Gender inequality, ignorance, and stark differences in social assistance, healthcare, and law enforcement are not isolated problems. Rather, they are ingrained in the fabric of a country that takes pride in being the “fourth-most equal” in the world. In this land of near-perfect equality, it appears the benefits are selectively distributed. For many, equality remains a promise on paper, while they continue to wade through chaos, injustice, and indifference.
Between April and July 2025, a troubling trend reemerged in Bihar, Jharkhand, and Madhya Pradesh: Tribal men and women were brutally murdered or maimed on suspicion of practising witchcraft.
A mob in Tetgama village of Purnia district assaulted and burnt alive five members of a tribal family, including three women, when the 16-year-old boy allegedly named his own mother as the witch. Three months ago, a 60-year-old indigenous woman in Rohtas suffered a similar fate. There are reports of women being strangled, and abandoned in jungles in the Khunti and East Singhbhum regions of Jharkhand because they were made scapegoats, blamed for someone’s sickness. In another recent incident in Umaria, Madhya Pradesh, on July 7, a tribal man was almost killed by physical assault by neighbours who believed he had used demonic powers to call out disease.
Assam, Bihar, Chhattisgarh, Gujarat, Haryana, Jharkhand, Madhya Pradesh, Maharashtra, Odisha, Rajasthan, Uttar Pradesh, and West Bengal are the 12 states in India where witch hunting is most common. According to NCRB data, more than 2,500 individuals, mostly women, were slain nationwide between 2000 and 2016 on suspicion of practising witchcraft. These are the ones that, following intense pressure or public outcry, made it into police logs. It’s hard to say how many more were unreported, unrecognised, or silently buried due to institutional indifference, shame, or terror. Research conducted by Action Aid showed that in 12 districts of Odisha, in 27 per cent of witch-branding incidents, the victims were accused of causing health problems affecting children, 43.5 per cent of causing health problems affecting an adult family member, 24.5 per cent of bad luck or land grabbing, and five per cent held responsible for crop failure.
Ojhas are traditional healers or sorcerers found mainly in rural parts of India, especially in states like Madhya Pradesh, Bihar, Jharkhand, and Odisha. Often called witch doctors, they claim to possess supernatural powers to identify witches or evil spirits believed to cause illness, misfortune, or crop failure. Ojhas perform rituals and demand offerings such as goats, chickens, or alcohol from villagers in exchange for their services. Once someone is identified as a witch by ojhas, they often face severe social stigma and mistreatment. This can include public humiliation, such as being paraded naked through the village or subjected to degrading acts like being forced to eat human faeces. Unfortunately, such situations sometimes escalate to violence, including physical assault or victims being killed and burning alive.
Witch-hunting may appear, on the surface, to be a matter of superstition, but it reflects a much deeper and more complex socio-economic crisis. The districts and states where such incidents are most prevalent — such as parts of Bihar, Jharkhand, Chhattisgarh, and Madhya Pradesh — are often marked by acute poverty, poor education levels, inadequate healthcare, and weak law enforcement. Despite the existence of anti-witch-hunting laws like the Witch-Hunting (Prohibition, Prevention and Protection) Act of 2013 in some states, implementation remains patchy and ineffective.
Public health systems in these regions are either absent or severely under-resourced, forcing people to turn to private healthcare, which demands high out-of-pocket expenditure that many cannot afford. This creates fertile ground for fear, misinformation, and scapegoating. In many rural and tribal areas, the cycle of poverty is greatly exacerbated by restricted work possibilities and a lack of access to primary and high-quality education. Communities that have limited opportunities for social or economic advancement frequently turn to traditional belief systems to explain disease, conflict, or bad luck. Ojhas, or local witch doctors or faith healers, have a significant amount of power in these settings. In times of need, people resort to them for answers or explanations, which frequently involve identifying a so-called witch. Moreover, witch-hunting is not just about belief — it is also deeply gendered. Women who resist patriarchal control, assert their rights to property, or push back against sexual advances by powerful men are often targeted.
This dependency on superstition is not just a cultural issue but a symptom of systemic neglect. The absence of awareness, scientific understanding, and basic services traps communities in cycles of fear and blame. Tragically, it is often women — especially those who are independent, elderly, or outspoken — who are branded as witches. Thus, the vicious cycle continues: Poverty breeds superstition, superstition fuels witch-hunting, and witch-hunting reinforces social inequality and fear.
Ending the cycle of witch-hunting takes more than simply written restrictions; it also necessitates empathy in policy, education in every household, and respect for all women. As long as poverty prevails (despite the World Bank’s report on India’s position on equality), and gender equality remains a distant objective, superstition will fill the void. Women stigmatised as witches are victims not just of superstition, but also of terrible disparities and a system that fails to protect the poor and vulnerable. It is time to shift the narrative — from fear to understanding, silence to justice — so that no woman is harassed just for existing.
The writer is assistant professor, Department of Economics, Dr B R Ambedkar College, University of Delhi
