An Inconvenient Truth

It happened 4 years back- when I was big enough to understand things but not old enough to have opinions worth listening to. I had gone to attend my cousin sister's marriage in my native place in Bihar. (Before you scrunch your face, our families are highly educated and respected, and as you can read, I'm good enough at English.) As the house was bathed in celebrations, the women discussing which sarees to wear, and the men concerned about what to put on the menu. I spent most of the days on the terrace, away from the noise, too fascinated by the open spaces I didn't see back in Delhi. A week before the marriage, however, the entire festive spirit faded away.

The groom's side had increased the demand for dowry at the last minute. Everyone went into a frenzy. My cousin's father had passed away two years back and there wasn't an earning member. The rest of the family, along with my grandfather, put their heads together in order to find a solution. Numerous attempts at negotiations were made, only to give in in the end, as the bride's side always does. In my head, I was already making stories of how to tackle the "bad side" with totally unrealistic ways. As all savings were put together, fixed deposits broken, nobody seemed happy at all. I couldn't understand how a marriage could be built around this strong sense of repulsion. I went to my mother and asked why we couldn't we simply say no. Dowry was illegal, all of us knew that. What my mother replied shook me. We couldn't say no because the same situation would be repeated with the next prospect and the next. Moreover, time was ticking bomb. My cousin was 29, already beyond the age considered right for girls of "respectable families" to get married. To add to the problem, she wasn't really known for her beauty, which is judged by complexion. Her younger sister was waiting in line to be married next. It was a bitter reality we had to accept, a reality that had existed in previous generations and will continue to do so in coming ones.

Before the day of the wedding, all the items for dowry had to be packed and sent to the groom's house. Before being loaded on the truck, they were laid out in full view, for the neighbouring ladies to come and scrutinise. They approved. Our status in society was intact. Music blared from loudspeakers, celebrations began again.

I write this not to present a grim picture, but only to shatter the myth that dowry is a thing of the past. Neither is it an obsolete practice, nor confined to any region or class. The societal pressures and stereotypes exist despite education. (The groom was a journalist, if that makes you feel worse.) 24,771 dowry deaths have been reported in the last 3 years.