Episode Briefing: Haryana — The Feudal Republic
Thesis: Haryana is not an outlier. It is India’s future in miniature—a state where the khap panchayat, the BJP, and the JJP are not rivals but collaborators in the same project: the preservation of feudal power under the veneer of modernity. The wrestler protests were not a rebellion; they were a controlled burn, a ritual sacrifice to prove that even the most visible dissent can be absorbed, co-opted, or crushed. The violence against women here is not a bug; it is the operating system. And the rest of India is catching up.
The Human Specific: The Wrestlers Who Were Allowed to Kneel, But Not to Stand
In January 2023, Olympic medalists Sakshi Malik and Vinesh Phogat knelt on the streets of Jantar Mantar, their medals laid before them like an offering to a state that had already decided their fate. They were protesting against Brij Bhushan Sharan Singh, the BJP MP and wrestling federation chief accused of sexually harassing young female athletes. The images went viral: women in tracksuits, faces streaked with tears, surrounded by Delhi police in riot gear. For a moment, it looked like a revolution.
Then the state moved. First, the usual delays—FIRs filed, then buried; inquiries promised, then forgotten. Then, the co-option: the BJP offered Sakshi Malik a Rajya Sabha nomination (she declined). Then, the counter-narrative: Why are these women so angry? Don’t they know their place? The khap panchayats, those self-appointed custodians of "honor," weighed in. A Jat leader from Rohtak declared that the wrestlers were "bringing shame to Haryana" by airing their grievances in public. The message was clear: You can kneel, but you cannot stand. You can weep, but you cannot win.
By June, the protest had fizzled. The wrestlers were allowed to return to their villages, their medals still in their hands, their demands still unmet. The state had won. Not by force, but by exhaustion. The same exhaustion that keeps Haryana’s women trapped in a cycle of violence, where a girl is raped every 12 hours, where khap decrees still decide who can marry whom, where the police are more likely to register a case against a woman for "indecent behavior" than against her rapist.
The Chain Nobody Draws Explicitly: How the Feudal, the Political, and the Patriarchal Reinforce Each Other
- The Khap as the Shadow State
- Officially, khap panchayats have no legal standing. In reality, they are the first court of appeal in rural Haryana. They decide who can marry, who must die, who gets to live. The state does not dismantle them because they are useful: they enforce social control at no cost to the exchequer. When a khap orders a "honor killing," the police often look the other way. When a khap bans a couple from marrying outside their gotra, the administration nods along. The khap is not a relic; it is a parallel power structure, and the BJP has learned to work with it, not against it.
-
Example: In 2020, a khap in Jind district banned the use of mobile phones for unmarried women, calling them "a gateway to immorality." The local BJP MLA did not condemn the decree. Instead, he praised the khap for "upholding Indian culture."
-
The Political Class as the Khap’s Enforcers
- The BJP and the Jannayak Janta Party (JJP) are not rivals in Haryana; they are two sides of the same coin. The BJP, with its Hindutva nationalism, provides the ideological cover. The JJP, a breakaway faction of the INLD (itself a Jat-dominated party), provides the local muscle. Both rely on the same feudal networks to win elections. Both turn a blind eye to khap excesses when it suits them.
-
Example: In 2021, when a khap in Hisar ordered the social boycott of a Dalit family for daring to file a police complaint against upper-caste men, the local JJP MLA visited the village—not to condemn the khap, but to "mediate." The message was clear: The state will not protect you, but it will broker your surrender.
-
The Violence Against Women as a Tool of Control
- Haryana has the worst sex ratio in India (879 women per 1,000 men as per the 2011 census, though the real number is likely worse). It also has the highest rate of gang rapes in the country. These are not coincidences. They are two sides of the same strategy: Keep women dependent, keep them afraid, keep them in their place.
- The acid attack isn’t a crime of passion. It’s a property crime. In Haryana, a woman’s body is not her own; it is a commodity to be traded, a vessel for male honor, a bargaining chip in land disputes. When a woman refuses a marriage proposal, when she elopes with a man from a different caste, when she dares to file a complaint against a powerful man—the response is not just violence, but public violence. A gang rape in a village square. A khap decree ordering her family to disown her. A police station where the SHO tells her, "Beta, why don’t you just marry the man who raped you? It will save everyone a lot of trouble."
-
Example: In 2018, a 19-year-old Dalit woman in Sonipat was gang-raped by four men, including a local BJP leader’s son. When she tried to file a complaint, the police refused. When she persisted, the khap panchayat declared that she had "brought shame to the village" and ordered her family to leave. They did.
-
The Wrestler Protests: A Controlled Burn
- The wrestler protests were not a failure of the system. They were a success—a demonstration of how the system absorbs dissent. The state allowed the protests to happen because it knew they would not last. It allowed the wrestlers to kneel because it knew they would not be allowed to stand.
- How it worked:
- Stage 1: Let them protest. The BJP initially ignored the wrestlers, calculating that the outrage would fade. When it didn’t, they deployed the Delhi police to contain the protests, not to address them.
- Stage 2: Co-opt the leaders. Sakshi Malik was offered a Rajya Sabha seat. Vinesh Phogat was given vague assurances. The message: You can have a seat at the table, but not a voice.
- Stage 3: Exhaust the movement. The wrestlers were forced to camp in Jantar Mantar for months, their lives put on hold. The state knew that eventually, they would have to return to training, to their families, to the grind of daily life. The protest was not crushed; it was outlasted.
- Stage 4: Declare victory. By the time the wrestlers returned to Haryana, the narrative had shifted. The BJP claimed that the wrestlers had been "misled" by "anti-national elements." The khaps declared that the wrestlers had "forgotten their culture." The wrestlers themselves were left with nothing but their medals—and the knowledge that the state had won.
The One Thing That Would Actually Change It—And Why It Won’t Happen
What would change it: A complete dismantling of the khap system, enforced by the state. Not just lip service, but real action: arrests of khap leaders who issue illegal decrees, protection for couples who marry outside their caste, swift and severe punishment for honor killings. This would require the state to stop treating khaps as cultural institutions and start treating them as criminal syndicates.
Why it won’t happen: Because the khap is not just a parallel power structure—it is the foundation of Haryana’s political economy. The BJP and the JJP rely on khaps to deliver votes, to enforce social control, to keep the rural population in line. The moment the state cracks down on khaps, it risks alienating its own base. And so the khaps endure, the violence continues, and the wrestlers kneel—but never stand.
Possible Headline / Episode Title Options
- "Haryana: The Feudal Republic"
- "The Wrestlers Who Were Allowed to Kneel, But Not to Stand"
- "Khap Country: Where the State and the Panchayat Are the Same Thing"
- "The Honor System: How Haryana’s Violence Against Women Is Not a Bug, But the Code"
- "Two Costumes, One Feudalism: How the BJP and JJP Keep Haryana in the Dark Ages"
- "The Protest That Was Allowed to Happen—Because It Was Doomed to Fail"
- "Haryana: The State Where Women Are Property, and the State Is the Property of Men"
- "The Long Damage: How Haryana’s Feudalism Is India’s Future"
Final Note: The Rest of India Is Catching Up
Haryana is not an exception. It is a warning. The khap panchayats of Haryana are the village councils of Uttar Pradesh, the caste panchayats of Rajasthan, the moral policing squads of Karnataka. The violence against women in Haryana is the violence against women in Delhi, in Mumbai, in every Indian city where a woman is told to "adjust" rather than demand justice. The wrestler protests were not a failure of Haryana alone; they were a failure of India—a country where dissent is allowed only if it is performative, where justice is a mirage, and where the state is not a protector but a collaborator in the oppression of its own people.
The damage is not slow here. It is methodical. And it is coming for the rest of us.