Why Indian Sons-in-Law Think They’re Gods

There is a peculiar phenomenon in Indian households that remains untouched by time, class, or even education. It is the sudden divine elevation of a man the moment he marries someone’s daughter. He might have entered the home as a stranger with nothing but a suitcase, but overnight, he is treated like a guest sent by the heavens. Chairs are pulled out for him. Food is served piping hot with a reverence you won’t see for anyone else. His smallest wishes are met before he can speak them. He yawns and someone brings tea. He raises an eyebrow and someone adjusts the fan speed. In all this quiet worship, a new identity is born: The Son-in-Law, God Incarnate. But where does this come from? Why is he treated like royalty in the very house where the daughter was raised to be modest and self-sacrificing? And why, more disturbingly, do so many Indian sons-in-law actually start believing they deserve it?

In traditional Indian families, marriage is often seen less as a partnership and more as a transaction. The bride’s family performs kanyadaan, literally meaning they donate their daughter. The son-in-law is not marrying a person; he is accepting an offering. This changes the power balance immediately. He is not an equal, he is a receiver of their greatest sacrifice. And what do you do with someone you’ve given your most precious possession to? You worship him. The more silent and polite he stays, the more divine his aura becomes.

There is nothing wrong with respecting a son-in-law. But in so many Indian homes, this respect slides into full-blown servitude. He does not lift a plate. He is served water before he asks. Meals are adjusted to his exact tastes, whether it means less spice, no garlic, or freshly made chapatis at midnight. Everyone orbits his needs. Fathers-in-law hand him the newspaper folded just so. Mothers-in-law change the TV channel for him without complaint. Sisters-in-law wake up early to make his tea. Over time, this royal treatment stops looking like kindness and starts to feel like his birthright.

The moment a daughter marries, her well-being and security are seen as dependent on how happy the son-in-law is with her. So families bend over backwards to keep him pleased. If he is annoyed, they worry the daughter will suffer. If he is insulted, she will be blamed. Keeping him calm and content becomes a survival tactic. Ironically, the same parents who taught their daughters to endure and adjust will contort themselves to make sure their son-in-law never has to do the same. Even his silence makes everyone anxious, searching for what they did wrong.

It is not just about tradition. It is about control. The son-in-law quickly learns that the family’s peace depends on his approval. He becomes the gatekeeper, not only of their daughter’s happiness but of their pride. This creates a dangerous imbalance. Some men exploit it subtly, dropping passive-aggressive hints or withholding warmth to make their power felt. Others push it further, using financial threats, cruel comments, or silent punishment. When a man is taught that his worth comes from being above everyone else, even basic decency starts to look like a favour he is doing for the family.

In most households, daughters are told to adjust, compromise, and be patient. The son-in-law, however, is expected to be accepted exactly as he is. His short temper is forgiven. His rude jokes are brushed aside. If he does not show up for festivals or skips calls, he is “busy” and “important.” No one dares to ask him to do better because his presence alone is treated like a blessing. This lack of accountability breeds entitlement. Over time, he learns he can do very little and still be praised for doing anything at all. If a man keeps being told he is perfect, he will eventually believe it.

Many families, especially in middle-class India, still see a daughter’s marriage as an achievement and her husband as the trophy. The more “qualified” the son-in-law, the more reverence he gets. It is not always about love. It is about status. The son-in-law becomes a symbol of how well the family has done. They project his success as their success. And if he ever mistreats their daughter, they often hide it to protect his image. Protecting him means protecting the pride that comes with him.

If you want to know how deep patriarchy runs, just compare how Indian families treat their daughters to how they treat the men those daughters marry. Somewhere along the line, sons-in-law stopped being guests and started being kings. But here is the truth about kings: they rarely change until someone dares to question the throne. And in a home where obedience takes the place of equality, love becomes duty, not choice.

A daughter is not a gift. A husband is not a prize. Respect should not come at the cost of a family’s self-respect. Maybe it is time to retire the divine throne and let everyone pull up a chair at the same table. And perhaps, just once, hand the son-in-law the jug of water — let him pour his own glass. Sit with that.