“Our girl is gone… no voice comes out of her mouth… she remains scared,” Tvisha Sharma’s relatives joke as the newlywed waits for her husband after the “kanyadaan”. It’s the kind of familiar “girly” humor heard at countless Indian weddings – a performative assurance to the groom’s family that their daughter is soft-spoken, accommodating and, above all, not troublesome. Tvisha smiles and plays along. Little did they know that these words would come back to haunt them months later, when the silence they had laughed at became permanent. Samarth Singh wanted more cash. Hrithik Nagar was not happy with the car and cash he already got, so he wanted a better car and more cash. Ompal also wanted more cash. Ankur Chaudhary was not happy with bullets, cash and gold, he wanted more.Tvisha, Deepika, Pushpendri, Kajal and thousands of other women allegedly died at the hands of men who wanted marriage more than a partner. At least, that’s what his family and the FIR claim. And the one thing that remained common in all these cases was the constant abuse and cries for help.So why do so many women stay in marriages they fear? Why do families continue to negotiate with violent families instead of breaking up? At what point does “adjustment” become abandonment? And why, even now, are women expected to survive marriage so long only for someone else to eventually decide they’re worth saving?
anatomy of a dowry death
Dowry deaths are often reported as the final act – a woman found hanged, burnt, poisoned or dead under “suspicious circumstances”. But experts say the real violence begins long before death.“It starts with emotional abuse, financial pressure and social isolation within the marriage,” says Aditi Verma, a lawyer who has handled many dowry and domestic violence cases. “Soon after marriage, trivial demands start coming from the husband and in-laws. Violence gradually escalates through cycles of oppression, reconciliation, and renewed abuse.According to Verma, this pattern is troubling in all cases, regardless of class or education. Women are controlled, monitored and constantly criticized. In many cases, in-laws impose strict behavioral expectations and also humiliate the woman for failing to meet them.Sometimes the abuse becomes extremely personal. In the case of Twisha Sharma, the allegations made by her family and included in the investigation show that allegations were made against her regarding her character and alleged extramarital affairs.“What is particularly disturbing is how normalized abuse has become in the marital home. Women are repeatedly asked to adjust, compromise or keep quiet in order to protect the family’s reputation,” Verma says.This normalization often delays intervention until violence has escalated irreversibly.
asks for help before dying
Hours before her death, Deepika Nagar called her father crying and told him that she was being assaulted again over dowry demands. Her family went to her marital home in hopes of calming the situation. Later that night, he received another call: Deepika had reportedly fallen from the terrace.19 year old Pushpendri Devi had also called home before she died.According to his family, he told his father, “Papa, they will kill me.”Before he could reach her, she was dead.and then he came Kajal Chaudhary – The SWAT commando was allegedly murdered by her husband with a dumbbell earlier this year.“I am killing your sister,” the deceased’s brother recalled saying over the phone as Kajal screamed in the background. The call got disconnected after some time.Tvisha Sharma was also reportedly contacting her family about the ill-treatment she faced before her death.What connects these women is not just the allegation of dowry harassment, but the fact that they attempted to be informed about the danger before the fatal moment arrived. Parents were informed. Relatives intervened. The families tried mediation. But the abuse continued.Lawyer Aditi Verma says that these warning signs are common in dowry death cases.“Before death, there are often warning signs such as repeated distress calls to parents, prior complaints, threats of suicide, prior attempts to leave, unexplained injuries, or statements such as ‘They won’t let me live in peace,'” she says.The tragedy, she says, is that these signs are often treated as routine marital conflict rather than indicators of escalating violence.
why women live
The question that arises after almost every dowry murder is very simple – why didn’t she go away?But experts say women often stay in abusive marriages, not because they fail to recognize the violence, but because leaving comes with its own social punishment.“One of the most heartbreaking patterns is when women understand the abuse, know the legal remedies available to them, and yet return because they feel they have nowhere else to go,” Verma says.The sentence that sticks most in his mind is painfully familiar: “I know it’s wrong, but if I leave, everyone will blame me, not him.”Dr Sapere Rohit, consultant psychiatrist at Sparsh Hospital, Bengaluru, says that “hope” inside abusive marriages often survives through temporary affection, forgiveness and promises of change.“Many women believe things will get better because marriage in India is deeply linked to family honour, children and social acceptance,” he says. “They are taught that relationships can be repaired with patience and sacrifice.”That emotional conditioning begins long before the abuse.Women are socialized to secure a marriage, tolerate discomfort, and prioritize family stability over personal safety. Parents, often unknowingly, reinforce that expectation.“Yes, many parents unknowingly put pressure on daughters to stay in unsafe marriages,” says Rohit. “Advice such as ‘adjust’, ‘every marriage has problems’, or ‘think about the children’ are often given with concern rather than harmful intent. However, this can leave women feeling unsupported and trapped.”
That pressure cuts across the classroom.
Tvisha Sharma was educated, professionally accomplished and socially distinguished. Deepika Nagar came from a financially strong family. Yet the two reportedly remained in a marriage their families say had already become abusive.“Even highly educated and financially independent women continue to suffer abuse due to emotional conditioning, fear of stigma, concerns about children or pressure to maintain the marriage at all costs,” says Verma.Divided by class, united by abuseOne of the most prevalent myths about dowry violence is that it pertains only to rural or economically marginal areas.The cases of Twisha, Deepika and others complicate that notion.Tvisha’s marriage took place in a legally prestigious family of Bhopal. Her husband was a lawyer, her mother-in-law a retired district judge. Deepika’s marriage represents upward social mobility among economically stable families. In these cases the alleged abuse arose not from social invisibility, but from an environment associated with status, education, and respect.“As a lawyer, I have noticed that abuse today is not always visible in the traditional sense,” says Verma. “In many educated and economically stable families, the violence is psychological – isolation, threats, manipulation, surveillance and sustained emotional degradation.”Rohit says the emotional cost of being considered a “good wife” in India is very high.“Many women are expected to prioritize family stability over their own emotional well-being,” she says. “Society often praises women for enduring suffering rather than encouraging healthy relationships.”Over time, that conditioning reshapes women’s understanding of abuse.“Continued abuse often makes them feel guilty, inadequate, or responsible for the breakdown of the relationship, even if they are the victims,” Verma says.
What do the statistics tell?
The scale of the crisis extends far beyond individual cases.According to NCRB’s Crime in India 2024 report, India recorded 5,737 dowry deaths last year – an average of about 16 women every day.Uttar Pradesh reported the highest number of cases at 2,038, followed by Bihar at 1,078. Madhya Pradesh reported 450 cases, Rajasthan 386 and West Bengal 337. Among metropolitan cities, Delhi recorded the highest number of cases at 111.But the numbers reveal much more than prevalence. They highlight the persistence of dowry in changing social realities.Dowry did not end with urbanization. Dowry did not end with education. Economic mobility did not eliminate dowry. Instead, dowry adapted itself to aspiration and situation.The demands became more expensive.
waiting to be rescued
What the statistics don’t fully capture is the emotional makeup of these marriages – the waiting, the bargaining, the hope that things will improve before they turn fatal.Women wait to change husbands. Families wait for the tension to end. Parents wait for the “right time” to intervene more forcefully. Society waits until violence becomes impossible to deny.And by then it is often too late.“Many women continue to stay in abusive marriages, not because they don’t recognize the abuse,” Verma says, “but because they fear being blamed for leaving the marriage more than the violence itself.”Perhaps that’s what makes these deaths particularly horrifying: Most of these women did not die quietly. He said. He warned. He asked for help. But somewhere between social standing, family honor, fear of stigma, and the endless pressure to “adjust,” their warnings became assimilated into the normal rhythms of marriage – until it became impossible to escape. A few days before her death, Tvisha Sharma reportedly summarized that entrapment in a message that would later sound like a warning against the institution:“I’m stuck brother. Just don’t get stuck.”
