The Harsh Reality- The Link between Child Marriage and Human Trafficking

By Annika Somani

Trigger Warning: This article is a work of fiction and not based on events that have occurred. Any resemblance is coincidental. All character names and situations described in the article are not intended to hurt or disrespect anyone’s sentiments. 

So many of us young girls and women get to enjoy such a privileged life that we don’t have to live with the constant fear of being trafficked, but, that's not the case for all, is it? The reason is straightforward, human trafficking works in darkness. Wherever there is poverty, war/conflict and gender inequality, women’s and girls’ lives are exploited. Human trafficking is a heinous crime that is responsible for shattering multiple lives dreams and even families. 

Hi, my name is Lakshmi and this is my life-changing story, a documentation of sorts about the harsh human spirit and the dangerous shadows lurking in our world. I grew up in a traditional Indian household, where traditions and customs were taken to heart, to the extent that one’s dreams were crushed all because of the simple norm that you had to take after your parents. That meant that girls who got jobs would be frowned upon. Despite all this, I was quite eager to follow my dreams and create my path. I guess the devil’s game of fate had other plans for me. 

I don't think that I’ll ever forget the day when my parents told 12 year old me that they had been looking for a wealthy man to marry me and after five years of searching they had finally found the perfect match for me, a 29 years old stranger who went by the name of Vishnu. He talked about a life full of joy and luxury, promising to fulfil all my needs. 

I remember my last night in the village, I had grown up in. I cried tears of frustration and fright, realizing that I was no longer an ambitious, young determined girl who was determined to make her mark, instead, I had become a maid, no longer an individual but a piece of property sitting in someone’s bank. The cruel feeling of being a pawn in a king’s game stung. Worst, my parents were paying him a huge amount of money as a ‘dowry’ to marry me, turning my life into misery. 

Nothing could have prepared me for the cartridges and matches that lit fire to my skin. The beatings and slaps that turned my back shades of black and blue. The methods of tormentation they used varied from raping and other forms of sexual abuse to methods of physical abuse like hitting and beating, which scarred me, but I endured the suffering in quiet. Looking back I realise how ironic it is that I was named after the goddess of wealth, promised that by a man and yet I got exactly the opposite. My marriage was like a war zone in my eyes, surviving being the most important need above it all. 

The worst and most hurtful treatment fixated on me was by far, the seizure of my identity. I remember that even for the smallest mistakes like bringing water in the wrong glass, I was punished, and each caning was more painful. Confiding in my family was not even an option. My father passed away just two years after my marriage and my mother jumped into the flames because she could not live without him. Besides, even if they had been alive,

confiding in them would not even have been an option because they chose this life for me, they paid this brutal man money to marry me. 

After 5 merciless years, I became determined to free myself from my captors. I found solace in young girls my age who had gone through similar treatment. Every single word we whispered amongst ourselves added fuel to the burning fire inside us. We vowed to make our captors pay for capturing our lives. We began to memorise their routines, so that escape would be much less problematic. Fueled by desperation and a longing for freedom we made our move. Our hearts were thumping vigorously as we navigated the obstacles that stood in our way to freedom. The journey was filled with the major risk of being caught, but, our desperation to reclaim our identity overpowered all other thoughts. 

My story is one of survival against endless odds. All the scars and blood clots on my skin are going to be a part of me forever. They run on my flesh like tattoos and henna doodles. However, not all victims have happy endings. Not all victims are able to attempt escape, so many are yet out there struggling to live, suffering in silence and the only way to free them is to raise awareness, to give importance to complaints filed by family and friends, because every single second counts. Arriving at the scene, a second earlier could possibly save a life. I urge everyone to open their eyes, to see the deep dark reality of this world, to confront these cruel and unfair means that shatter lives everyday because child marriage and bride trafficking are only some of the deadly disease chains that are present everywhere including the heart of India, the country we call home.

By Annika Somani