A childhood snatched, a future denied
V. Haritha isn't sure how old she was when she got married. 'I was just 14, maybe,' she says, adjusting a child on her hip while two more play nearby. Now 18, she is a mother of three, living in Gangaraju Madugula, a remote village about 120 km from Visakhapatnam, nestled in the Eastern Ghats of Andhra Pradesh.
The village is home to tribal communities such as the Kondhs and Porajas, listed among India's Particularly Vulnerable Tribal Groups (PVTGs). Access to education, healthcare and steady income remains limited in the region, and families often make difficult decisions in the face of poverty and isolation. For many girls like Haritha, that includes getting married — and becoming mothers — while still in their teens.
Standing beside her is 16-year-old S. Rupa, eight months pregnant. She married a 24-year-old man a year ago. 'My father couldn't afford to feed all of us. I am the third girl. He had no choice,' she explains with practiced calm.
Teenage girls like Haritha and Rupa, married young and already mothers, are not exceptions in Andhra Pradesh and Telangana. Their stories are part of a larger trend documented in the Round Seven of the Work and Family Lives: Young Lives Survey, released in Hyderabad on May 30 this year.
The study began in 2002 in the then-undivided Andhra Pradesh, selected as one of four global sites alongside Ethiopia, Peru and Vietnam. 'The State was chosen because of its early push to economic reforms — initiatives such as Vision 2020 and privatisation made it an ideal setting to study how liberalisation impacted children over time,' says E. Revathi, director of the Centre for Economic and Social Studies and lead investigator of the study in India.
Using a longitudinal, mixed-methods approach, the study tracked 2,000 one-year-olds and 1,000 eight-year-olds across 20 sentinel sites — urban and rural clusters selected based on development indicators. Over 23 years, researchers followed these children across Andhra, Rayalaseema and Telangana, documenting how they grew up, studied, worked, got married and had children. While some indicators improved, one pattern remained stubbornly visible: the prevalence of early marriage and teenage pregnancies.
One of those tracked was Kamakshi, a girl from the Goya tribal community in Mahbubnagar, Telangana. She was just 11 when she was married off to a 16-year-old relative. Her parents, struggling with poverty and homelessness, saw marriage as a way to reduce their burden. 'She was eight when we first met her in 2002,' recalls P. Prudhvikar Reddy, one of the field researchers. 'By our second visit in 2006, she was already married. And by 2013, she was raising three children.'
Now 29, Kamakshi is a grandmother. One of her daughters was married before she turned 18; another, who is out of school, lives with a relative in Jogulamba Gadwal. 'I could not leave her alone at home while I went to work,' says Kamakshi, who makes a living through daily wage work, by frequenting the labour addas of Chandrayangutta, Hyderabad — just 100 km from Mahbubnagar.
In forest-fringed Chittoor of Andhra Pradesh, a Scheduled Tribe girl from Bangarupalem recounts her troubled marriage to a 28-year-old daily wage labourer, now working near Tamil Nadu border. In October 2023, local police and activists intervened to stop her child marriage. The families agreed to delay it until she turned 18.
'But just two days later, my father took me to a temple of our village goddess, near Kolar in Karnataka. The wedding was conducted in the presence of a few relatives. From there, I was taken to Bengaluru, where I worked as a housemaid in a posh locality while my husband took up a job as a truck driver,' she shares.
Within a month, she got pregnant. After she gave birth to a girl, her husband vanished without a word. She waited three months before returning to her parents' home in Chittoor. 'He came back a few months ago, promising he will never abandon us again. But I know, he is not just a drunkard but also a liar,' she says, her laughter tinged with resignation.
In the Bangarupalem-Palamaner belt, considered a hotspot for child marriage, the Rural Organisation for Poverty Eradication Services (ROPES), a 35-year-old NGO, has intervened in several cases.
'Just in the last couple of years, we have stopped over 200 child marriages in these two mandals. The numbers are slowly falling compared to previous decades, but the threat still looms in silence,' says K. Dhanasekharan, chairman of the NGO.
Data doesn't lie
While the National Family Health Survey (2019-20) noted a modest drop in teenage pregnancies — from 8% to 7% — the Young Lives study painted a starker picture. In Telangana alone, 20% of women were married before the age of 18, and 28% had a child before they turned 19. Early marriage and motherhood continue to limit educational and economic prospects, though the overall trend is declining, note researchers.
Among the younger cohort tracked by the study, 13% were married before 18 whereas 18% had become mothers by 19. The figures were higher among the older cohort (25% and 27%, respectively), suggesting gradual improvement over time.
Some of that change is reflected in the trajectory of K. Mona, 31, who lives in a packed slum in northwest Hyderabad. A participant in the Young Lives study since 2002, Mona was just eight when her father died. With no government school nearby and her mother unable to afford private fees, her education ended in Class V.
While her mother worked long hours as a domestic worker — leaving at 10 a.m. and returning after a 12-hour shift — Mona stayed home, read the Bible and dabbled in stitching. Her elder sisters, sent to relatives in Machilipatnam, managed to study further: one became a lecturer after completing her MBA, the other a teacher after earning a degree in engineering.
Mona remained behind to help her mother and took up odd jobs, including at a local medical store, where she met her future husband, a driver. She got married at 20 and her husband, she says, remains her biggest support.
With his encouragement, Mona completed her Class 10 through open schooling. 'I can read now. I understand English even if I can't speak or write. I help my children with their homework,' she says with quiet pride. Her seven-year-old son studies in a private school and wants to join the Army; her five-year-old daughter, who goes to the neighbourhood Anganwadi school, dreams of becoming a doctor.
Sometimes, Mona wonders what her life might have been. 'If my father had lived, if there had been a school nearby... things would have been different,' she says, tears welling up. 'My sisters got chances that I didn't. It was not anyone's fault — just the place, the time, the options we had.'
A different trajectory
Just a few lanes away from her resides 22-year-old Jiya, another participant in the Young Lives study, enrolled when she was just a year old. Raised in the same slum as Mona, Jiya's journey has taken a different course, shaped by steady parental support, access to education and self-assured ambition. Her father, a local pastor, made it clear from the start: her education came first.
Petite and poised, dressed in lavender trousers and a crisp white top, Jiya is a BSc (Mathematics) graduate from a private college in Hyderabad. Over the past few years, she has held two jobs — first at the help desk of Rajiv Gandhi International Airport in Hyderabad, then at a customer service firm in the city.
As a child, she had wanted to be a teacher. By her teens, she was training to become an air hostess. She cleared two rounds of interviews with a Middle Eastern airline, only to be rejected in the final round for something as trivial as a pimple. 'It upset me, of course, but not enough to make me give up,' she says.
She took up the help desk job in Hyderabad anyway, travelling four km by bus every day, dressed in a blazer and formals. 'I liked the work, but the pay — ₹17,000 a month — and the atmosphere weren't great. The men passed uncomfortable comments,' she says. With her parents' support, she chose to walk away and pursue higher studies instead.
She continued her open degree alongside a year of air hostess training and later joined a call centre, earning over ₹20,000. But the night shifts triggered persistent migraines, forcing her to quit last month.
Now, Jiya is preparing to join an IT firm. Marriage isn't on her mind just yet. 'Maybe in a few years,' she shrugs. 'If I find someone I want to share my life with, I will think about it. But for now, I am focused on work and stability.'
Growth on paper, gaps on ground
One of the key factors contributing to the shift in social practices, particularly the delay in early marriages, has been the growing presence of social welfare residential schools across both States. Andhra Pradesh currently has over 590 such schools under the Tribal Welfare Department; Telangana has 158.
These fully residential institutions offer free meals, three times a day, along with education, which has encouraged parents from tribal and low-income communities to send their children, especially girls, to school.
'By the time a student completes school here, they are around 17 years old. That alone has significantly reduced the likelihood of marriage before 18,' says an official from the Andhra Pradesh Tribal Welfare Department.
Economic indicators in both States show impressive growth. Andhra Pradesh recorded a Gross State Domestic Product (GSDP) growth of 12.94% in 2024, with balanced gains across agriculture, industry and services. Telangana followed with a GSDP growth of 10.1%, driven largely by industry and IT services. Yet, this economic momentum hasn't resulted in proportionate investment in social sectors. And until social development keeps pace with economic growth, the burden of inequality will continue to fall on the most vulnerable — young girls at the margins.
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The Hindu
7 hours ago
- The Hindu
A childhood snatched, a future denied
V. Haritha isn't sure how old she was when she got married. 'I was just 14, maybe,' she says, adjusting a child on her hip while two more play nearby. Now 18, she is a mother of three, living in Gangaraju Madugula, a remote village about 120 km from Visakhapatnam, nestled in the Eastern Ghats of Andhra Pradesh. The village is home to tribal communities such as the Kondhs and Porajas, listed among India's Particularly Vulnerable Tribal Groups (PVTGs). Access to education, healthcare and steady income remains limited in the region, and families often make difficult decisions in the face of poverty and isolation. For many girls like Haritha, that includes getting married — and becoming mothers — while still in their teens. Standing beside her is 16-year-old S. Rupa, eight months pregnant. She married a 24-year-old man a year ago. 'My father couldn't afford to feed all of us. I am the third girl. He had no choice,' she explains with practiced calm. Teenage girls like Haritha and Rupa, married young and already mothers, are not exceptions in Andhra Pradesh and Telangana. Their stories are part of a larger trend documented in the Round Seven of the Work and Family Lives: Young Lives Survey, released in Hyderabad on May 30 this year. The study began in 2002 in the then-undivided Andhra Pradesh, selected as one of four global sites alongside Ethiopia, Peru and Vietnam. 'The State was chosen because of its early push to economic reforms — initiatives such as Vision 2020 and privatisation made it an ideal setting to study how liberalisation impacted children over time,' says E. Revathi, director of the Centre for Economic and Social Studies and lead investigator of the study in India. Using a longitudinal, mixed-methods approach, the study tracked 2,000 one-year-olds and 1,000 eight-year-olds across 20 sentinel sites — urban and rural clusters selected based on development indicators. Over 23 years, researchers followed these children across Andhra, Rayalaseema and Telangana, documenting how they grew up, studied, worked, got married and had children. While some indicators improved, one pattern remained stubbornly visible: the prevalence of early marriage and teenage pregnancies. One of those tracked was Kamakshi, a girl from the Goya tribal community in Mahbubnagar, Telangana. She was just 11 when she was married off to a 16-year-old relative. Her parents, struggling with poverty and homelessness, saw marriage as a way to reduce their burden. 'She was eight when we first met her in 2002,' recalls P. Prudhvikar Reddy, one of the field researchers. 'By our second visit in 2006, she was already married. And by 2013, she was raising three children.' Now 29, Kamakshi is a grandmother. One of her daughters was married before she turned 18; another, who is out of school, lives with a relative in Jogulamba Gadwal. 'I could not leave her alone at home while I went to work,' says Kamakshi, who makes a living through daily wage work, by frequenting the labour addas of Chandrayangutta, Hyderabad — just 100 km from Mahbubnagar. In forest-fringed Chittoor of Andhra Pradesh, a Scheduled Tribe girl from Bangarupalem recounts her troubled marriage to a 28-year-old daily wage labourer, now working near Tamil Nadu border. In October 2023, local police and activists intervened to stop her child marriage. The families agreed to delay it until she turned 18. 'But just two days later, my father took me to a temple of our village goddess, near Kolar in Karnataka. The wedding was conducted in the presence of a few relatives. From there, I was taken to Bengaluru, where I worked as a housemaid in a posh locality while my husband took up a job as a truck driver,' she shares. Within a month, she got pregnant. After she gave birth to a girl, her husband vanished without a word. She waited three months before returning to her parents' home in Chittoor. 'He came back a few months ago, promising he will never abandon us again. But I know, he is not just a drunkard but also a liar,' she says, her laughter tinged with resignation. In the Bangarupalem-Palamaner belt, considered a hotspot for child marriage, the Rural Organisation for Poverty Eradication Services (ROPES), a 35-year-old NGO, has intervened in several cases. 'Just in the last couple of years, we have stopped over 200 child marriages in these two mandals. The numbers are slowly falling compared to previous decades, but the threat still looms in silence,' says K. Dhanasekharan, chairman of the NGO. Data doesn't lie While the National Family Health Survey (2019-20) noted a modest drop in teenage pregnancies — from 8% to 7% — the Young Lives study painted a starker picture. In Telangana alone, 20% of women were married before the age of 18, and 28% had a child before they turned 19. Early marriage and motherhood continue to limit educational and economic prospects, though the overall trend is declining, note researchers. Among the younger cohort tracked by the study, 13% were married before 18 whereas 18% had become mothers by 19. The figures were higher among the older cohort (25% and 27%, respectively), suggesting gradual improvement over time. Some of that change is reflected in the trajectory of K. Mona, 31, who lives in a packed slum in northwest Hyderabad. A participant in the Young Lives study since 2002, Mona was just eight when her father died. With no government school nearby and her mother unable to afford private fees, her education ended in Class V. While her mother worked long hours as a domestic worker — leaving at 10 a.m. and returning after a 12-hour shift — Mona stayed home, read the Bible and dabbled in stitching. Her elder sisters, sent to relatives in Machilipatnam, managed to study further: one became a lecturer after completing her MBA, the other a teacher after earning a degree in engineering. Mona remained behind to help her mother and took up odd jobs, including at a local medical store, where she met her future husband, a driver. She got married at 20 and her husband, she says, remains her biggest support. With his encouragement, Mona completed her Class 10 through open schooling. 'I can read now. I understand English even if I can't speak or write. I help my children with their homework,' she says with quiet pride. Her seven-year-old son studies in a private school and wants to join the Army; her five-year-old daughter, who goes to the neighbourhood Anganwadi school, dreams of becoming a doctor. Sometimes, Mona wonders what her life might have been. 'If my father had lived, if there had been a school nearby... things would have been different,' she says, tears welling up. 'My sisters got chances that I didn't. It was not anyone's fault — just the place, the time, the options we had.' A different trajectory Just a few lanes away from her resides 22-year-old Jiya, another participant in the Young Lives study, enrolled when she was just a year old. Raised in the same slum as Mona, Jiya's journey has taken a different course, shaped by steady parental support, access to education and self-assured ambition. Her father, a local pastor, made it clear from the start: her education came first. Petite and poised, dressed in lavender trousers and a crisp white top, Jiya is a BSc (Mathematics) graduate from a private college in Hyderabad. Over the past few years, she has held two jobs — first at the help desk of Rajiv Gandhi International Airport in Hyderabad, then at a customer service firm in the city. As a child, she had wanted to be a teacher. By her teens, she was training to become an air hostess. She cleared two rounds of interviews with a Middle Eastern airline, only to be rejected in the final round for something as trivial as a pimple. 'It upset me, of course, but not enough to make me give up,' she says. She took up the help desk job in Hyderabad anyway, travelling four km by bus every day, dressed in a blazer and formals. 'I liked the work, but the pay — ₹17,000 a month — and the atmosphere weren't great. The men passed uncomfortable comments,' she says. With her parents' support, she chose to walk away and pursue higher studies instead. She continued her open degree alongside a year of air hostess training and later joined a call centre, earning over ₹20,000. But the night shifts triggered persistent migraines, forcing her to quit last month. Now, Jiya is preparing to join an IT firm. Marriage isn't on her mind just yet. 'Maybe in a few years,' she shrugs. 'If I find someone I want to share my life with, I will think about it. But for now, I am focused on work and stability.' Growth on paper, gaps on ground One of the key factors contributing to the shift in social practices, particularly the delay in early marriages, has been the growing presence of social welfare residential schools across both States. Andhra Pradesh currently has over 590 such schools under the Tribal Welfare Department; Telangana has 158. These fully residential institutions offer free meals, three times a day, along with education, which has encouraged parents from tribal and low-income communities to send their children, especially girls, to school. 'By the time a student completes school here, they are around 17 years old. That alone has significantly reduced the likelihood of marriage before 18,' says an official from the Andhra Pradesh Tribal Welfare Department. Economic indicators in both States show impressive growth. Andhra Pradesh recorded a Gross State Domestic Product (GSDP) growth of 12.94% in 2024, with balanced gains across agriculture, industry and services. Telangana followed with a GSDP growth of 10.1%, driven largely by industry and IT services. Yet, this economic momentum hasn't resulted in proportionate investment in social sectors. And until social development keeps pace with economic growth, the burden of inequality will continue to fall on the most vulnerable — young girls at the margins.
The Hindu
03-06-2025
- The Hindu
Madras High Court judge, wife visit litigant's bed-ridden father at home to ascertain his mental condition
In an unusual gesture, Justice G.R. Swaminathan of the Madras High Court and his wife Kamakshi, a special educator, visited a litigant's 83-year-old bed-ridden father at his residence to find out if the octogenarian was suffering from any mental ailment as claimed by his elder son. The judge decided to go to the man's house at Kodambakkam in Chennai after taking into account that his production before the court would cause immense physical inconvenience to him since he had suffered a stroke in 2021, lost his ability to speak, and was being tube- fed since then. Plea for appointment Justice Swaminathan took his wife along with him since she was experienced in dealing with mentally ill persons. The decision was taken at the hearing of a case filed by Sivakumar Chellathurai in 2023 for appointing him as the manager of his father P.K.M. Durai's properties and permit him to dispose them of. The petition had been filed under Clause 17 of the Letters Patent which confers parens patriae jurisdiction on the High Court in respect of 'minors, lunatics and idiots'. The judge said that though such expressions could not be employed any longer, they continue to find a place in the statute. Leaving that aside, the judge found that the litigant had also filed a sub- application for a direction to his mother Kousalya Devi and younger brother C. Sabari Kumar to take his father to a hospital for follow-up and review. The applicant had asserted his father was mentally ill. Two words To ascertain if the assertion was true, the judge's wife wrote the words 'hospital' and 'home' one below the other on a piece of paper and requested Mr. Durai to point out his preference. Due to the difficulty in motor coordination, the aged man initially touched the word 'hospital'. However, when the judge asked if he wished to be shifted to a hospital, the litigant's father began weeping. Immediately, Ms. Kamakshi wrote the words 'home' and 'hospital' on two sides of the paper and this time, Mr. Durai touched the word 'home' and indicated by gestures that he was comfortable at home. 'Due to his physical condition, he was drooling. Whenever he drooled, he took his handkerchief with the help of his left hand and wiped the saliva. Whenever he cried, he also used handkerchief to wipe his tears. From all this, I could come to a clear and categorical conclusion that Thiru. P.K.M. Durai was suffering only from serious physical debilities. But his mental condition was rather good. By no stretch of imagination can Thiru. P.K.M. Durai be called as a lunatic-cum-idiot,' Justice Swaminathan concluded. After holding a detailed interaction with the mother and the younger brother of the applicant, the judge found that they both had no objection to the applicant visiting their home to see his father. 'No merit in the application' 'I am of the clear view that what Thiru. P.K.M. Durai requires now is loving care. If he is shifted to hospital, he would definitely suffer from loneliness. He may be confined in ICU. If he is at home, he will be surrounded by his immediate family members. He will have the company of his grandchildren. The interests of Thiru. P.K.M. Durai are paramount and I am more satisfied that there is no merit in the application,' the judge wrote. Despite observing that the main case filed by the elder son was itself not maintainable, the judge refrained from dismissing it, since a senior counsel engaged by the litigants was not present before him.
The Hindu
03-06-2025
- The Hindu
Judge, wife visit litigant's bed-ridden father at home to find out his mental condition
In an unusual gesture, Justice G.R. Swaminathan of the Madras High Court and his wife Kamakshi, a special educator, visited a litigant's 83-year-old bed-ridden father at his residence to find out if the octogenarian was suffering from any mental ailment as claimed by his elder son. The judge decided to go to the man's house at Kodambakkam in Chennai after taking into account that his production before the court would cause immense physical inconvenience to him since he had suffered a stroke in 2021, lost his ability to speak, and was being tube- fed since then. Plea for appointment Justice Swaminathan took his wife along with him since she was experienced in dealing with mentally ill persons. The decision was taken at the hearing of a case filed by Sivakumar Chellathurai in 2023 for appointing him as the manager of his father P.K.M. Durai's properties and permit him to dispose them of. The petition had been filed under Clause 17 of the Letters Patent which confers parens patriae jurisdiction on the High Court in respect of 'minors, lunatics and idiots'. The judge said that though such expressions could not be employed any longer, they continue to find a place in the statute. Leaving that aside, the judge found that the litigant had also filed a sub- application for a direction to his mother Kousalya Devi and younger brother C. Sabari Kumar to take his father to a hospital for follow-up and review. The applicant had asserted his father was mentally ill. Two words To ascertain if the assertion was true, the judge's wife wrote the words 'hospital' and 'home' one below the other on a piece of paper and requested Mr. Durai to point out his preference. Due to the difficulty in motor coordination, the aged man initially touched the word 'hospital'. However, when the judge asked if he wished to be shifted to a hospital, the litigant's father began weeping. Immediately, Ms. Kamakshi wrote the words 'home' and 'hospital' on two sides of the paper and this time, Mr. Durai touched the word 'home' and indicated by gestures that he was comfortable at home. 'Due to his physical condition, he was drooling. Whenever he drooled, he took his handkerchief with the help of his left hand and wiped the saliva. Whenever he cried, he also used handkerchief to wipe his tears. From all this, I could come to a clear and categorical conclusion that Thiru. P.K.M. Durai was suffering only from serious physical debilities. But his mental condition was rather good. By no stretch of imagination can Thiru. P.K.M. Durai be called as a lunatic-cum-idiot,' Justice Swaminathan concluded. After holding a detailed interaction with the mother and the younger brother of the applicant, the judge found that they both had no objection to the applicant visiting their home to see his father. 'No merit in the application' 'I am of the clear view that what Thiru. P.K.M. Durai requires now is loving care. If he is shifted to hospital, he would definitely suffer from loneliness. He may be confined in ICU. If he is at home, he will be surrounded by his immediate family members. He will have the company of his grandchildren. The interests of Thiru. P.K.M. Durai are paramount and I am more satisfied that there is no merit in the application,' the judge wrote. Despite observing that the main case filed by the elder son was itself not maintainable, the judge refrained from dismissing it, since a senior counsel engaged by the litigants was not present before him.
