Parental consent for marriage? Gujarat’s curious political consensus

 

The other day, a discussion broke out among ten friends on love marriages—a contentious issue in Gujarat following moves in the corridors of power to regulate them by making parental consent mandatory. One of us claimed that, unlike in the past, nearly 70 percent of weddings today are love marriages. Another person, who had eloped to get married years ago, remarked, “Problems exist everywhere, whether it is a love marriage or an arranged one.”

I asked my friends what they thought about the Gujarat government’s proposal to bring in such a law. The woman and her husband who had themselves run away to get married without parental consent (and are happily married ever since) insisted the proposal was meant only to curb what is described as “love jihad.” “They just want to protect Hindu girls who are lured away by Muslims,” they said.

When I suggested that if such an obligation—parental consent for marriage—were introduced, it would apply to all marriages and not just to the supposed victims of “love jihad,” the woman immediately objected. “That would be bad,” she said. “How can parental consent be made mandatory? It goes against personal freedom and the Constitution.” However, another woman insisted that the government would have to ensure that such a rule applied only to cases of “love jihad,” not to all marriages.

I could not help wondering how deeply anti-Muslim sentiment has seeped into sections of Gujarat’s middle class. Love marriages without parental consent seem acceptable as long as they are within the same religion, but not when a Muslim man seeks to marry a Hindu woman.

Be that as it may, looking at the overall socio-political atmosphere in Gujarat, there appears to be a broad consensus on parental consent. The only difference is that while the BJP rulers speak openly about “love jihad,” the two main opposition parties in the state—the Congress and the Aam Aadmi Party (AAP)—avoid using that phrase.

In a statement in the state legislature recently, Gujarat’s home minister, who is also deputy chief minister, Harsh Sanghavi declared that the Gujarat Registration of Marriages Act, 2006 might need to be amended to make parental consent compulsory for legalising any marriage. Raising the spectre of “love jihad,” he said, “There is no objection to love. But if some Salim posing as a Suresh traps a girl, we will not spare them.”

From all appearances, this seemed more for public consumption. It appeared designed to pacify recent all-male caste gatherings—especially among the numerically strong Patel and Thakor communities—which have expressed concern over a rising number of love marriages taking place without parental approval.

Not without reason. While Sanghavi claimed that in the Panchmahals district there were a very high number of “fake marriage certificates,” particularly in cases of inter-religious weddings—even in rural areas where he said there were “no Muslims or mosques”—the government itself appears reluctant to immediately amend the law.

In fact, it has shown little urgency. The government has announced a 30-day period for public suggestions and recommendations on the proposed changes, after which a review committee will be formed before any amendment is drafted. In effect, this means no immediate change to the law is likely in the coming months.

All indications suggest Sanghavi’s remarks were aimed at placating influential Patel and Thakor caste groups that provide an important electoral support to the ruling party. For quite some time, they have been approaching Gujarat authorities demanding that parental consent be made compulsory for the registration of marriages.

Early this year, a Thakor community meeting was held in Patan where a new “social constitution” was read out and oaths were administered to allegedly eliminate old customs and build a more disciplined society. The gathering announced that elopement marriages would not be accepted and introduced around sixteen new rules, including bans on DJs and sunroof cars at wedding ceremonies. The slogan “One Society, One Custom” was adopted to promote unity.

Notably, the convention was overwhelmingly male. Only one woman was present (photo): the Congress MP Geniben Thakor, who read out the so-called social constitution. A year later, she publicly supported Sanghavi’s declaration about banning marriages without parental consent, describing such a move as “meeting the demands of the current times.”

She argued that some criminal elements were “trapping” young girls into love marriages whose consequences “often prove tragic,” which is why, she said, “all communities have been demanding that the law related to love marriage be amended to make parental consent mandatory, and that villagers be included as witnesses.”

This was not a new position for her. In 2019, as a Congress MLA, she supported a decision by sections of the Thakor community to ban the use of mobile phones by unmarried girls. In 2023, she, along with BJP MLA Fatesinh Chauhan, demanded an amendment to the marriage registration law to make parental signatures mandatory when adult children chose their own partners.

Curious about whether the Congress as a party supported Sanghavi’s proposal, I called up a party spokesperson in Gujarat. Instead of offering a clear position, the spokesperson simply forwarded Geniben’s statement, which I have quoted above. “She is our esteemed MP—the only one from Gujarat,” he said. “There is little reason to believe this is not the Congress view.”

As for AAP, one of the first things its leader Gopal Italia (photo) did after winning the Visavadar assembly seat in a by-election last year was to write to the chief minister demanding a law to prevent young women from eloping with their boyfriends to get married.

Italia, a Patel and one of AAP’s most prominent leaders in Gujarat, argued that the large number of “incidents of girls running away or being made to run away at a legally adult but socially immature age” needed to be stopped. Among other things, he proposed that marriages should be registered only at the permanent residence of the bride.

Calling love marriages a “huge social problem,” he claimed that in many cases girls are “targeted and trapped in a web of love at an innocent age while still studying in school.” According to him, “a well-organised and systematic conspiracy is underway to arrange marriages for runaway couples.” He alleged that such couples are often taken to remote villages in distant districts where marriages are registered for money without proper documentation.

Italia cited what he called data from several villages: in Panchmahal district’s Bhadrala village, he claimed, 560 such marriages were registered; in Amreli district’s Dhampur, Jamka, Mujyasar and Tulindhya villages, the numbers were 1,341, 944, 380 and 258 respectively; and in Anand district’s Sandh, Rel and Vali villages, the figures were 365, 1,193 and 113.

He alleged that these registrations were frequently based on fake documents and involved various irregularities. According to him, “private agents, ‘love mafias’ and gangs”—some allegedly from outside the state—facilitated such “fake marriages,” often exploiting young couples financially and physically in the name of providing protection.

Italia’s letter, written in Gujarati, appeared primarily aimed at reassuring dominant sections of the community he belongs to—the Patels—where, particularly in rural areas, love marriages without parental approval are often viewed with deep disapproval. Notably, neither his letter nor Geniben Thakor’s statement touched upon another pressing social issue within these communities: the skewed sex ratio.