When a daughter is married abroad, she often goes with no safety net—only hope and faith
Dubai: There’s been a heartbreaking rise in suicide deaths among young Indian women who move abroad after getting married—often through arranged marriages—to men deemed “a catch.” The kind of men who hold foreign passports, earn in dollars or pounds, and seem like the ultimate prize on matrimonial lists.
This letter is deeply personal. My own sister got married through an arranged match to a wonderful Nambiar boy based in Boston. He was kind, well-educated, from a good family—and everything society says we should want for our daughters. Thankfully, her story has been one of love and partnership. But not every woman is that lucky.
For context: in most arranged marriages, parents do their best. They look for stability, education, respectability. But when a daughter is sent abroad, miles away from home and everything she knows, she often goes with no safety net—only hope.
My father, a quiet banker, did something extraordinary: he slipped my sister a credit card and enough money to buy a return ticket home—just in case. It was never spoken of, but we all knew what it meant. It was love in its most practical form.
But too many women go without that cushion. And when things go wrong—when there's emotional abuse, isolation, control, or worse—they have no way out. Some stay silent. Some break. And some don’t make it home at all.
This is not a critique of arranged marriages or of love. It’s a plea to shift our focus from fairy tales to real-world survival.
Dear parents—especially those marrying off their daughters to NRIs:
Please remind her that her man earning in dollars or pounds or yen is not worth her peace.
Let her keep her wedding gold with her—don’t insist she hand it over to her new family.
Out of all the gold chains she plans to wear on the big day, keep two aside — just for her. Call it her “rainy day” fund, or her invisible armour. She may never need it. But if she ever does, it could be the difference between feeling stuck and having a safe escape.
Give her her own bank account or actual cash in the foreign currency, her own phone, and a working plan B.
Let her know she can come home—without shame—if she needs to.
Don’t glorify suffering as sanskaar or being the good, cultured Indian wife.
Teach her self-worth over sacrifice.
Share helpline numbers, addresses of Indian/your homeland embassies, and local women’s groups that support abuse or trauma survivors.
And most importantly, tell her that if it doesn’t work out, she is not a failure.
We prepare our daughters so well to be good wives/mothers, good cooks, great cleaners, and great hosts. Let’s also prepare them to be safe, smart, and self-reliant women—because even the best-arranged matches come with no guarantees.
Give her roots. But give her wings too.
With love and urgency,
A loving sister
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