Even as society celebrates modernity, one ancient practice continues to ruin lives. Dowry demands are rising, not fading — and the human cost is becoming impossible to ignore.
By Saba Saleem
Modern life loves to advertise its progress, but if you scratch beneath the glossy surface, some of our oldest and ugliest social habits remain stubbornly intact. The dowry system is one of them — a tradition ancient in origin yet disturbingly persistent, evolving rather than disappearing. Even as people adopt the language and lifestyle of modernity, many continue to cling to this system with remarkable loyalty, often mistaking its continuation as a symbol of status or progress. Instead of fading, dowry culture is mutating, becoming sharper, more transactional, and more suffocating.
Religious teachings, especially within Islam, leave no ambiguity on the subject. The Quran clearly outlines the concept of mahr — a gift from husband to wife, freely given, without conditions or limits. Surah An-Nisa (4:4) opens with the instruction to “give the women their due dowries graciously,” emphasizing generosity, autonomy, and respect. Yet many families flip this teaching upside down, demanding material goods, money, and property from the bride’s family as though it’s a rightful entitlement. What Islam frames as the wife’s right has quietly been turned into society’s expectation from her family. And the hypocrisy is often most stark among the supposedly educated and economically secure — the very people expected to lead by example.
The idea that a girl’s worth is measured by what she brings into a marriage is not just morally grotesque; it is socially corrosive. Families unable to meet such demands are branded as “inferior,” their daughters judged not by character or aspirations but by their parents’ financial limitations. This is how a practice becomes a trap. Poor families work day and night to save for their daughters’ marriages, often compromising their own basic needs. It has created a silent havoc — a culture where parents fear their daughter’s wedding more than her future.
In Kashmir, the weight of dowry has grown heavier with time. As living costs rise, expectations rise alongside them, making marriages increasingly burdensome. In some communities, the pressure is so intense that young women begin to see marriage not as a beginning but as a looming threat, a space where financial demands may morph into domestic cruelty. The link between dowry and suicide is not abstract; it shows up in newsrooms, police records, and whispered neighbourhood stories.
India’s statistics tell a chilling story. Nearly 6,800 dowry deaths were reported in 2021 alone. Between 2017 and 2021, 35,493 women died because of dowry-related violence — about 20 lives lost every single day. Uttar Pradesh averaged six dowry deaths a day during this period. These numbers don’t represent distant strangers; they speak of daughters, sisters, mothers — women whose lives were squeezed between expectation and abuse. Kashmir has seen its share of tragedies as well, many of them quietly buried within families to avoid shame or legal entanglements.
One case that shook the country in 2021 was that of 23-year-old Ayesha Bano from Ahmedabad. Before jumping into the Sabarmati River, she recorded a brief message — a soft, heart-breaking plea that reflected not hopelessness but exhaustion. Her words still haunt many who remember watching that video. Ayesha’s case wasn’t the first, nor the last. Kashmir’s newspapers have carried similar stories — young mothers ending their lives because dowry taunts became unbearable. When a woman hears the same insults day after day, when she is told she hasn’t brought “enough,” when her worth is reduced to household items or cash, something inside her begins to collapse. And in that collapse, children are left orphaned, parents shattered, families destroyed.
Laws exist, of course. The Dowry Prohibition Act of 1961 criminalizes demanding or giving dowry. Under Section 304B of the Indian Penal Code, dowry death is punishable with a minimum of seven years in prison, extendable to life. But laws cannot repair a society that refuses to confront its own failures. Many families disguise their demands, framing them as “gifts” or “tradition,” and even when they promise not to take dowry, the harassment begins quietly after marriage — emotional manipulation, isolation, financial pressure, and in many cases, outright violence.
One of the most devastating consequences is how dowry culture shapes decisions long before marriage. Families with multiple daughters live in fear, calculating how they will navigate future expectations. Parents feel pressured to spend extravagantly on weddings to avoid social ridicule, even if this means incurring lifelong debt. Ironically, the same relatives who praise lavish weddings often participate in harassing daughters-in-law for not bringing enough material wealth. It is a cycle that feeds on hypocrisy, pride, and silence.
And silence may be the most dangerous part. Society often chooses to look away, pretending dowry-related abuse is a “family matter.” People avoid confronting relatives who demand dowry, rationalizing it as an old habit or “just how things are done.” Progress isn’t hindered because oppressive traditions exist; it is hindered because people accept them under the guise of respecting culture. The burden ultimately falls on young women, whose mental health deteriorates under unrelenting pressure. Depression, anxiety, and suicidal tendencies grow in the shadows of these demands, unnoticed or dismissed until it’s too late.
But the picture is not entirely bleak. There are families — many of them — who have rejected dowry openly and proudly. Their stand isn’t small; it is a radical act in a society where tradition often outweighs morality. These families prove that dignity and compassion can take precedence over social expectations. They remind us that reform is possible, but only when silence breaks.
It is long past time for society to acknowledge the psychological violence inflicted by dowry culture. Every individual carries a responsibility to challenge it — within families, neighbourhoods, and conversations. Creating awareness isn’t optional anymore; it’s a matter of saving lives. The dowry system doesn’t just exploit poor families — it diminishes women, corrodes marriages, and stains communities.
The question isn’t why this system exists. The question is why we still tolerate it.
The views expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions or views of this Magazine. The author can be reached at [email protected]
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