neither automatically transforms social attitudes.
Marriage continues to be treated as a transaction in many families. The value of the groom is often measured according to his qualifications, profession, salary, social status, and family background. The higher the perceived value of the groom, the greater the expectations placed upon the bride’s family.
Marriage becomes a marketplace.

Companionship takes a back seat. Material exchange becomes the focus. Expensive gifts, cash, vehicles, property, luxury items, and social prestige become part of the negotiation. Dowry may no longer always be openly demanded. Instead, it often appears disguised as gifts, support, expectations, or traditions. The terminology may change, but the underlying principle remains the same.
At its core, dowry is not simply about money. It is about power. It is about entitlement. It is about control.
Control over women has always been one of the central pillars of patriarchy, and dowry often becomes one of the tools through which that control is exercised. The persistence of dowry in educated India demonstrates that social attitudes do not change as quickly as economic indicators. Degrees may hang on walls, professional titles may be added to names, and families may move into larger homes, but deeply rooted beliefs about gender often remain untouched.
Many households continue to operate on the assumption that men are natural providers and decision makers, while women are expected to adjust, sacrifice, and accommodate. Even when women earn their own income, they are often expected to carry the primary burden of household responsibilities. Their salaries may contribute significantly to family finances, yet their authority within the household may remain limited.
Why Should Women and Not Men Live With And Serve Their in-laws?
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This contradiction reveals an important truth. Financial independence and financial freedom are not always the same thing.
A woman may be earning well and still have little control over her own finances. She may contribute to household expenses but have no role in major financial decisions. She may hand over her earnings to family members. She may be discouraged from maintaining personal savings. She may face emotional pressure whenever she attempts to exercise financial autonomy. In such situations, employment alone does not guarantee empowerment.
This reality becomes particularly important when discussing domestic violence and dowry related abuse. For years, education and employment have been promoted as solutions to women’s vulnerability. They certainly help. They create opportunities, build confidence, and provide access to resources. However, the persistence of abuse among educated and employed women shows that economic participation alone cannot dismantle unequal power structures.
Many women continue to experience emotional abuse, coercive control, and domestic violence despite being financially productive members of their households. Some face restrictions regarding their careers. Others encounter resistance when they seek professional advancement. Many are expected to manage both full time employment and the entirety of domestic responsibilities without meaningful support.
The problem therefore extends far beyond economics. It lies within social structures that continue to define women primarily through their relationships to others rather than as individuals with equal rights and aspirations.
The justice system presents another layer of complexity.

Whenever a high profile case emerges, public attention often turns toward legal procedures. Discussions begin around arrests, investigations, evidence, and bail. In several recent cases, public debate has focused on anticipatory bail, a legal protection granted to individuals who fear arrest in connection with a non bailable offence.
Under the BharatiyaNagarik Suraksha Sanhita, courts may grant anticipatory bail after considering factors such as the seriousness of the allegations, the possibility of evidence being tampered with, the likelihood of influencing witnesses, and the willingness of the accused to cooperate with investigations. The principle behind anticipatory bail is to protect personal liberty while ensuring a fair investigation.
These legal safeguards are important within any democratic system. Yet public discussions often become consumed by procedural questions while the larger social realities fade into the background. Whether a particular individual receives bail or not, the deeper issue remains unchanged. Why do such cases continue to emerge decade after decade despite the existence of laws intended to prevent them?
The answer lies partly in the gap between legislation and lived reality.

India possesses a substantial legal framework aimed at protecting women. The Constitution guarantees equality before the law under Article 14. Article 15 permits special provisions for women and children. Article 21 protects the right to life and personal liberty.
These constitutional principles have been reinforced through legislation. The Dowry Prohibition Act of 1961 criminalized the giving and taking of dowry. Provisions addressing cruelty by husbands and relatives were introduced to strengthen protection for women facing harassment. Laws dealing with dowry deaths created mechanisms for criminal accountability. The Protection of Women from Domestic Violence Act, 2005 expanded remedies available to victims, including protection orders, residence rights, maintenance, and access to legal support.
On paper, these protections appear comprehensive.
Yet the continued prevalence of dowry related violence demonstrates that laws alone cannot transform society.
One reason is underreporting. Many women never approach authorities. Fear, dependence, family pressure, and social stigma often discourage them from seeking help. Another reason is delay. Legal proceedings can take years. Investigations may be prolonged. Cases remain pending. For women already experiencing trauma, pursuing justice can become emotionally and financially exhausting.
Even when women decide to report abuse, they often encounter scepticism. They are asked how they will prove their claims. They are questioned about evidence. They are encouraged to reconcile. Sometimes families intervene not to protect the victim but to preserve the marriage.

The message many women receive is remarkably consistent.
Forgive.
Adjust.
Try again.
Save the marriage.
Rarely is the same urgency directed toward addressing the abuse itself.
This is one of the reasons why India’s low divorce rate requires closer examination. Often presented as evidence of strong family values, the figure is frequently celebrated without considering the social realities behind it. A low divorce rate does not automatically indicate healthy marriages. Sometimes it reflects the immense obstacles that prevent people, especially women, from leaving harmful relationships.
The ability to leave an abusive marriage should not be viewed as a failure. In many cases, it represents extraordinary courage.
Yet Indian society often struggles to accept this idea.

For generations, women have been taught that endurance is admirable. Sacrifice is praised. Compromise is glorified. Suffering is normalized. Divorce, meanwhile, is often treated as something shameful.
This cultural attitude creates dangerous consequences. Women remain in harmful situations because they fear judgment more than unhappiness. Families encourage patience even when warning signs are obvious. Communities prioritize appearances over wellbeing.
As a result, intervention often comes too late.
Another troubling pattern emerges whenever women become victims of violence. Public conversations frequently shift away from examining what happened to the woman and begin focusing on who the woman was.
Questions arise about her mental health.
Questions arise about her behaviour.
Questions arise about her decisions.
Questions arise about her character.
Instead of investigating the circumstances that may have contributed to her suffering, attention often turns toward finding flaws in the victim herself.

This pattern is not unique to any single case. It reflects a broader tendency within society to place responsibility on women rather than on the systems and relationships that may have harmed them. For many women, this possibility creates an additional layer of fear.
The fear is not only about experiencing abuse.
It is also about not being believed.
It is about being judged for speaking.
It is about being blamed for leaving.
And sometimes, it is about being blamed even after death.
Against this backdrop, conversations about financial literacy acquire a significance that extends far beyond economics.
Many people think financial literacy is simply about understanding investments, taxes, insurance policies, mutual funds, or retirement planning. These are certainly important aspects. However, financial literacy is also about security. It is about agency. It is about knowing how to make decisions that affect one’s future.
For women, financial literacy can become a form of protection.
A financially aware woman is more likely to recognize financial abuse. She is more likely to understand her legal rights. She is more likely to maintain personal savings and emergency resources. She is more likely to participate in financial planning. Most importantly, she is more likely to possess the confidence required to make independent decisions.
This does not mean that financial literacy alone can eliminate violence or discrimination. Social problems rarely have simple solutions. But financial knowledge can reduce vulnerability. It can create options where none previously existed.
Research across the world consistently demonstrates that women who control financial resources invest heavily in education, healthcare, nutrition, and long term family wellbeing. Their economic participation benefits not only themselves but also their families and communities.
Yet many girls continue to grow up hearing messages that reinforce dependence.
Money is often described as the man’s responsibility.
Property is frequently associated with sons rather than daughters.
Financial decisions are left to fathers, brothers, and husbands.
Girls are encouraged to excel academically but are not always encouraged to understand wealth creation, investments, ownership, or financial planning.
These seemingly small differences accumulate over time.
By adulthood, many women have developed professional skills but lack confidence in financial matters. They may earn money without fully understanding how to manage it. They may contribute to households without building assets in their own names. They may work for years without creating independent financial security.
This vulnerability becomes painfully visible during periods of crisis.

Women who lack savings, assets, or financial knowledge often face greater difficulty leaving abusive relationships. The decision becomes more than an emotional challenge. It becomes a question of survival.
Where will I live?
How will I support myself?
How will I care for my children?
How will I pay legal expenses?
These questions can trap women in situations they desperately want to escape.
For this reason, many experts argue that financial literacy should be taught as a fundamental life skill. Children learn mathematics, science, literature, and history. Yet many graduate from school without understanding savings, budgeting, investments, property rights, taxation, or financial planning.
This gap affects everyone, but its consequences are often particularly severe for women.
Real change must begin early.
Schools should teach financial literacy alongside civic education. Children should learn about equality, rights, responsibilities, and economic independence. Textbooks should present women not merely as caregivers but also as leaders, entrepreneurs, investors, professionals, and decision makers.
Families must also participate in this transformation.
Parents who genuinely wish to empower their daughters must look beyond academic achievement alone. Education is essential, but financial confidence is equally important. Girls should be encouraged to understand banking, investments, budgeting, and ownership from an early age. They should see women participating actively in financial decisions within their households.
The fight against dowry does not begin at the wedding. It begins years earlier.
It begins when daughters are taught that their worth is not measured by marriage.
It begins when sons are taught that marriage is a partnership rather than a transaction.
It begins when families reject social expectations that treat women as financial liabilities.
It begins when communities stop equating family honour with a woman’s willingness to suffer silently.
And it begins when society understands that dignity, equality, and freedom must matter more than appearances.

India’s journey toward development cannot be measured solely through economic growth. Gross domestic product may increase. Infrastructure may expand. Technology may advance. But a nation cannot call itself truly developed while thousands of women continue to lose their lives because of systems that value tradition over dignity and silence over justice.
Every dowry death represents more than an individual tragedy. It reflects collective failures. It exposes the persistence of patriarchy, the commercialization of marriage, the weakness of support systems, and the distance that still exists between constitutional ideals and everyday realities.
The challenge before India is therefore not simply to strengthen laws. It is to transform mindsets.
Because until marriage is understood as a partnership based on dignity, equality, consent, and mutual respect, the cycle will continue.
Women will continue questioning whether their pain matters.Families will continue losing daughters.
And behind countless closed doors, many will continue searching for words to describe what they feel.
For some, that feeling may take many forms. For others, it may fit into a single word.
Trapped.
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