Jun 15, 2025 07:10 IST
First published on: Jun 15, 2025 at 07:10 IST
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Sonam Raghuvanshi once had dreams of getting an MBA degree, and expanding her father’s plywood business. In the bylanes of Indore’s Kushwah Nagar where, in her father’s words, her movements and interactions were “strictly curbed”, she would only make it so far as the Kushwaha community’s matrimonial directory. The Samaj Parichay Pustika was a time-tested way to form marriage alliances, ensuring one remained “safely” and assuredly within own community.
Six months after Sonam’s biodata was added to the directory by her family, barely snatches remain of that 24-year-old, who now has only one identity, of “the woman who killed her husband on their honeymoon”. Worse, she did it due to “an affair with a younger man”. Even worse, “the families didn’t match her horoscope” with the man she would go on to marry — a man she barely knew except as a “compatible” matrimonial biodata.
Police are still building their case, but Sonam’s brother, chased by media cameras, has declared he has little doubt “she did it”. Her mother-in-law and the mother of her “lover” have been pitted on national television against each other, talking about their sons and united in their censure of Sonam; the “lover’s” school-going sisters have been captured too, their “breaking down” and “fainting” played on repeat.
Year after year, the National Crime Records Bureau registers “love affairs” as the fastest rising cause for murder in India, and top third among all reasons. That includes “honour killings”, one of the roads down which choices of many women end. However, it would appear Sonam has gone where no man — or, should it be, woman? — has gone before.
Speaking to news agency UNI last week, Dr Naresh Purohit, who is attached with the National Mental Health Programme, said that a surge in spousal murders reflects “deeper societal issues where forced marriages and inability to express views about relationship choices can lead to violent outcomes”.
However, they tell us that all Sonam should have done under the circumstances is “walk away”.
Meghalaya’s famous root bridge near where Sonam allegedly carried out the murder is a place bustling with tourists, with shops having sprung up selling snacks to knick-knacks, run mostly by women. A girl belonging perhaps to bylanes no wider than where Sonam grew up can often surprise you with a perfect rendition of an English pop song.
Wonder what Sonam, presumably frustrated with her marriage, presumably contemplating a new start, thought of that girl.
Maybe in another lifetime, Sonam could have left home in the few months between when her groom was chosen for her and the marriage festivities started. Maybe, her family would have accepted the younger man she is said to have loved, who was their employee and much lower in social standing. Maybe she and the man could then have been one of those couples taking selfies on the root bridge, ignoring calls to move on by guards worried about the safety of the ancient structure.
However, how many of us would bet on this parallel lifeline for Sonam?
And yet, we are a country that lives and breathes parallel lifelines. In one such lifeline, not too long ago, two women were the face of India’s efforts against a warring neighbour, as the government celebrated its ‘Operation Sindoor’ as a “tribute to all women, daughters, sisters”.
But even before the dust had settled, from within the ruling establishment came questions about why the women who survived the Pahalgam terror attack had not fought back for their “sindoor”. An appeal for peace by one of those women drew a swift backlash.
Across these very different lifelines, one thing is common: a woman can thrive all she wants, as long as she sticks to the course drawn for her by others.
National Editor Shalini Langer curates the fortnightly ‘She Said’ column
