There's a growing debate to raise the legal marriage age for girls from 18 to 21 in India, yet Hyderabad is witnessing a different trend. In select Muslim-majority areas, Sheikh Marriages are taking place. Wealthy but elderly Sheikhs from the Gulf countries come here for short-term marriages, driven by various reasons for seeking younger brides.
These brief unions, lasting days to months, prize the virgin and beautiful girls as the real gems, commanding the highest price.
Girls once caught in the cycle of Sheikh Marriages seldom escape. One marriage agent defends: 'When mothers themselves want their daughters to be sold, what can we do? Besides, there isn’s significant harm. The family survives with it!'
Pointing towards the passing girls, the agent claims, 'See them? A call to their mothers and I could have them here within an hour. At present, I have about a hundred girls under my control.' He speaks with a chilling, flat voice.
Read the first narrative here:
Don’t you fear doing wrong? The question slips out uninvited.
'I do, sometimes. That’s why I help folks like you now and then. But swear, I never marry off very young girls. Only when they start menstruating do I consider them.' He tries to absolve himself of guilt as he guided us around Hyderabad for the next two days, explaining why Sheikh Marriages aren’t as terrible as perceived.
Source: aajtak
The first encounter was with Shabana. She has a daughter from a 15-day Sheikh Marriage, who calls her sister (baji).
It had been about six months since my periods began when one day my uncle brought some Sheikh uncle home. I had just returned from school. The uncle called me over, placed me on his lap, and tickled me endlessly. He kept visiting every day. At night, as I slept, he watched over me, gifting me little tokens as he left. Before long, we were married.
A long car saw my farewell, with my aunt accompanying. We reached a grand hotel, with doormen at the gates. We didn’t have to touch the car doors. Being young, I was convinced that Uncle was the best thing. For the first time, I received new clothes and jewelry not even during Eid, and my favorite foods. By evening, we were in the hotel room. A large room adjoining a smaller one.
The aunt went to the smaller room. I stayed with Uncle in the larger room, meant to remain with him as Mom had stated at home. Soon, Uncle began touching me. I lay with my eyes shut. The touching intensified. Terrified, I opened my eyes and fled to my aunt’s room, crying. She kept sending me back, and I kept returning in tears.
By morning, Sheikh Uncle was furious. He called someone shortly afterward. Mom and Dad stood at the doorway. Mom scolded me - 'He’s your husband. Don’t stop him. Endure whatever he does.' In the next room, Dad pleaded. Then, they both left with Aunt, leaving me at the hotel with Sheikh Uncle.
I stayed in that hotel room with Sheikh Uncle for the next fifteen days.
Meals arrived there. Water was brought. Aunt had left, with no one to stop Sheikh Uncle, my supposed husband. I cried in Urdu; he yelled in Arabic.
Source: aajtak
After days of enduring rape, I fell gravely ill. Sheikh Uncle was in a different mood that day, refraining from touching me. We went to a clinic. After the consultation, he sent me home. The suitcase filled with new jewelry and clothes was left at the hotel. That was our last meeting. Dad and brother even went to the hotel but found the room vacated. We had no trace of him. Uncle was queried, but he too shrugged it off.
I stayed home for some days before returning to school. Life felt normal again, even the days with Sheikh Uncle seemed to fade. One day, I began vomiting. Mom attributed it to poor digestion and served light meals, but the nausea persisted, coupled with a low fever. Aunt was visiting then. She voiced what nobody had considered - 'Could she be pregnant?'
Did you know what pregnancy meant?
I heard the term for the first time, but having experienced so much in those fifteen days, I realized something was wrong. Mom wept intensely. 'She’s a young child; abort the baby,' she repeatedly told the doctor, who rejected the idea. Things had progressed too far. 'Her life is at risk,' the doctor warned directly.
Upon returning from the hospital, I was locked in a room. 'You’ll stay here now. No school, no playing, no outings.' Mom oscillated between anger and tears as she spoke, terrifying me. It felt like a pit had formed beneath, with no beginning or end, and I was falling. This nightmare crept into my dreams as well, leaving me unable to cry or speak when pain came.
I had a daughter, but there was no milk, nor the desire to hold her.
Lying in the room, I overheard plans to leave her at an orphanage. Fortunately, my brother and sister-in-law intervened and adopted her. She’s growing now. Like my younger sisters, she calls me sister (baji). I tried once or twice to reclaim her, but everyone deterred me.
Source: aajtak
You didn’t marry again?
No. In those fifteen days, the woman in me aged beyond Sheikh Uncle. Just the thought of marriage terrified me. Initially, Mom hoped, but Dad, being devout, firmly said no. I neither had a divorce nor was given an annulment. Married even if for fifteen days. But many girls don't stop. Their occupation is Sheikh Marriages now. Shabana dusts unseen dirt from her clothes, her vacant eyes reflect a snuffed-out inner coal.
The agent reiterates the same. 'Not one or two, but many girls marry 20-30 times, building homes from this. They acquire cars. And if they have children, they raise them too.'
We head to Shaheen Nagar to meet such a family.
Faced with interconnected homes and bubbling drains, doors curtained with dupattas, children speeding on bikes, and girls in burqas roaming. From a household with four daughters, one recently returned from a Sheikh Marriage. At our call, she emerges. Tall, elegant, red as Kashmiri apples, with hair like sprinkled golden shavings.
When did you come back to your parents'?
Her mother replies - 'Just today.' The girl's lips twitch slightly, but she remains quiet.
Where did she marry?
'Here. Nearby.'
Where exactly?
'Here, not too far.' The mother gestures towards her daughter - 'Go make tea. Or perhaps you prefer something cold!'
The golden-haired girl rises, walking with a slight limp, supported by another girl. Catching our eyes, the mother announces - 'Four daughters. Husband drives an auto. No other support.'
What is the age of your eldest daughter?
'About seventeen. Turning eighteen soon. The second one will be married next.'
And her age?
'Similar, she's grown up.'
The grown-up second daughter sits nearby, with weary eyes on a fragile face. Adjusting her slipping dupatta, she's sent inside too. Now, the mother sits alone, lamenting poverty and compulsion.
Have you considered Sheikh Marriages for your daughters? We probe.
'People do it out of necessity. What else can they do?' Her answer is evasive.
Source: aajtak
Did you have your eldest daughter enter a Sheikh Marriage?
Ignoring our question entirely, she retreats inside. Returning, her face claims business. We exit. The agent is waiting outside the alley. He says, 'I arranged the elder daughter's marriage, and I am preparing for the second. Their demand is just higher.'
But the mother didn’t answer the Sheikh Marriage question!
'Why would she, madam? She fears if they fall into trouble, the future will be closed. These people are seasoned. Look at this alley; every third house runs on this work. In other areas, they build massive homes and live here on rent. I’ve arranged numerous marriage agreements myself.'
The agent’s words carry weight. As we navigate through Old Hyderabad’s pockets, people pause to converse with him, whispering or leading him to quieter spots. Photos are exchanged over phone calls. Whispering terms like 'Sheikh' and 'Umaran' float in the air.
Our next stop is a five-story house, where on the top floor resides a mother arranging Sheikh Marriages for her daughter.
As we ascend the steep stairs, they become less challenging. On the open rooftop, a swing hangs, and a Kashmiri carpet is spread below. The agent tells us to wait here before leaving. Within minutes, the mother appears before us.
A barely forty-year-old looking woman, this mother has had her daughter undergo Sheikh Marriages multiple times. We go straight to the point.
How old was your daughter at her first marriage?
About two years into her periods. Perhaps sixteen.
Do you know what Sheikh Marriage entails?
Yes.
Then why did you have to get her married like this?
Eyes hidden behind a veil now appear angry - 'Is there any compulsion other than helplessness that would make a mother hurl her womb-born into this? Then her voice steadies - No backing ahead or behind. Divorced from the husband. Two daughters. Household expenses. What could I do? A broker advised this would yield good money, so I agreed.'
Source: aajtak
How much money did you get?
Two and a half lakhs the first time. The rest went to arrangers.
Which country did your daughter travel to?
Her husband was in Oman. Stayed here at a hotel first and then took her along. We thought it might work out. Most Sheikhs settle matters here in hotels. But he took her.
We believed her fortunes had risen. Watched Oman’s pics on mobile, but she was often absent. Forced a video call. Eyes puffed, face darkened, as if an older woman. When asked, she cried. They wanted a maid more than a wife.
No fix schedule for sleeping over 24 hours. Called anytime. Clean, wash, cook, and tend to the other wives’ children. Then serve the Sheikh at his whim. Daughter kept sobbing - 'Mom, save me or I'll die.'
Called the agent in Hyderabad. Learned they demanded five lakhs to return her.
Why five? You paid two and a half.
For passport, visa, ticket, stay, food, new clothes, they had every account ready. I’d spent the given money too. Where could I fetch five lakhs from? I shed tears joining my daughter’s. Maybe their investment settled after three months. Put together some cash to bring her back.
Where is your daughter now?
Silence.
Is she home?
No, she’s in Riyadh. It’s a marriage, different from the rest. Together for months now. Work exists, but not a 24-hour maid. The husband isn’t too old either.
How old would he be?
Somewhere between 40-45. The eyes within the veil shift around.
Would you have a Sheikh Marriage for the younger daughter as well?
No, but who can predict fate? The one Above controls it all (gesturing upwards).
Is this house yours? I finally ask the mother lamenting fate sitting on the cushiony new carpet.
'Yes. Lower floors are rented out.' A slight embarrassment, yet her tone stays steady.
Source: aajtak
Under the guise of marriage, girls in India are sent to Gulf countries for sexual slavery, becoming concurrent household help. 'Two-in-One.' This term comes from a woman Fatima in Wattapalli, who returned from Dubai on broken feet.
She narrates - 'I went for maid work, but the Sheikh troubled me. Alone, he would corner me. The room couldn’t be locked. Slept with old trunk and table blocking, yet always fearful. It was 2021! Around Ramadan, when Sheikh traveled to America. Alone with his sons. After much crying, I was left at a sister’s place. Barely days before one son fetched me. 'There's a lot of work; nothing will happen.'
Without a passport, money, or company, I went back in silence. The first night, something clattered. That same son was at the door. Running upstairs, I reached the third-floor open terrace. The boy coaxed - 'Come down, it’s okay.' I screamed. He pushed me.
Even as I fell through the air, I thanked Almighty. Metal rods in both legs, part of the belly pushed out, but life was spared. Fatima reiterated. Her voice calm, leaving me skeptical. Would she show her leg scars - I ask abruptly.
Without hesitation, she reveals her garb. Deep marks where rods were set on torn legs. A hollow belly from half-torn flesh. Eyes read my doubt, explaining - Stayed in the hospital for three months. Sheikh had returned. He managed medical care. Gave a ticket to send home. The compensation case is ongoing.
And the molestation case?
No. Filing such would invite disgrace.
Did the Sheikh force himself as well?
She replies vaguely - 'What can I say...I was married. When a lion sees a goat, the hunger strikes.' A deep breath as she adjusts her garments.
