India, a secular and democratic country, built on the promise of equality and justice for all, has long strived to turn those constitutional ideals into reality. Gender equality in particular has remained at the heart of this pursuit, an essential step toward uplifting every marginalised group. To this end, the Hindu Code Bill has undergone several reforms despite facing resistance by conservatives. Muslim personal law, however, has largely remained untouched, shielded in the name of religious freedom and minority rights. This selectiveness, often justified as respect for diversity, has quietly allowed inequality to persist.
While the Hindu Marriage Act of 1955 made polygamy illegal and a criminal offence for Hindus, Muslims in India are still legally permitted to practise it, a reality that sits uneasily within a modern, constitutional democracy.
Now, Assam has taken a decisive step toward changing that. On 9 November, the state government approved a draft bill to ban polygamy, proposing penalties of up to seven years in prison for those who violate the law. It also announced the creation of a compensation fund for women who may face economic or social hardship as a result of the ban. While I am really happy, the move carries a deeper question that bothers me: Why has it taken us this long to confront such inequality that exists not in the shadows, but within the legal framework?
Every single time a law or custom that keeps women unequal is put under the microscope, the conversation collapses into the same old charge: ‘It’s not justice, it’s about targeting a community’. That charge has become a reflex: Oppose change, call it an attack, and the debate stops. But ask yourself this plainly—if insisting that women be treated with equal dignity is “targeting,” then perhaps every community ought to be “targeted” until equality is universal.
We cannot let tradition become a shield for injustice. Societies change: We use new medicines, new technologies, new ideas to make life better. Why then do some still insist that women be governed by customs that lock them into second-class lives? Progress is not an assault on culture; it is the painful, necessary work of making culture live up to its highest claims—justice, dignity and fairness for all. If reform is labelled offensive the moment it asks uncomfortable questions, then we have surrendered moral progress to fear.
Also read: How elite medieval Rajputs ignored Hindu laws to practice polygamy
Principle, not politics
As a Muslim woman, I feel this even more deeply. Our leaders—and we as a society—should feel a deep sense of shame that the state had to step in because we refused to act.
The pain, the injustice, the humiliation faced by women within the community should have been addressed by our own moral conscience long ago. Instead, we looked away, silenced dissent in the name of tradition/culture, and called it protection of identity. And now, when the state finally moves to correct what we would not, we say it’s politics, not justice. Perhaps the real politics lies in our own silence, in the comfort of doing nothing while half of our community keeps paying the price.
I have criticised Assam Chief Minister, Himanta Biswa Sarma, for some of his remarks, but as a Pasmanda Muslim woman, I can only feel gratitude for this step. I congratulate him, not as a political supporter, but as a woman who has finally been seen by the law. I believe this measure should become a model for every state in India.
It’s telling that some people are already calling it a step toward the BJP’s agenda of a Uniform Civil Code, as if equality before law is something sinister. Why should it be controversial to demand one set of civil laws for all Indian women, where everyone is treated with the same fairness and dignity the Constitution promises?
I suggest that other political parties, especially those that proudly call themselves secular, progressive, and champions of women’s rights should take this as an example. Congress and other parties that claim to represent the secular and progressive space need to take a hard look at this moment and learn something from it. For years, they have spoken about women’s rights, justice, and equality, but words alone no longer hold power. Even Kerala High Court, under a Communist government, has at least tried to move in the right direction through reconciling faith and constitution
Because here’s the truth, rhetoric doesn’t liberate anyone. Speeches don’t change lives. If you are not willing to stand by the very values you claim to represent, how do you expect people to still believe in you? If a BJP-led state can take this step, what’s stopping those who have built their politics on the language of equality and empowerment?
This is about more than politics, it’s about principle. If we truly care about justice, equality, and the promise of our Constitution, then every measure that empowers women should be celebrated, not politicised. Assam is making a small step, but it carries a loud and clear message. As a Muslim woman, I hope this sparks not just applause, but action across communities, across parties, across India.
Amana Begam Ansari is a columnist and writer. She runs a weekly YouTube show called ‘India This Week by Amana and Khalid’. She tweets @Amana_Ansari. Views are personal.
(Edited by Theres Sudeep)