Marriage, the word itself, tolls a bell for many. For some, it sounds musical, while for others, it sets off alarms. Different people experience the institution of marriage in very different ways. Some get married at a very young age, perhaps under pressure from family members or under the influence of what we more commonly call love.

While others struggle to find a life partner. And there are others who, having wanted to taste the sugary "shadi ka ladoo," had a bitter relationship and decided to part ways against the promise of not just a single life-long relationship but 'janam-janam ka sath.' Then, some bear it with a pinch of salt every day for the sake of societal respect and acceptance.

Recently, there have been numerous cases that have garnered significant attention. One from Indore, another from Meerut, yet another from Begusarai, and then from Bhiwani. What made these marriages different is the chilling effect that one experiences after listening to the horrifying tales of their separation rather than union, love, and companionship.

Some of these marriages did not even last a few days. In fact, they point to the fact that human beings can become cold-blooded in their pursuit of self-interest, losing their basic human values despite their educational and economic background.

Upon examining what happened to Raja Raghuvanshi from Indore, one is left with several questions. The girl, who hails from a similar business family to Raja's, convinces him to go on a honeymoon trip to Meghalaya. What emerged from some newspaper reports is that Raja was reluctant but agreed to fulfil his wife Sonam's desire under family pressure, unaware of what would transpire. The destination was romantic, the tickets were booked, and the families gave their blessings. What no one knew was that only Sonam planned to return.

A few days into the trip, the couple disappeared. Later, Raja's body was discovered in a gorge. Sonam was found in UP's Ghazipur, claiming to have been drugged with no memory of how she reached there. But her story did not add up. Her mental state, allegedly fragile, only deepened the mystery.

As the investigation unfolded, it revealed a script more terrifying than fiction. She had been in a relationship with another man, Raj Khushwaha, who procured a SIM card, arranged the logistics, and allegedly plotted the murder. One-way tickets were just the beginning. Raja's murder was carefully planned and executed as if humanity did not exist.

The question that Sonam leaves unanswered is: why did she marry Raja? She could have refused to marry. What made her take steps that led to Raja's death is still a mystery.

This Indore case is not an isolated one. Such crimes have been occurring for quite some time. In fact, a similar murder happened 22 years ago, in 2003, when a law student, Shubha, got engaged to a Girish in Bengaluru. Two days after the engagement, Shubha got him killed with the help of her boyfriend. This was one of its kind at the time, sending shockwaves across the country.

Over the past few years, India has seen a spate of murders involving wives and their lovers conspiring to kill unsuspecting husbands. The patterns are chilling. The methods used were grotesque. And the emotional vacuums these stories expose within marriages, families, and modern love itself demand closer scrutiny.

In Bihar's Begusarai, 25-year-old Maheshwar Rai was reportedly murdered by his wife, Rani, over her social media activity. He had objected to her frequent Instagram reels and dance videos. That night, he was strangled and hanged. Locals allegedly tried to shift the body before the police arrived. His father grew suspicious when someone else answered Maheshwar's phone, bringing the case to the limelight.

Similar incidents of husbands killing wives over trivial matters have emerged in several places, including Kerala's Kollam. It is challenging to keep track of such cases. Many cases have been a result of an extra-marital affair or a mere suspicion. In others, trust and love, which have been the foundation of a relationship like marriage, seem to have lost their meaning when we examine such cases.

These are not just crime stories. They actually hold a mirror up to a society that is perhaps undergoing a significant transition in relationships, such as love and marriage. The traditional values of morality and loyalty are being increasingly questioned. The safety nets of emotional maturity, empathy, or institutional support are being increasingly shattered.

While the Indore case does raise a question: what purpose did the girl serve by marrying Raghuvanshi when she knew her heart belonged to another man? She could have avoided the marriage and done justice not only to her relationship with Kushwaha but also to Raghuvanshi, their family members, and all accused in the case. A few days of negotiation with her family could have served the purpose. In fact, she would perhaps have happily stayed with Kushwaha instead of facing the law.

Another thing that comes to mind is: has it become so easy to murder people rather than choosing to get out of relationships that are not working or saying no to a relationship that may not work for people?

In India, divorce is painful and legal but also has a stigma associated with it. Marriages are often viewed as sacred, permanent, and non-negotiable. In many cases, families pressure women to adjust rather than confront incompatibility.

Psychologists have observed a rise in emotional 'dysregulation' among young adults. Unable to process rejection, failure, or emotional discomfort, some lash out catastrophically. Love, instead of a bond, becomes a battle. Marriage, instead of refuge, becomes a trap. These cases also suggest that be it a man or a woman, domestic violence has transcended the traditional contours of gender.

These cases force us to acknowledge that men can also be victims of intimate partner violence—not just physically but emotionally and mentally. In these cases, they have even lost their lives. These men may not be perfect. We don't know their flaws. But we do know they didn't deserve to die like this. Nor did their family members deserve to go through this grief.

Love, once considered sacred, is increasingly turning performative. Social media photographs and reels often showcase a romance that is curated to suit the interest of the general public or family members, displaying emotions and outdated notions of duty, respect, and dignity. However, in reality, it has perhaps become a pressure cooker that could burst at any moment, rendering all such notions obsolete.

Such cases do raise a question about marriage as an institution. Should it remain intact as a forced acquisition, or should it be reinvented based on the current emotional and physical needs of people? And even if people wish to opt for or subscribe to the institution called marriage, should they be given the freedom to design the boundaries of their relationship rather than being imposed upon by traditional thoughts of janam-janam ka bandhan? Not only this, should people who wish to exit or come out of such a relationship be allowed to choose their own paths peacefully without stigma or financial ruin?

Raja, Saurabh, and many others may not have achieved great things in life, but they will remain etched in our memories for the ends that they perhaps were never meant to reach. They loved, they trusted, they planned futures. Their deaths must be remembered not just with outrage but with reflection. Something is deeply broken, not just in the perpetrators but in the society that shaped them.

Until we humanise relationships, de-stigmatise exits, and teach the emotional skills love or relationships demand, perhaps beginning at the school level, we will continue to read stories where romance turns into death, isolation, and grief. It is not love that kills. The silence, shame, and emotional illiteracy that surround marriage kill.