<p>Honour killings have long been associated, in public perception, with pockets of northern India, often dismissed as a reflection of a regressive social order alien to the South. </p><p>That illusion no longer holds. Karnataka’s Home Minister G Parameshwara has disclosed that the state has recorded at least 15 honour killing cases between 2021 and 2025, a reminder that caste and patriarchal anxieties cut across geography. </p><p>The most recent instance is the murder in Hubballi of 19-year-old Manya Patil, who married a Dalit man, by her own father and relatives. It is not an isolated incident. That such crimes persist in a state that prides itself on its progressiveness is a deep moral failure. It is also an irony that cannot be ignored: the land of Basavanna, who preached equality and the idea of <em>iva nammava </em>(he is ours), continues to witness killings in the name of exclusion. </p><p>This grim reality has prompted the Siddaramaiah government to introduce the Karnataka Freedom of Choice in Marriage and Prohibition of Crimes in the Name of Honour and Tradition Bill, 2026, popularly called the Iva Nammava Bill. The legislation is notable for placing individual autonomy at the centre of marriage while specifically addressing honour crimes.</p>.<p>Nationally, too, the problem remains deeply entrenched, and official data often underestimates and differs significantly from reports by civil society and human rights organisations. Historically, states such as Uttar Pradesh account for the highest number of reported honour killings, while Madhya Pradesh, Jharkhand, Punjab and Haryana also figure prominently. In Tamil Nadu, even when official data records “zero” cases, independent groups have documented nearly 200 incidents over a five-year period. The persistence of these killings across regions highlights a structural issue: the collision between Constitutional rights and deeply embedded social norms.</p>.<p>However, the real test lies not in new laws but in prosecution. No matter how progressive a law may be, it will remain symbolic if investigations are weak, trials delayed, and convictions uncertain. Swift, certain punishment is the only credible deterrent. At the same time, Karnataka must draw upon its own intellectual and moral traditions. Poet laureate Kuvempu’s philosophy of Vishwa Manava calls for transcending caste and religious identity, envisioning a society where humanity is the primary bond. His ideal of <em>Sarva janangada shantiya thota</em>—a garden of peace for all communities—offers a powerful counterpoint to the violence of honour killings. If Karnataka is to realise this inclusive vision articulated by Basavanna and Kuvempu, it cannot remain captive to inherited prejudices. Laws can punish crimes, but only a deeper social transformation—rooted in equality, dignity and Constitutional morality—can prevent them.</p>
<p>Honour killings have long been associated, in public perception, with pockets of northern India, often dismissed as a reflection of a regressive social order alien to the South. </p><p>That illusion no longer holds. Karnataka’s Home Minister G Parameshwara has disclosed that the state has recorded at least 15 honour killing cases between 2021 and 2025, a reminder that caste and patriarchal anxieties cut across geography. </p><p>The most recent instance is the murder in Hubballi of 19-year-old Manya Patil, who married a Dalit man, by her own father and relatives. It is not an isolated incident. That such crimes persist in a state that prides itself on its progressiveness is a deep moral failure. It is also an irony that cannot be ignored: the land of Basavanna, who preached equality and the idea of <em>iva nammava </em>(he is ours), continues to witness killings in the name of exclusion. </p><p>This grim reality has prompted the Siddaramaiah government to introduce the Karnataka Freedom of Choice in Marriage and Prohibition of Crimes in the Name of Honour and Tradition Bill, 2026, popularly called the Iva Nammava Bill. The legislation is notable for placing individual autonomy at the centre of marriage while specifically addressing honour crimes.</p>.<p>Nationally, too, the problem remains deeply entrenched, and official data often underestimates and differs significantly from reports by civil society and human rights organisations. Historically, states such as Uttar Pradesh account for the highest number of reported honour killings, while Madhya Pradesh, Jharkhand, Punjab and Haryana also figure prominently. In Tamil Nadu, even when official data records “zero” cases, independent groups have documented nearly 200 incidents over a five-year period. The persistence of these killings across regions highlights a structural issue: the collision between Constitutional rights and deeply embedded social norms.</p>.<p>However, the real test lies not in new laws but in prosecution. No matter how progressive a law may be, it will remain symbolic if investigations are weak, trials delayed, and convictions uncertain. Swift, certain punishment is the only credible deterrent. At the same time, Karnataka must draw upon its own intellectual and moral traditions. Poet laureate Kuvempu’s philosophy of Vishwa Manava calls for transcending caste and religious identity, envisioning a society where humanity is the primary bond. His ideal of <em>Sarva janangada shantiya thota</em>—a garden of peace for all communities—offers a powerful counterpoint to the violence of honour killings. If Karnataka is to realise this inclusive vision articulated by Basavanna and Kuvempu, it cannot remain captive to inherited prejudices. Laws can punish crimes, but only a deeper social transformation—rooted in equality, dignity and Constitutional morality—can prevent them.</p>
