Honour most foul. Murder is easy.

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Honour most foul. Murder is easy.

What made these three women murder their husbands rather than saying "no" to marriage?

“I believe it takes a fracture of the soul to murder another human being.” – Hercule Poirot, Murder on the Orient Express, by Agatha ChristieIn the moral universe of every healthy society, murder is the ultimate transgression.

Yet a series of recent, meticulously planned spousal murders reveal a chilling inversion of that moral order.

According to investigators, something quite chilling is common in the case of Muskan Rastogi, Sonam Raghuvanshi, and the more recent case of Siya Goyal. The alleged accused women in all three cases believed that allowing an arranged marriage to proceed and then eliminating their husband/fiance was easier than confronting their families with a simple refusal.

“It was easier to kill Ketan than say “no” to my family,” said Siya in her statement to the police.

What is going on here?

Why is killing a human being easier than saying “no”? Whether the explanations of the accused stand the scrutiny of courts is a separate matter. What these three cases have exposed is a very disturbing question that goes beyond the scope of the crimes as horrific as they are. How does a society reach a point where the fear of family disrepute becomes so overwhelming that murder begins to appear as the path of least resistance?The answers may feel familiar if the gender roles are reversed.

Especially in a deeply patriarchal country like ours, where regressive socio-cultural marriage norms handed down generation to generation are still alive. And not just in some remote corner of a remote village. It exists in urban India.How many times have we read reports of fathers, brothers, or other male family members killing daughters or female relatives because they picked a partner of their choosing over the family’s choice? The impulse of such horrific crimes that are all too common stems mostly from class or caste differences.

But at the heart of it lies that age-old demon called “honour”.

What was thought to be an accident has now evolved into a suspected murder plot involving his fiancée, Siya Goyal, and her partner, Chetan Chaudhary

​A rising number of young, middle-to-upper-class women are actively orchestrating the cold-blooded, highly premeditated murders of their husbands or fiancés. This modern phenomenon represents a chilling inversion of the traditional “honor killing” script.​

Women, and that age-old demon called “honour”

But in the above-mentioned cases, there is a major flip. That patriarchy question still is at the heart of these murders most foul. But somewhere, the script has flipped. A rising number of young, middle-to-upper-class women are actively orchestrating the cold-blooded, highly premeditated murders of their husbands or fiancés. This modern phenomenon represents a chilling inversion of the traditional “honor killing” script.

Rather than defying family dictates and risking immediate social exile, these female perpetrators are adopting a facade of patriarchal compliance—proceeding with lavish engagements, curated social media profiles, and elaborate honeymoon preparations—while covertly organizing the physical elimination of their partners with the assistance of their lovers.The direction of violence has changed, but the obsession with appearances remains remarkably similar.

Honour is no longer about moral conduct but about controlling the public story. The victim has changed gender, yet the reputation of “honour” continues to demand a higher place than human life.This inversion cannot be understood without recognising the peculiar contradiction at the heart of modern Indian society. Young adults enjoy unprecedented educational opportunities, economic independence and exposure to global ideas about love, marriage and personal autonomy.

Yet many continue to inhabit family structures where marriage remains a collective project rather than an individual choice.

Compliance was camouflage. The manipulation. It wasn’t consent.

Sociologists have long described the compromises individuals make within unequal family systems as the “patriarchal bargain”. This is a system where people accept restrictions because those same structures also provide belonging, security, inheritance and social legitimacy. What these cases appear to demonstrate is not the rejection of that bargain but its manipulation.

Rather than openly resisting family expectations, the accused in the cases “performed” obedience.

They smiled through engagement ceremonies, posed for romantic photographs, exchanged affectionate messages and participated enthusiastically in wedding preparations, all the while simultaneously planning to eliminate the men they appeared ready to marry. Compliance was camouflage, rather than consent.

The institution of marriage was not challenged publicly but quietly converted into the stage upon which an elaborate deception could unfold.

Sahil (L), Muskan Rastogi (C), Saurabh Rajput

Honour is no longer about moral conduct but about controlling the public story. The victim has changed gender, yet the reputation of “honour” still demands a higher place than human life.

Let’s recall the similarities of these three particular cases. And maybe we can come close to deciphering the “why” of it all a bit further.

  • Muskan Rastogi (Meerut, Uttar Pradesh): Merchant Navy officer Saurabh Rajput was allegedly murdered, in March 2025, by his wife, Muskan Rastogi, and her alleged lover, Sahil Shukla. Police allege Saurabh was drugged, stabbed to death, his body dismembered, sealed inside a plastic drum with cement, and the couple then travelled to Himachal Pradesh in an attempt to create an alibi. Both were arrested after the crime came to light. The case became known as the “Meerut Blue Drum Murder Case”. The trial is pending.
  • Sonam Raghuvanshi (Meghalaya honeymoon case): Newlyweds Raja and Sonam Raghuvanshi travelled to Meghalaya for their honeymoon in May 2025. Raja was later found murdered in a gorge after the couple disappeared. Police allege Sonam conspired with her alleged lover and hired accomplices to kill her husband during the trip. The investigation, based on CCTV footage, mobile phone records and witness statements, led to multiple arrests. Sonam denies wrongdoing, and is out on bail. The case remains before the courts.
  • Siya Goyal (Pune Lohagad Fort case): In June 2026, 26-year-old Ketan Agarwal died after falling into a gorge at Lohagad Fort near Pune. Police initially treated the incident as an accident but later arrested his fiancée, Siya Goyal, and her alleged lover, Chetan Chaudhary. Investigators allege the pair planned Ketan's murder and attempted to stage it as an accidental fall during a trek. The investigation is ongoing.

In all three cases, the accused women conspired with alleged romantic partners to kill husbands or fiancés, followed by attempts to disguise the deaths as accidents or disappearances.The utter lack of empathy in these cases and the sheer violence of not just the action but the thought have forced the entire country to confront a very different and deeply disturbing phenomenon. These are not crimes allegedly committed in moments of uncontrollable rage or after years of violent abuse. Investigators describe them as “painstakingly planned operations involving rehearsals, hired killers, fabricated alibis, digital coordination and carefully cultivated public performances of affection”.Todd Shackelford, a professor of psychology at Oakland University who has studied intimate partner homicide (IPH) extensively, had said that globally, eighty to ninety percent of IPH crimes are committed by men against women – often following a long history of coercive control, physical abuse, and stalking. In contrast, when women kill their partners, it is almost always an act of immediate self-defense or a reaction to years of severe domestic violence.

These recent Indian cases, however, represent a complete departure from criminological patterns. These are proactive, cold-blooded, instrumental killings planned and executed for personal convenience, financial gain, or relationship freedom.

Indore couple case_ Sonam Raghuvanshi surrenders in UP, three others arrested

In all three cases, the accused women conspired with alleged romantic partners to kill husbands or fiancés, followed by attempts to disguise the deaths as accidents or disappearances.

I will have it all - honour and desire

The most revealing aspect of these investigations is not simply the brutality of the crimes but the explanations that investigators say emerged during questioning.

Faced with the obvious question of why they did not simply refuse the marriage, elope with someone they loved or endure temporary conflict with their parents, some allegedly suggested that doing so would have irreparably damaged their family's social standing.

In their moral calculus, a broken engagement threatened prestige, invited gossip, jeopardised family relationships and risked public humiliation. Murder, disguised as an accident or carried out through intermediaries, appeared to offer a cleaner solution.This extends far beyond criminality. The questions we are confronted with are beyond the scope of the crimes committed. It’s a window into understanding modern India, where people from many centuries live together – where 19th century traditional family structures are frequently colliding with the changing aspirations of young and the restless of the 21st century.Agatha Christie wrote that murder requires “a fracture of the soul.”

Perhaps these cases suggest that such fractures do not begin with acts of violence in adulthood. They begin much earlier, when the thought of disappointing one’s family “honour” feels more dangerous than speaking about true feelings with honesty. When honesty by young people is rewarded with shame by old people.Whatever the courts ultimately conclude, that is the uncomfortable mirror these investigations hold up to modern India. All these women may have at some point said or at least thought of saying to their parents: “I do not want to marry this person.” And the answer possibly was: “Log kya kahenge?”. That seemed to be a far bigger demon than the cold, calculated act of killing.

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