Domestic Abuse and Kashmiri Society’s Complicity

Credit By: DR RUMAISA ADFAR

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• 09 Apr 2026

If we truly care about our daughters and sisters, we must be willing to stand with them even when it is socially inconvenient

VIOLENCE WE REFUSE TO SEE

Violence is most often spoken of in terms of gunfire and protests. What is rarely acknowledged with the same urgency is the violence that unfolds behind closed doors; in kitchens, bedrooms, and courtyards. Domestic violence in Kashmir is not an isolated set of ‘family disputes’; it is a pervasive public health and human rights crisis that is quietly scarring an entire generation.

Studies over the past decade have repeatedly underlined the depth of the problem. The National Family Health Survey (NFHS‑5) found that a significant proportion of married women in Jammu and Kashmir have experienced spousal violence at some point in their lives. Local surveys and the experience of counselling centres in Srinagar and other districts suggest that these figures may, in fact, be an underestimation. Many cases never leave the four walls of the home. They are managed through silence, compromise, and social pressure on women to ‘adjust’ at any cost.

The forms of abuse are not confined to visible bruises. They include psychological humiliation, economic deprivation, restrictions on mobility, threats involving children, and pressures related to dowry and inheritance. Because much of this violence does not leave obvious marks, it is easier for families and communities to deny it, or to dismiss it as a ‘normal’ part of married life. The normalisation of a wife being slapped during an argument, or a daughter‑in‑law being abused for not bringing enough dowry, is precisely what allows the problem to persist.

Any honest conversation about domestic violence in the Valley has to confront the wider context in which Kashmiri families live. In the past, men and women alike have grown up amid loss, fear, and instability. Unemployment remains high; drug abuse and depression are on the rise; social expectations on men as providers remain rigid even as economic opportunities shrink.

Domestic violence is rooted in unequal power relations between men and women, and in patriarchal ideas that place women in a subordinate role. These ideas are sustained at multiple levels  in how sons and daughters are raised, in jokes and casual comments that belittle women, in how families treat married daughters who wish to return after abuse, and even in religious or cultural arguments selectively used to silence women while ignoring the broader ethical messages of justice and compassion.

The legal protections that do exist are often poorly understood and unevenly enforced. The Protection of Women from Domestic Violence Act (PWDVA), 2005  extended to Jammu and Kashmir after the constitutional changes of 2019,  provides civil reliefs such as protection orders, residence orders, maintenance, and custody arrangements.

In theory, it is a powerful instrument: it recognises a broad range of abuse and seeks to support women without necessarily breaking the family. In practice, most survivors in the Valley do not know their rights, do not know how to approach protection officers or the courts, and are afraid of the social backlash if they do so.

Police stations, too, are not always safe spaces. Women who gather the courage to report violence may be advised to ‘go back and reconcile’. Some are made to feel responsible for the abuse: told to be more patient, more obedient, more accommodating. This attitude not only discourages complaints but sends a dangerous message to abusers that there will be little consequence for their actions. When the system trivialises domestic violence as a ‘private matter’, it participates in the violence itself.

At the local level, religious and social leaders have enormous influence  and with it, a profound responsibility. Friday sermons and civil society gatherings can either reinforce patriarchal control or challenge it. There is nothing in Islam, or in our cultural traditions, that justifies cruelty inside the home. On the contrary, our faith and our history are replete with examples that emphasise kindness, mutual respect and the moral equality of human beings. When an entire society tolerates or explains away domestic abuse, it is not faith that is being honoured, but power.

Addressing domestic violence in Kashmir therefore requires more than occasional outrage after a particularly shocking incident. It demands a sustained, multi‑layered response. We must strengthen and publicise support systems. Every district should have functional, well‑resourced One‑Stop Centres where survivors can access medical care, counselling, legal aid and temporary shelter under one roof. These centres must be staffed by trained professionals who understand both the law and the specific social context of the Valley. A 24×7, widely advertised helpline with guaranteed confidentiality could be a lifeline for women who cannot speak openly at home.

Law enforcement needs gender‑sensitive training and clear protocols. Domestic violence complaints should not be treated as inconvenient ‘family issues’, but as serious offences with consequences. Protection officers and police must coordinate so that protection orders are actually implemented, not just issued on paper. Fast‑track mechanisms for urgent cases especially where there is risk to life  are essential.

We  also need to invest in prevention, not only in response. School and college curricula should include age‑appropriate discussions on gender equality, consent, and non‑violent conflict resolution. Youth clubs, mohalla committees and local NGOs can be encouraged and supported to run regular awareness campaigns in both urban and rural areas. When young boys and girls are given alternative models of masculinity and family life, they are less likely to replicate abusive patterns.

Society must change its attitudes towards women who leave abusive marriages. Too often, a woman who returns to her parental home is seen as a burden or a source of shame. Parents may urge her to go back ‘for the sake of the children’ or to protect family honour. This culture traps women in violent homes. If we truly care about our daughters and sisters, we must be willing to stand with them even when it is socially inconvenient.

Tail piece

Finally, we should recognise domestic violence as a mental health issue as well not in the sense of excusing perpetrators, but in acknowledging the deep psychological wounds it leaves behind. Survivors often live with anxiety, depression, post‑traumatic stress, and a diminished sense of self-worth. Affordable, culturally sensitive mental health services are vital for healing, both for survivors and for children who witness violence and may carry its imprint into their adult relationships.

Breaking the silence around domestic violence in Kashmir will not be easy. It means challenging long‑held beliefs, confronting uncomfortable truths within our own families, and demanding more from our institutions. But the cost of inaction is far higher.

A society that cannot guarantee safety and dignity within the home cannot hope to build peace outside it. If we aspire to a just and humane future for the Valley, the struggle must begin not only at the borders and on the streets, but in the most intimate of spaces, our homes.

(The Author is a lecturer in HED and has a PhD in Sociology)