There’s a strange tenderness that shows up sometimes in the darkest places. Hostages defend their captors. Victims say, “He wasn’t that bad.” Prisoners form emotional bonds with the very people who hurt them.
We call it Stockholm Syndrome — a survival response where fear slowly twists into attachment. And while it sounds like something out of a crime thriller, it exists painfully close to home.
In parts of India, it shows up in one of the most unsettling wedding traditions anyone could imagine. It’s called Pakadwa Vivah. And once you see how it works, Stockholm Syndrome suddenly stops feeling abstract.
The Wedding nobody agreed to
Pakadwa Vivah, or groom kidnapping, has been reported for decades across Western Bihar and parts of Eastern Uttar Pradesh. On the surface, it looks like a wedding. Music. Rituals. Sacred fire. Family gathered. Underneath, it’s a crime scene. Here’s the brutal logic behind it.
Dowry expectations in some regions are still crushing. Families wanting a high-status groom — a government officer, engineer, or doctor — are expected to pay sums running into tens of lakhs, money most families simply don’t have.
So some turn to gangs. Instead of paying twenty to eighty lakh in dowry, they pay a fraction of that to abduct a groom. The boy is usually lured by someone he trusts — a relative, a friend, a neighbor. He’s invited for a meal, a celebration, a casual visit. Then he’s ambushed, beaten if he resists, and dragged into a forced ceremony. Viral clips have shown grooms crying openly while being shoved toward the mandap, hands shaking as rifles hover nearby.
He’s dressed up. Garlanded. Made to sit beside a stranger. And then, under threat, forced to marry.
A wedding born from fear.
Then why do some of them stay?
Many of these men don’t run once it’s over. Some even settle into the marriage. This isn’t romance. This is coercion slowly becoming emotional dependence. The groom is told, “If you leave, the girl’s life will be destroyed,” or “She will be cursed forever,” or “You will be responsible if she ends her life,” or “You have already married her. Be a man.”
Communities shame him. Parents plead. Priests bless the union. Over days and months, something inside him shifts. He stops thinking like a victim and starts thinking like a caretaker. This shift is exactly what psychologists describe in Stockholm Syndrome.
You depend on the very system that broke you.
You attach to the cage because escaping feels impossible.
You find ways to justify what happened, just to stay sane.
Slowly and gradually, violence becomes a memory, memory becomes a narrative, and narrative becomes “fate.” And then everyone pretends it was always meant to be.
A real turning point, when the courts finally stepped in.
For years, thousands of such kidnappings were reported annually. Many more never reached police records. That began to crack in November 2023, when the Patna High Court delivered a landmark judgement: “A marriage performed under fear or physical threat is not valid.”
Rituals under coercion, the court said, are rituals stripped of consent.
The ruling didn’t magically erase trauma. Men still fear backlash. Families still worry about social stigma. Women trapped in these forced marriages suffer their own silent battles — often blamed, often unheard. But the legal message mattered. Forced love is not love, and forced marriage is not a marriage. For the first time, there was a formal exit door.
The human cost nobody talks about
We often talk about Pakadwa Vivah as a strange social quirk. Something to joke about. Something “typical of Bihar.” There’s nothing funny about it. The groom loses dignity, agency, and trust. Many live with anxiety, anger, and quiet resentment. Some develop depression. Their education or careers derail. Their relationships with parents fracture.
The bride pays a cost, too. Society paints her either as a victim or a conspirator. Her entire worth becomes tied to a marriage that began with violence. She is expected to “adjust” no matter how broken things feel inside the house. And both families remain trapped inside a lie.
The community pretends.
The priest pretends.
The law pretended… until recently.
Stockholm Syndrome is a survival strategy, not a love story. When people say, “But they’re happy now… see?” I always pause. Happiness born from fear is adaptation. Humans are wired to survive. When escape looks dangerous, the brain rewrites the story: “He saved me,” “She had no choice,” “Maybe they meant well,” “Maybe I deserved this.” This emotional alignment protects the psyche, but at a high cost — the truth dissolves, and real consent disappears.
This isn’t just about one bizarre custom. It forces us to ask deeper questions about how society handles power, patriarchy, shame, and control.
Why are young men still afraid to report?
Why do families see kidnapping as cheaper than dowry?
Why is marriage treated as a transaction and not a partnership?
Why do we normalize trauma if it ends in rituals?
Because the truth is simple. If love requires fear, if commitment requires a gun, if marriage requires manipulation, it isn’t a marriage.
Stockholm Syndrome reminds us how deeply our minds want safety — even if it means calling chains “home.” And Pakadwa Vivah shows us what happens when society quietly approves those chains.
The question is not whether people could “adjust.”
The question is:
Should anyone ever have to?
References:
- https://www.ndtv.com
- Stockholm Syndrome | Research Starters
- Exploring the Dynamics of Pakadua Vivah, “Groom Kidnapping.”