Kanyadaan Still Exists, But Do We Teach Boys ‘Patnidharm’ Anymore?

In thousands of households across India, the ritual of Kanyadaan still unfolds with solemnity and tears: a father places his daughter’s hand into the groom’s, whispers blessings, and symbolically entrusts his child into her new home. In that moment the daughter becomes a form of Lakshmi,the goddess of wealth, prosperity, dignity. Her leaving is a sacred hand-over. And yet, what quietly happens afterwards is seldom acknowledged: the new home is given a goddess, but the groom is rarely handed a scroll of responsibilities. Yes, wives are schooled to be loyal daughters and dutiful brides; but do we teach husbands the meaning of becoming a spouse, of being a “patni­dharma” (the duty of husband towards wife) in today’s world?


The term “Kanyadaan” literally breaks into “kanya” (daughter) + “daan” (gift/offer). But even many scholars point out: this translation fails to capture the nuance of original texts. Some research argues that the Vedas did not originally articulate Kanyadaan in the form we see today, the sense of father giving his daughter as a guardian’s gift came later.
Yet, culturally it remains deeply entrenched: the bride’s departure, the goddess metaphor, the celebration of “giving” the daughter. Parents believe that by giving her, they are handing wealth, dignity, blessing. In this gesture, the home welcomes Lakshmi, in her human form. Yet the symbolic ledger is incomplete.


In the ritual we see immense emphasis on the bride and her homecoming, her leaving, on her role. But what of the groom’s role beyond “accepting”? What of the spouse’s role beyond “receiving”? The term Dharma‑Patni appears in scriptures: a wife who walks the path of dharma with her husband. Yet there is no equally routine teaching of the concept of Patnidharma, the duty of the husband to his wife, his home, his shared life.
A home blessed with Lakshmi walks in. What happens when ego, pride or neglect walk alongside? A goddess doesn’t stay in a space filled with self-aggrandisement or unilateral control. And ego in the house is real. A man told “you’ll provide, protect, command”, but rarely told why in the spirit of partnership, respect, sacred trust.


When the home is full of ego, the husband’s ego, the in-laws’ ego, the father-in-law’s ego, the metaphoric Lakshmi may stay in forms, but her presence becomes overshadowed by friction. The ritual remains, yet its intent may evaporate. Here are everyday moments you’ll recognise:

• The new wife brings in hopes, respect, care, but is told “this is how we run things.”
• The husband receives adulation for marrying “our girl”, but nobody asks whether he knows how to honour her voice, her choices.
• The home is “given a wife” in ceremony, but the wife is expected to assimilate into a world where the husband has not been taught to become a spouse, to walk beside, to lift, to transform.
• When he is not taught; when only she is made into the ‘offering’, imbalance creeps in.

If we were to teach husbands (and men generally) the concept of Patnidharm, it might include:

• Listening & Respecting: Beyond permission, a spouse should learn to hear his partner’s voice, not as “helping” but as co-creating.
• Shared Purpose: Not “I am the provider” but “we are the household”; not “my career comes first” but “our vision carries us”.
• Emotional Integrity: A home where feelings, vulnerabilities, aspirations are not shushed in favour of ‘masculinity’ or ‘control’.
• Growth & Service: A husband should regard his wife not as a gift to him, but as a journey-partner; his role is not just receiver, but one who walks next to her, lifts her, honours her.
• Ego-check Mechanism: To recognise that the space of marriage is not a pedestal for self-aggrandisement. When ego dominates, the goddess flees.

This isn’t just “Indian tradition” critique. Wherever a culture places one partner as the “gift” and the other as the “receiver”, we risk imbalance. The metaphor of goddess walking away, it’s not just mythic. It’s real. Homes everywhere see wealth flee when one side holds the power edges and the other’s dignity is silent.
Men too lose, losing connection, intimacy, shared meaning. A “successful” house full of ego is often empty of wonder, of sacredness, of that inner light that Lakshmi embodies. So what should we change, practically?

• At weddings: Let the groom recite, or the couple together recite, not just vows but also duties. “I will walk beside you”, “I will honour you”, “I will protect your dignity”.
• In homes: Pause and ask, is ego running the show? Who’s making the decisions, who’s hearing the voice?
• In parenting: We teach our daughters that they are precious, to be protected, to bring honour. Let us teach our sons: you are responsible, you are sacred. Not just in ceremony, but in everyday.
• In relationships: Reframe the metaphor: the wife is not the goddess handed over; the couple are two deities that build the home together. The husband’s ego is not part of the altar.

When the home welcomes Lakshmi, let it also honour Vishnu in the husband, not as overlord, but as guardian, partner, keeper of the sacred flame. Ego is the antithesis of sacred; humility and mutual respect are the incantations that keep the goddess within. If the ritual continues and yet the goddess leaves too soon, maybe it’s not the ritual that’s wrong, but the missing ledger of duty, of humanity, of equality.
In one hand we place the bride’s hand into the groom’s. In the other, let us place his hand into hers, his promise to walk beside, to build, to honour. And then the home becomes truly a temple, not of one, but of two souls creating one sacred life.