Why Does Indian Marriage Still Demand a Wife, Not a Woman?

She wakes up before dawn, eats in silence, then begins a ritual of hunger — not for herself, but for the man she married. She spends the day without food or water, dresses in red, prays for his long life, and waits for the moon like her love depends on it. Society calls her devoted. Traditional. An ideal woman.

But the same woman, if she questions marriage, asks for equal rights, or says she doesn’t want to fast, suddenly becomes difficult. Disrespectful. Too modern.

We live in a country where a woman starving for her husband is celebrated, but a woman speaking for herself is seen as dangerous. We glorify rituals rooted in self-sacrifice and shame ideologies rooted in self-respect.

Feminism is not the threat to family values. It’s the mirror. And maybe, we don’t like what we see in it. Karva Chauth glorifies silence. It elevates the idea that love means endurance, sacrifice, and self-denial — as long as it comes from the woman.
The woman who quietly fasts for her husband’s long life is applauded. But the one who says, “I want equal partnership,” is branded aggressive, disrespectful, or even ‘too western.’

There’s no issue with celebrating love — but when love is defined by how much a woman can give up, while men remain untouched by the same expectations, it’s not culture. It’s gendered servitude in festive packaging. In movies, Karva Chauth is always shown with slow music, sindoor, and moonlit silhouettes. But in real life, only one person fasts. One person gets dehydrated. One person plans the pooja and dresses up. The other just shows up and eats.

And we still call this “mutual love”?

Feminism questions why emotional labor, household rituals, and religious duties are always women’s responsibilities — and why that’s somehow considered romantic instead of exploitative.
Real love isn’t silent sacrifice. It’s shared responsibility. But that doesn’t look as good on a film poster, does it? Supporters of Karva Chauth often say, “No one forces women to fast — it’s their choice.”
Let’s test that.

What happens when a woman says, “I don’t want to fast”? She’s told she doesn’t love her husband. She’s shamed by relatives. She’s judged by society. Sometimes, she’s even gaslighted by her own partner.

That’s not choice. That’s social coercion with bangles on.

Feminism isn’t anti-choice — it’s pro informed, unpressured, free choice. If a woman wants to fast, that’s her right. But if she doesn’t, that should be just as respected — and not treated like betrayal. “Feminism is destroying Indian families,” they say. But what kind of family is so fragile it collapses the moment a woman demands fairness?

Feminism doesn’t ask for women to dominate men. It asks for marriages where both partners share parenting, finances, household duties, and emotional care.

If that sounds like destruction, maybe the traditional family wasn’t a safe space — just a silent one. Feminism doesn’t bring chaos. It reveals the imbalance that’s already there — the unpaid labor, the unspoken exhaustion, the swallowed dreams. Let’s call it what it is: Karva Chauth, in many cases, is patriarchy with pretty packaging.

It places all responsibility for a man’s wellbeing on the woman — physical, emotional, and spiritual. And when she does it without complaint, we applaud her. But when she demands the same care in return, suddenly we talk about “losing culture.”

“Family values” often just means: “We value women only when they don’t demand anything in return.”
Feminism unmasks this — which is exactly why it’s so feared. Feminism is not here to cancel Karva Chauth. It’s here to ask: Why is sacrifice the only way women are allowed to show love?

Why is marriage still treated as a woman's life's purpose? Why are unmarried women seen as incomplete? Why do we expect endurance from wives and forgiveness from mothers, but so little from men?

Karva Chauth, when freely chosen, can be meaningful. But when it becomes a silent test of loyalty, a cultural pressure point, or a public measure of virtue — it stops being devotion and starts being duty.


Until we learn to celebrate a woman’s freedom with the same pride that we celebrate her sacrifice, we will keep mistaking control for culture.

Feminism doesn’t ask us to stop fasting. It asks us to stop forcing. It doesn’t attack love — it demands that love be mutual.

So, this Karva Chauth, fast if you want to. Pray if it brings you peace. But remember:
The moon may rise for love. But true love rises when a woman doesn’t have to shrink for it.