Explainer: A scooter in 1970s, Rs 36 lakh now, how dowry’s tied in knots

A scooter, a television, and a refrigerator — that was the cost of Shashi Bala’s life in India in the late ’70s. The 20-year-old, six months pregnant and barely a year into her marriage, was set ablaze in her Delhi home in 1979. Her mother, Satya Rani Chadha, had managed to give a refrigerator and part payment for a television, but could not arrange the scooter her son-in-law demanded. Two days later, her daughter was dead.

For most, such tragedies become statistics. For Satya Rani, it became a lifelong battle. She walked the corridors of courts for 34 years, challenging police apathy, loopholes in the Dowry Prohibition Act, and a justice system that took decades to even recognise her daughter’s death as a crime. Only in 2013 did the courts finally uphold the conviction of Shashi Bala’s husband — not for murder, but for abetment of suicide.

Her fight laid the foundation for India’s anti-dowry movement in the 1980s. Yet, 45 years later, her story still echoes in countless homes.

On August 21 this year, in Greater Noida, 26-year-old Nikki Bhati met a similar fate. Married into a family that already possessed a Scorpio SUV, a motorcycle and gold ornaments, she was allegedly tortured for an additional dowry of Rs 36 lakh. Days before her death, her sister filmed her being dragged by the hair, beaten, and threatened in full view of her young son. Soon after, Nikki was engulfed in flames.

Her husband, Vipin Bhati, and his family are now in custody. But like so many dowry cases before, her last words complicate the case — in hospital, Nikki reportedly told doctors her injuries were caused by a cylinder blast, not violence. Police suspect she may have been pressured into silence, echoing a tragic pattern of women protecting their abusers, even on their deathbeds.

The contradictions and legal tussles may take years to untangle. But the parallels are stark: one woman in 1979, another in 2025, both lost to a practice the law banned more than six decades ago.

According to the National Crime Records Bureau, India recorded 6,450 dowry-related deaths in 2022 — roughly 18 every single day. Between 2017 and 2022, the number rarely dipped below 7,000 a year.

Despite provisions in the Dowry Prohibition Act and Section 304B of the Indian Penal Code prescribing life imprisonment for dowry deaths, conviction rates remain abysmally low. Investigations are often shoddy, cases drag for decades, and the burden of proof is so high that many families give up long before the courts deliver a verdict.

Legal experts warn that without stronger witness protection, faster trials, and accountability for police lapses, the law will remain toothless. While thousands of genuine victims struggle for justice, courts have also noted the problem of false or exaggerated dowry complaints.

In 2014, the Supreme Court warned that Section 498A of the IPC, meant to protect women from cruelty by husbands and in-laws, was being misused in some instances to settle personal scores. States were told to set up “family welfare committees” to screen cases before arrests.

Supreme Court advocate Rudra Vikram Singh says while India has strict provisions to protect women from harassment, over the years some cases have seen these laws being used to unfairly target innocent husbands and their families. “If these laws are to be enforced meaningfully, we must also tackle the root causes of dowry — societal pressure and status symbols. I have seen cases where gifts exchanged in goodwill during a marriage were treated as dowry during disputes. The distinction between voluntary gifts and dowry must be made much clearer to complainants, the accused and even the prosecution,” he said.

Women’s rights activists, too, argue that beyond the courts, the deeper battle lies within society — in dismantling the belief that a woman’s worth is still measured in material goods.

Shalini Shrinet, women’s rights activist and founder of Mera Rang Foundation, says that marriage should be a place of dignity and support, not exploitation. “A bride should never be harassed for dowry. If she falters, guide her; if she lacks skills, teach her — but don’t abuse her,” she says. She adds that if a woman raises a complaint of harassment, strict action must follow.

For Satya Rani, dowry claimed her only daughter. For Nikki’s mother, the fight has only just begun. Their stories are separated by decades but joined by grief — and by a question India still struggles to answer: how many more women must burn before dowry dies?