Indian families though glorified are the most violent institutions

 

Indian families, though often glorified, can be among the most violent institutions when it comes to the treatment of women. This truth emerges from my own experiences and in conversations with women who have sought justice in courts, sharing their everyday realities. While Indian families are romanticized in Bollywood films, on television, and across various media platforms, the reality of life within these family structures is far from idyllic for many women.

In fact, families are often where the roots of violence and discrimination against women take hold—long before they are even born. The pervasive issue of female foeticide and infanticide begins in the very homes where female fetuses are aborted or newborn girls are killed. The skewed sex ratio in India stands as a grim reminder of this systemic violence, underscoring the brutal preference for male children.

Even if girls manage to survive these early years, they are still subjected to discrimination within the family. They are often denied access to basic necessities like food, health care, and education. In many households, resources are disproportionately allocated to boys, ensuring that girls are left behind in terms of nutrition and opportunities for growth. This neglect affects their physical and emotional development and limits their future career prospects.

Moreover, from an early age, girls are conditioned to view their natal homes as temporary. They are taught that their primary purpose is to get married and move out of their parents' home, as if their existence and worth are secondary to the needs of the family they will marry into. This mentality reinforces the idea that women have no permanent place in the family they are born into, while men are expected to inherit and stay within their family structures.

The discrimination extends into economic resources as well. Property rights are a glaring example of how women are systematically denied access to the wealth and resources that are often reserved for male members of the family. In many parts of India, women still struggle to claim their rightful share of inheritance, even when the law explicitly grants them such rights.

Violence within the family is another harsh reality that many women face. Dowry violence, domestic violence, and even incest are forms of abuse that occur in the so-called "safe" space of the home. Wives and daughters-in-law are often treated as outsiders, no matter how many years they dedicate to serving their husbands and in-laws. Their emotional and physical well-being is disregarded, and their contributions to the family are undervalued.

Furthermore, the cultural rituals, customs, and traditions that are celebrated as part of Indian family life often work to the detriment of women and girls. From early childhood to marriage and beyond, girls are expected to conform to an ideal of self-sacrifice and submission. The pressure to adhere to these norms can be stifling, and the consequences of resisting are severe, ranging from social ostracism to physical and emotional abuse.

Despite all of this, the narrative remains that the family is a place of safety, warmth, and comfort. This myth is perpetuated by a society that is largely blind to the violence and discrimination that occur behind closed doors. The comfort and safety of family life are often reserved for men, while women are left to endure hardship and injustice in silence.

The reality is that for many women, the family is not a place of love or refuge but a system that perpetuates their oppression. The glorification of Indian families in the media only serves to obscure this truth, perpetuating a dangerous narrative that women’s suffering is invisible and unimportant. Until we confront and address these deep-seated issues within the family structure, we cannot hope to achieve true gender equality in Indian society.

It’s My Life — And I Know Best How to Live It

 

It’s My Life — And I Know Best How to Live It

There was a time in my life when everything seemed to be falling apart. I was in a dark, difficult place—emotionally, mentally, and even physically. It felt like I was drowning in pain no one could see, and certainly, no one could understand.

During that time, someone suggested I take the Art of Living course. Their intention, I’m sure, was to help. But the moment I heard it, I felt a wave of resistance rise up in me.

How could anyone else possibly tell me how to live my life?

My pain was unique. My circumstances were layered. No one knew the full story—what I had endured, what I was feeling, or what it truly meant to carry the weight I was carrying. No one saw my inner strength, my quiet resilience, or the flickers of hope I still held onto. So how could someone—no matter how well-meaning—offer a one-size-fits-all solution to something so deeply personal?

The truth is, advice often comes easily from the outside. But living through trauma, healing, and growth? That’s an inside job.

I chose not to follow that suggestion. Not out of arrogance, but out of self-trust. I decided to turn inward instead of outward. I wanted to find my own way of healing—one that honored my story, my pace, and my truth.

So I stopped chasing external guidance. I stopped listening to voices that claimed to know what was best for me. And instead, I listened to the quiet, persistent voice inside me—the one that had been drowned out for too long. It wasn’t always easy, and it certainly wasn’t fast. But over time, that choice changed everything.

Today, I can say with confidence that I have not just recovered—I have grown, evolved, and begun to thrive. But what saddens me is how often I see others falling into the same trap: thinking someone else has the answers they’re looking for.

Here’s what I want to say to anyone who might feel lost or broken:
You are not a problem to be fixed by someone else. You are a human being capable of healing, in your own way and on your own terms.

Yes, support is important. Guidance can be helpful. But at the end of the day, only you can walk your path. Only you can truly know what you need. And only you can decide what kind of life you want to live.

So trust yourself.
Honor your journey.
And remember: it’s your life—and you know best how to live it.

TAKE A STAND. ACCEPT RESPONSIBILITY. RESIST.

 

TAKE A STAND. ACCEPT RESPONSIBILITY. RESIST.

Let’s not sugarcoat it — we’re living in an age of manufactured consent, weaponized lies, and systemic gaslighting.

Once, to stand with the truth was an act of moral clarity. Today, it’s a revolutionary act. Because in this neoliberal capitalist hellscape, truth isn’t just inconvenient — it’s dangerous. It threatens the polished veneers of power, the profit machines, the corporate empires, the bought-out politicians, and the puppet masters in the media.

The truth? It’s being slaughtered.

Every. Single. Day.

Sliced up, twisted into soundbites, buried beneath headlines designed to distract, distort, and dumb us down. It’s not a mistake — it’s the system working exactly as it was designed to. Injustice thrives because the truth is anesthetized, mocked, and sold back to us in the form of slogans and spectacle.

And those who dare to stand with it? They’re not praised — they’re punished. Silenced. Criminalized. Branded as “radical,” “extremist,” “unpatriotic,” or “naïve.” Activists are surveilled. Whistleblowers are exiled. Journalists are jailed. The ones who speak up are cast out, not because they’re wrong, but because they’re right — and that terrifies the establishment.

Courtrooms are corrupted. Laws are weaponized. The media is complicit. Justice is a performance, staged for those with power, while the rest of us are told to shut up, stay in line, and scroll.

So what do we do?

We refuse to comply. We refuse to be complicit. We refuse to be silent.

To stand with the truth today is to enter the fight. It means rejecting the illusion of neutrality — because neutrality in the face of oppression is betrayal. It means recognizing that we are all part of a system that profits off lies — and choosing to fight back anyway.

It’s time to accept responsibility. Not the individualistic kind sold to us by self-help gurus and billionaires pretending to be saviors, but collective responsibility. The kind that links our voices, our stories, and our struggles together in resistance.

Because the truth doesn’t need saviors — it needs accomplices.

So take a stand. Speak out. Organize. Uplift. Unlearn. Resist.

The truth is under attack.

Will you protect it — or pretend you never saw it bleeding?