From Manusmriti to Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita: What Ancient Laws Teach Us About Justice for Women

While ancient law was brutal and unstructured, it did guarantee justice. We are not asking for a world filled with anarchy and chaos; all we demand is a justice system that believes in urgency and effectiveness. From the Manusmriti’s guardianship to POSH’s protective armor, as well as Arthashastra’s swift enforcement, to BNS’s expanded protection, the Indian justice system reflects both progress and paradox.

Imagine this, a man loses two fingers for wrongly touching a maiden and and if he commits an assault, he is thrown onto a red-hot iron bed until he burns alive. This is not a fictional cautionary tale, but an actual punishment once prescribed and actively practiced in ancient India for assaulting a woman. If ancient codes like the Manusmriti demanded immediate justice and public punishment, what does it say about our modern legal system, which struggles to secure even convictions?

Ancient law treated crimes as it was and did not go into verbose paperwork, allowing criminals to make way for a faux case of innocence. Although texts such as the Arthashastra and Manusmriti viewed women as inferior beings, they did not compromise on delivering justice for them.

We are the largest democracy in the world, with myriads of acts and provisions such as the Prevention of Sexual Harassment Act, Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita and the Domestic Violence Act aimed at addressing crimes against women. Yet the numbers remain grim- every hour, around 51 FIRs are filed for crimes against women. In 2022 alone, India recorded a staggering 4,45,256 such cases, according to the latest NCRB data. This forces us to question the system’s efficiency- Why is a victim left to face the arduous procedures of justice while the accused enjoys the presumption of innocence?

Amid these questions, it is striking to look back at our ancient past, not to glorify a bygone era but to rediscover the urgency of punishment for crimes as heinous as sexual assault and rapes.  The perpetrators were punished immediately because they were advocates of the view that justice delayed is justice denied. Crowded courtrooms, lengthy court dates, and unresolved complaints occupied no space in the justice system of ancient India.

Though often criticized for its patriarchal view and condescending opinion about women, the Manu Smriti propagates immediate justice to victims and survivors of rape and sexual violence. It states “योऽकामां दूषयेत् कन्यां स सद्यो वधमर्हति ।सकामां दूषयंस्तुल्यो न वधं प्राप्नुयान्नरः ॥ ३६४ ॥, which, when translated, states that crimes such as forcible violation of an unwilling maiden would account for a penalty, nothing less than immediate death.  The text also mentions mutilation as a punishment. Provisions such as cutting off the private parts of a man who violates an unwilling woman were not an uncommon phenomenon, but something that was highly practiced.

Our legal system does account for severe punishment for criminals accused of rape, but the creation of statutes merely on paper often results in a lack of terror. According to a report on “Crime in India” by NCRB, it stated that while the rate of cases pending remained as high as 96%, the conviction rates in the year 2022 remained at an all-time low at 25.3%.

This data is evidence of a justice system where justice seems to be on the back burner. The reasons for these convictions and high pendency rates remain rooted in issues of a lack of forensic capabilities, with a dearth of modern equipment and a lack of staff. Further, inefficient police investigation due to lack of trained individuals as well as scarcity of resources ultimately leads to a poorly filed charge sheet, defeating the whole purpose of the provision of justice. Instead, the victim is blamed. Blame is attached to what a girl was wearing, what time of the day it was when the crime took place, and the assumption that “she was asking for it.” This is where we as a community go wrong. It is appalling that even crimes like sexual assault make room for opinions. This ethical dilemma has readily settled in the everyday lives of women because society has normalized it.  

Nevertheless, this problematic viewpoint never occupied space in ancient India. The Manusmriti and other ancient scriptures do not automatically blame the victim of sexual assault. For instance, the Matsyapurāṇa explicitly states that if a man “defiles a woman forcibly, there is no blame attaching to the woman,” and the perpetrator should be punished with death. This demonstrates a judicial distinction between a willing participant and an unwilling victim, suggesting a nuanced understanding of criminal responsibility.

Over centuries of colonial and post-colonial transformation, the Indian Republic has introduced statutes aimed at ensuring safer living spaces for women. Laws such as the PoSH Act, the Domestic Violence Act, and most recently, the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita represent targeted legal interventions. Yet, while a lawless world invites chaos, a world overflowing with laws but lacking results is no less dangerous—it becomes a threat in disguise. What we need is a modern echo of ancient decisiveness, but without bypassing the due process of law.

Take the example of dowry, a social evil that continues to plague contemporary India. In practice, it is often disguised as a harmless ritual of exchanging “gifts.” This rebranding, however, does little to address the grim reality of thousands of dowry-related deaths each year. In 2022 alone, more than 6,000 such deaths were officially recorded, with countless others going unreported in the name of preserving family “honour.” In Bangalore, one study revealed that out of 610 registered cases, only 13 ended in conviction, a mere 2 percent, exposing the systemic failure in ensuring justice.

This stands in stark contrast to ancient India, where marriage rituals, as argued by scholars, left little room for dowry as we know it today. Instead, it was viewed as a mark of the bride’s autonomy rather than a financial and systemic burden imposed on her family.

Michael Wetzel acknowledges this argument and claims that ancient Indian literature suggests dowry practices were not significant during the Vedic period. Wetzel also notes that women in ancient India had property inheritance rights either by appointment or when they had no brothers. Dowry was never a part of tradition; nevertheless, social conditioning has put it on a pedestal where it continues even today to hold a significantly powerful position.

The Arthashastra prescribed punishments for sexual crimes without discriminating against women based on their occupation. For instance, rape of a prostitute was punishable with twelve panas, while gang rape carried a penalty of twenty-four panas. The text thus recognized the dignity of all women, whether married or engaged in sex work.

Similarly, in contemporary India, Budhadev Karmaskar v. State of West Bengal, the Supreme Court held that sex workers are entitled to a life of dignity under Article 21 of the Constitution.

However, despite such recognition, sex workers often face double victimization—first at the hands of perpetrators of sexual violence, and then from a society that stigmatizes them. Moreover, the NCRB does not maintain separate data on crimes against sex workers. Reports by the NHRC and Amnesty International attribute this invisibility to fear of police harassment, lack of legal aid, and deep-rooted social prejudice. Thus, while the Arthashastra delivered immediate justice, contemporary India, despite strong constitutional protections and legal provisions, often fails to ensure timely relief. Sex workers are left to battle not only societal stigma but also a justice system that frequently abandons them.

The Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita attempts to build upon the IPC’s legacy by expanding definitions, introducing stricter sentencing, and establishing fast-track court mechanisms. Yet, case backlogs remain high. India recorded over 31,000 rape cases in recent years, but conviction rates stayed between 27-28% from 2018 to 2022. The BNS would be far more effective if its provisions were implemented with the same urgency that characterized ancient courts.

While we look at the prevailing condition of woman in the outside world, we must pay attention to the cruelties that they face in their own household. Domestic Violence has been a tale not uncommon both in urban and rural India. Women are assaulted, beaten up, and at times even killed for refusing to cater to their husbands’ wants and needs. Thus, the Domestic Violence Act was brought into the picture to help prevent this form of inequality from growing and infecting the generations to come. The Domestic Violence Act of 2005 acknowledges physical, emotional and sexual abuses, issuing orders and rules for the provision of relief and protection. Yet, while it marks out important concerns to be addressed, its implementation remains patchy.

A study carried out by a women-based organization stated that in Bengaluru, only 24 out of 2,202 cases under IPC Section 498A led to convictions (a mere 1%). While most domestic violence cases are shunned, stating that they were “personal matters” and the state has no right to interfere, even when it came at the cost of a life, ancient India did not submit to this viewpoint. The Arthashastra believed in the right of the King to look at the disposition of justice irrespective of whether a victim complained or not. It believed in the theory that public wrongs required public response and not private negotiations.

Nevertheless, while modern India has seen a rise in cases of domestic violence, there is a shimmer of hope to be optimistic about.

The most recent example is in Bihar, where the Bihar government approved the creation of 390 posts of full-time ‘protection officers’ (POs) in all districts and subdivisions to assist women affected by domestic violence. Similarly, Kerala has institutionalized a survivor-centric approach by setting up “Sakhi One Stop Centres” in 14 districts, providing counselling and legal aid services. These shelters have proved to be a blessing in disguise to 22,000 women and children. This clearly demonstrated that programs can be brought to life if well organized and carry with them a result-driven approach.

State being viewed as a protector, its various laws and acts being put in place is most certainly a necessity, yet it should not come at the cost of a woman’s dignity. While ancient law was brutal and unstructured, it did guarantee justice. We are not asking for a world filled with anarchy and chaos; all we demand is a justice system that believes in urgency and effectiveness. From the Manusmriti’s guardianship to POSH’s protective armor, as well as Arthashastra’s swift enforcement, to BNS’s expanded protection, the Indian justice system reflects both progress and paradox. By developing laws that are not merely theoretically accurate but practically feasible, we could help women live a safer life, where the law does not just exist but works. A law with the same ancient urgency and modern legality would help bring justice to the forefront and ensure that freedom is a reality lived and not an illusion believed.

Jessica Grace Gommes is an intern under TRIP

Mentored and Edited by Sneha Yadav