Behind Closed Doors: India Still Treats Domestic Abuse As Just A 'Family Matter'

Behind every closed door of silence lies a child learning fear, a woman unlearning love, and a society normalising cruelty as destiny, until we choose to break it.

author-image
Yogita Leve
New Update
darlings

Photograph: Netflix (Darlings, 2022) | Used for representation only

Listen to this article
0.75x1x1.5x
00:00/ 00:00

Domestic violence in India continues to reveal itself not only as a private nightmare but as a national crisis, one that persists despite decades of legal reforms and awareness campaigns. In today’s India, where conversations about equality, consent, and women’s autonomy have entered classrooms, courtrooms, and even cinema halls, the silence within homes still carries the loudest violence.

Domestic Violence epidemic in India

Advertisment

Government data lay bare this uncomfortable reality. The National Family Health Survey (NFHS-5, 2019–21) reported that 29.3% of ever-married women in India had experienced physical, sexual, or emotional violence at the hands of their spouses. The statistic is staggering because it isn’t an isolated percentage. It represents millions of women across urban high-rises and rural hamlets alike. This finding, documented in a study available on the National Centre for Biotechnology Information (NCBI) database, underlines how domestic violence cuts across caste, class, and geography, embedding itself as an everyday reality in Indian households.

The law, on paper, appears robust. The Protection of Women from Domestic Violence Act (PWDVA), 2005, was hailed as a progressive step acknowledging not just physical abuse, but also sexual, verbal, emotional, and economic violence. Yet, the gap between law and lived experience is wide.

Courts often reduce women’s testimonies to “marital disputes,” police stations continue to act as negotiation chambers, urging “compromise,” and families, especially in small towns, encourage silence over dignity. For every case reported, several never see the light of day.

According to the latest National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB) report, more than 4.4 lakh cases were registered under “crimes against women” in 2022, with cruelty by husbands and relatives consistently making up the largest share. Although the NCRB’s 2024 report has not been released yet, the trajectory suggests little improvement.

Intergenerational impact

The costs of domestic violence do not remain confined to the victim. A 2024 study published in The Hindu highlighted that children of mothers who suffer domestic violence are significantly more prone to mental health issues, including anxiety, depression, and behavioural challenges. Violence reverberates intergenerationally. It destroys childhood, interrupts education, and sets the stage for cycles of trauma that can last lifetimes.

The pandemic years magnified this crisis. Lockdowns forced women to stay trapped with their abusers while support systems collapsed. Even now, in 2025, the aftershocks are visible. Calls to women’s helplines have not returned to pre-pandemic lows. Instead, digital reporting platforms have become flooded with pleas for help, especially from younger women who may not yet feel safe approaching police stations. This suggests both a rise in awareness and a grim persistence of violence.

How much longer?

Advertisment

Cultural norms continue to shield perpetrators. Patriarchal conditioning frames marriage as sacred, obedience as duty, and silence as virtue. Women internalise blame, fearing stigma more than bruises. In-laws normalise cruelty as “discipline.” Communities dismiss assault as a “family matter.” Even educated households reproduce the same silence, cloaking abuse under the garb of respectability.

The feminist struggle against domestic violence, therefore, isn’t merely about demanding stricter laws. It is about confronting the everyday social habits that allow violence to be excused, ignored, or justified. It is about reimagining safety not as a privilege but as a fundamental right within one’s own home. It is about placing accountability on men, not on women, to “adjust.”

What makes this battle even more urgent in 2025 is the paradox of progress. Women are entering universities, boardrooms, and legislatures in unprecedented numbers. India boasts of women CEOs, pilots, scientists, and lawyers. Yet, the home, a space that should represent safety, remains the most dangerous place for nearly one in three women. The contradiction between a woman celebrated in public and silenced in private remains the most telling marker of patriarchy’s endurance.

If India must aspire to genuine modernity, it cannot continue to normalise bruises hidden under sarees or WhatsApp status updates that disguise despair. Every statistic here is not just data—it is a wound on the nation’s conscience, a reminder that the real measure of progress is not skyscrapers or GDP numbers, but whether women can live free of fear inside their own homes.