Dhuku: Chhota Nagpur
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A backgrounder
Mohua Das, May 28, 2023: The Times of India
In the lush forests of Surguja district in northern Chhattisgarh where the Mahabharata still resonates, live two primitive tribes — the ‘Pando’ claiming lineage to the Pandavas and the ‘Korwa’ to the Kauravas. However, despite their unique cultural heritage, children from these tribes have been bearing the weight of a time-honoured adivasi tradition called ‘dhuku’, a kind of live-in relationship which can be entered into even after a marriage and before or after the birth of children.
The term dhuku serves both as a verb and a noun signifying the act of ‘entering or getting in’ while also referring to the individuals who engage in this unconventional practice. Also known as ‘intrusion marriage’, cohabitation ofthis kind has been at the heart of tribal culture around the Chhota Nagpur plateau where a woman enters the house of the man she loves or the man brings in a woman he is attracted to, regardless of each other’s existing marital status.
While dhuku might be a profound departure from mainstream conventions of wedlock, it is a customary practice that exists within tribal communities. However, it is the children in dhuku households who often bear the brunt of a tradition they have no choice in. Sushil Kr Singh, a grassroots worker in Chhattisgarh, says that while couples in such live-in relationships are not harassed, it’s the children, especially from the first union, who often struggle with an uncertain future. “Some are sent away to the homes of their grandparents who, overwhelmed by the responsibility, marry them off prematurely or send them out to toil in the fields for survival. Alternatively, if they stay with their fathers (mothers prefer to leave them with the father to ensure they have a right to his ancestral property), they struggle for acceptance in the newly formed household and face a maze of challenges, ranging from maltreatment to neglect,” says Singh. He says equal division of property among children doesn’t always happen due to reduced landholding. “As a result, the fight over inheritance is more intense. Many such cases are pending in civil courts. ”
While parental affection remains elusive, in the wider society, their belongingness is questioned. “People often taunt me for being rejected by both parents,” says Rina Tirke, 19, whose world was turned upside down at 11 when her mother left her and her two older sisters to enter into a dhuku relationship with another man. “My father brought in another dhuku wife but tensions ran high. Desperate for an escape, both my sisters entered into dhuku marriages themselves at 14 and 16 while I stayed on,” she says. “My father and his dhuku started their own family and offered me no support. ” To sustain herself, Rina took on odd jobs for families in neighbouring villages, doing their household chores in exchange for school fees, food, and a place to stay. “I’ve been doing this for nine years now. I feel really angry and helpless at times because I’m not parentless, and yet I live like an orphan,” she says.
Although Rina’s determination and perhaps luck has enabled her to complete school and pursue her graduation, many children are left to fend for themselves. “In these farming and daily-labour-dependent communities, a majority of these children start working from a young age to earn money for basic needs and to support their own education,” says Kumar Nilendu, general manager development support, CRY (West) that recently surveyed 1,119 families from 33 villages in Surguja’s Sitapur block on the dhuku tradition.
“Findings revealed that at least 8-10% of families in each village were dhuku households and 16% of children from such families had been abandoned by their biological parents. A majority of children (43%) fall in the age range of 6-14 years while only 5% of the children from dhuku families attend school beyond class eight,” he says.
In their desperation to ease familial strife, children can slip into the clutches of traffickers. “The hostile home environment pushes these children, particularly those from the first marriage, to place their trust in perpetrators who are often friends, neighbours and even relatives,” says Nilendu, citing recent instances of rescuing a minor girl from a dhuku family trapped in domestic servitude in Delhi and another on the verge of being sold into sex work in Agra.
Although children emerging from dhuku households are trying to resist the tradition, curiously the practice has seen a rise. Contrary to a decade ago when dhuku was primarily associated with second unions based on ‘attraction’, a shift has emerged with dhuku taking root primarily within first marriages because couples want to avoid the escalating cost of a lavish wedding. In contrast, the stamp of recognition is accorded to a live-in couple by indulging a handful of guests in a humble feast of meat and rice. “It’s these individuals who feel validated to venture into dhuku marriage the second time around,” explains Singh.
Interestingly, the survey shows that the majority of dhuku marriages involve women, with 91% of married women leaving their homes to live with another husband, while 9% of married men leave their homes for a second wife.
Phulmatiya, a 60-year-old woman from the Oraon tribe, shares her distressing story about her daughter-in-law’s departure as a dhuku, leaving behind her four daughters after her husband died. With her elderly husband unable to work, Phulmatiya takes up seasonal jobs like planting seedlings or cutting grains, but it’s often not enough. Sandhya, Phulmatiya’s 13-year-old granddaughter, looks visibly unsettled. “My mother left without saying a word. We couldn’t focus on studies and had to be shifted out of a hostel into a government school. ”
So why are women ditching their spouses and kids? “For many women, this arises from a longing for attention and care or the trauma of living with a perpetually intoxicated spouse,” says Vijaya Lakra, a field worker from the Oraon tribe in Rajouti village.
Filly, 30, who entered into a dhuku marriage leaving three of her children with their grandparents, shares her reasons. “I was pregnant with my third child when my husband brought in a dhuku and wanted me to leave. I went off to live with my parents but feared conflict with my brothers. Four years ago, I met a man and decided to enter into a dhuku relationship with him,” says Filly. “My parents have promised my children a right to their ancestral property, while I’ve found contentment,” she says.
While those like Filly demonstrate individual agency, it is essential to evaluate the long-term implications, says Rukmini Sen, professor of sociology at Dr BR Ambedkar University, Delhi who has been supervising a PhD thesis on marriage practices like dhuku in Gumla, Jharkhand. “One can’t just leave it to tradition because women and children are at the receiving end. It’s important to question where these choices lead and how they intersect with their well-being and empowerment,” she says. Aarshi Jahan, her student who conducted interviews with women practising dhuku in Jharkhand as part of her research project, agrees.
“Vulnerabilities often go unreported because it’s normalised in the name of customary practices. ” Sen and Jahan stress on exploring the lived realities of non-traditional relationship practices from a rights and institutional support based lens.
