Shielding Choice from Honour, Karnataka’s Landmark Anti-Honour Killing Bill
As Gujarat Proposes Parental Consent for Marriage Registration, Karnataka Takes the Opposite Path—Passing a Law That Explicitly States That Parental Consent Is Not Necessary Once Two Adults Choose to Marry
The Gujarat government recently proposed that couples who want to register their marriage would have to submit identity documents of their parents and declare that they have been kept informed. In contrast, the just-concluded Budget session of the Karnataka Legislature saw the passage of the Karnataka Freedom of Choice in Marriage and Prevention and Prohibition of Crimes in the Name of Honour and Tradition (Eva Nammava, Eva Nammava) Bill, 2026, which provides legal protection for couples in case of threats, violence or coercion from anyone, including their own family members.
The Bill pointedly states that “the consent of the person’s parents, family, caste or clan is not necessary once the two adult individuals agree to enter into a marriage.” This is not merely a legislative technicality. It is a fundamental assertion of individual autonomy—a declaration that the state will protect the right of adults to choose their life partners, even against their own families.
The Origin of the Bill
The debate about the need for a specific law to curb “honour”-related violence had gained traction in Karnataka following the gruesome killing of a pregnant 20-year-old by her father for marrying a Dalit man in the Inam Veerapur village in Hubballi taluk in north Karnataka in December 2025. According to statistics provided by Home Minister G. Parameshwara to the House, Karnataka has witnessed 15 hate crimes against couples over the past five years.
Each of these crimes represents a failure of the state to protect its citizens. Each represents a life cut short, a love destroyed, a family shattered. The Bill is an attempt to ensure that such failures are not repeated.
The Message of Eva Nammava
The phrase “Eva Nammava, Eva Nammava” in the title of the Bill harks back to a vachana of 12th-century philosophy-reformer Basavanna that roughly translates as “Do not ask ‘who is he, who is he, who is he?’/ Say ‘he is ours, he is ours, he is ours’.” It contains a message of inclusivity from a reformer whose decision to facilitate a marriage between a Dalit man and a Brahmin woman led to intense social turmoil and violence.
Basavanna was a revolutionary. He challenged the caste system, the rigidity of social norms, the idea that a person’s worth is determined by birth. He paid a price for his principles. But his message endured. Eight centuries later, it has been invoked to protect couples who face violence for choosing to love across caste lines. The irony is not lost: the same battles that Basavanna fought are still being fought today.
The Scope of the Problem
The Bill notes “an alarming increase in violence, harassment, threats, and social ostracism – often perpetrated in the name of caste hierarchy, honour, custom – being directed against individuals, especially young couples, who exercise their right to marry.” It notes that such crimes disproportionately affect women, who are subjected to patriarchal control over their choices, and men from marginalised communities.
The violence is not random. It is targeted. It is systematic. It is a form of social control designed to enforce caste and community boundaries. Women are told who they can marry. Men from lower castes are punished for aspiring to marry women from higher castes. The violence is not just physical; it is psychological, social, economic. It destroys lives even when it does not end them.
The Provisions of the Bill
The stated aim of the Bill is not only “to affirm and protect the liberty, dignity, and autonomy of all persons, to prevent crimes committed in the name of ‘honour’ and tradition,” but also “to provide legal safeguards, remedies, and institutional mechanisms for prevention, redressal, and rehabilitation.”
The Bill proposes penalties, including a minimum five-year prison sentence for killings in the name of “honour,” while criminalising social boycotts linked to such cases. It provides for institutional support for couples, including police protection within six hours of receiving a complaint, establishment of state-funded safe houses in every district, and access to legal aid and assistance from non-governmental organisations.
It proposes creating a special cell for the prevention of crimes in the name of “honour” with a 24-hour helpline, Eva Nammava Vedike, in all districts to facilitate solemnisation of marriages, provide counselling services, and offer other support.
These provisions are significant. The six-hour response time for police protection is a recognition that in cases of honour-related violence, speed is essential. A delay of hours can mean the difference between life and death. The safe houses are a recognition that couples fleeing violence need a place to go. The legal aid and NGO partnerships are a recognition that the state cannot do everything alone.
The Question of Implementation
The specific provisions envisaged for the protection of couples in inter-caste relationships facing ostracisation or violence are undoubtedly welcome. But the question of how effectively they will be implemented remains, considering that crimes against such couples have continued despite existing laws. This question is even more pertinent when the spirit of the times seems more inclined to caste consolidation than annihilation—evident not just in the way we choose or are allowed to choose our life partners, but also in the way candidates are picked by political parties and chosen to be in power by the electorate.
Laws are only as good as their implementation. India has had laws against dowry, against sati, against child marriage for decades. These practices continue. The question is whether the state has the will to enforce this law, whether the police will respond within six hours, whether the safe houses will be established and maintained, whether the courts will convict those who commit honour killings.
The Contradiction with Anti-Conversion Laws
Interestingly, while the new Bill to support inter-caste couples has been passed, Karnataka is yet to, despite Cabinet approval, roll back the controversial Karnataka Protection of Right to Freedom of Religion Act, 2022 (anti-conversion Act) ushered in by the previous Bharatiya Janata Party government. While this law has stringent provisions dealing with a gamut of issues related to conversion, cases across India illustrate how it comes into sharp focus in the case of interfaith marriages (dubbed “love jihad”).
This is a contradiction that cannot be ignored. The Eva Nammava Bill protects couples who marry across caste lines. It does not protect couples who marry across religious lines. For them, the anti-conversion law remains a threat. A Muslim man marrying a Hindu woman, or a Christian woman marrying a Hindu man, can still be accused of “love jihad.” Their marriage can still be investigated. Their freedom can still be curtailed.
Surely, consenting adults in interfaith relationships facing hostility and violence also deserve support. The logic that protects inter-caste couples should extend to interfaith couples. The principle that adults have the right to choose their partners should not depend on the religion of the partners.
The National Context
Karnataka’s law stands in sharp contrast to the direction being taken by other states. Gujarat’s proposed requirement that couples submit parents’ identity documents and declare that they have been kept informed is a step in the opposite direction. It assumes that parents have a right to know, a right to consent, a right to control. It treats adults as children who need parental permission to marry.
Uttar Pradesh, Madhya Pradesh, and other states have passed laws that effectively make interfaith marriage difficult, if not impossible. They have created a regime where love across religious lines is treated as a crime, where conversion is presumed fraudulent, where couples are separated and sometimes killed.
Karnataka has chosen a different path. It has chosen to affirm individual autonomy, to protect couples from violence, to provide institutional support for those who choose to marry across caste lines. It is a significant step forward.
The Way Forward
The Eva Nammava Bill is a welcome step. It affirms a fundamental principle: that adults have the right to choose their life partners, and that the state will protect them when that choice is threatened. It provides institutional mechanisms to make that protection real.
But the work does not end with the passage of the Bill. The Bill must be implemented. The police must be trained. The safe houses must be built. The helplines must be staffed. The courts must convict. And the contradiction with the anti-conversion law must be resolved.
The spirit of Basavanna—the message of “Eva Nammava”—is a message of inclusion. It is a message that rejects the divisions of caste, community, and religion. It is a message that affirms that every person is “ours.” That message should extend to all couples, regardless of caste or religion.
Q&A: Unpacking Karnataka’s Anti-Honour Killing Bill
Q1: What is the Karnataka Freedom of Choice in Marriage and Prevention and Prohibition of Crimes in the Name of Honour and Tradition (Eva Nammava, Eva Nammava) Bill, 2026?
A: The Bill provides legal protection for couples facing threats, violence, or coercion from anyone, including their own family members, for choosing to marry. It explicitly states that “the consent of the person’s parents, family, caste or clan is not necessary once the two adult individuals agree to enter into a marriage.” It was passed following the December 2025 killing of a pregnant 20-year-old by her father for marrying a Dalit man in Hubballi. Karnataka has witnessed 15 hate crimes against couples in the past five years.
Q2: What is the significance of the phrase “Eva Nammava, Eva Nammava” in the Bill’s title?
A: The phrase is from a 12th-century vachana by philosopher-reformer Basavanna, roughly translating as “Do not ask ‘who is he, who is he, who is he?’/ Say ‘he is ours, he is ours, he is ours’.” Basavanna facilitated a marriage between a Dalit man and a Brahmin woman, leading to intense social turmoil and violence. The invocation of his message connects the Bill to a centuries-old struggle against caste hierarchy and social exclusion.
Q3: What are the key provisions of the Bill?
A: The Bill proposes a minimum five-year prison sentence for honour killings; criminalisation of social boycotts linked to such cases; police protection within six hours of receiving a complaint; state-funded safe houses in every district; access to legal aid and NGO assistance; and a special cell with a 24-hour helpline (Eva Nammava Vedike) in all districts to facilitate marriages and provide counselling services. The six-hour response time is designed to prevent violence before it occurs.
Q4: What is the contradiction between this Bill and Karnataka’s anti-conversion Act?
A: The Eva Nammava Bill protects couples who marry across caste lines but does not protect couples who marry across religious lines. The Karnataka Protection of Right to Freedom of Religion Act, 2022 (anti-conversion Act), passed by the previous BJP government, remains in force despite Cabinet approval for its rollback. This law has been used to target interfaith marriages (dubbed “love jihad”), creating a contradictory legal framework where the state protects inter-caste couples but still scrutinises interfaith couples. The author argues that the logic protecting inter-caste couples should extend to interfaith couples.
Q5: What challenges remain for implementation and for the broader fight against honour-based violence?
A: Implementation is a major challenge. Crimes against inter-caste couples have continued despite existing laws. The state must ensure police respond within six hours, safe houses are established and maintained, and courts convict offenders. More broadly, the spirit of the times seems more inclined to caste consolidation than annihilation—evident in political candidate selection, electoral behaviour, and social norms. The Bill is a significant step forward, but it must be implemented effectively, and the contradiction with anti-conversion laws must be resolved. The message of inclusion that inspired the Bill should extend to all couples, regardless of caste or religion. The Bill’s provisions are welcome, but their effectiveness will depend on political will, police training, and judicial commitment.
