She Claims Her Right—But What of Her Dharma?


 

A Spiritual Perspective on Women, Inheritance, and Forgotten Duties in Indian Families

In today’s India, a daughter claiming her legal right in her father’s property is seen as a victory—a long-overdue triumph of gender justice. Courts uphold it, social reformers celebrate it, and women are encouraged to claim what is rightfully theirs.

But there’s one question no one dares to ask anymore:
"With every claim of rights… what happened to the responsibility?"

The sacred texts of Bharatvarsha never denied women their place in the lineage. In fact, in many Vedic households, daughters were not just loved—they were revered. But the language of reverence was always wrapped in responsibility, not just return. And what we are witnessing today is not empowerment—it is emotional detachment masked as progress.

This article is not a legal argument. It is a spiritual mirror.

1. Dharma Is Never One-Sided—Not Even for Daughters

Let us begin with the most foundational principle of Sanatana Dharma: Every right is accompanied by dharma. There is no standalone entitlement in the Indian philosophical system. There is only karma, karta, and kriya—action, actor, and consequence.

In the Bhagavad Gita (3.19), Krishna declares:

“Tasmād asaktaḥ satataṁ kāryaṁ karma samāchara”
Perform your duty, without attachment to the result.

So if a daughter claims her karmic right over her parental property, it must be matched by her dharmic responsibility toward the house that nurtured her, educated her, and sent her forth.

That doesn’t mean servitude.
It means seva bhava—a heart that doesn’t forget its roots just because it has grown wings.

2. Women Have Always Had Property Rights—But Also Spiritual Duties

Contrary to popular belief, women in ancient India were never seen as mere dependents.

In the Rig Veda (10.85.46), we find:

“Samrajni shvaśure bhava, samrajni śvaśrvām bhava,
Samrajni nanandāsu bhava, samrajni adhi devṛṣu”
May you be a queen in your in-laws' home, a queen in your father's house, a queen among sisters, and a queen among brothers-in-law.

This is not the voice of a powerless woman. It is the invocation of a householder queen—one who moves from one home to another, carrying her grace, her strength, and yes—her responsibility.

The idea that a married woman owes nothing to her paternal home is a modern fiction. The Vedic daughter is not a guest who leaves and forgets. She is a thread that weaves two families together—not a legal claimant who tears one apart.

3. Legal Inheritance Without Emotional Involvement Is Adharmic

Today, many daughters are encouraged to take their legal share in property—but are rarely asked if they are willing to also share care, time, and duty.

  • Who visits the aging father when he is sick?

  • Who performs the shraddha or tarpan if there is no son?

  • Who holds space for the memories, rituals, and ancestral traditions?

These are not minor duties. In Vedic tradition, these were seen as essential pitru runa—debts toward one’s ancestors. And daughters, too, carried this runa. But now, we’ve trained a generation to say:
“I want what is mine. But what is theirs—emotions, aging, loneliness—that’s not my job.”

This is not modernity. This is adharma wrapped in law.

4. Zabaan Pe Lagam: Stop Telling Half-Stories That Tear Families Apart

It’s easy to build a narrative around “oppressed daughters” and “greedy sons.” It plays well on Instagram and courtroom dramas. But truth is not marketing. It is balance.

So let us ask: When a daughter claims her share, what words are used?
Is it:

“I claim my due, with love in my heart and service in my soul”?
Or is it:
“I have no interest in family rituals, relationships, or responsibilities—but I will fight for my share”?

The former is dharma.
The latter is entitlement.
And zabaan pe lagam is needed here.

Because when narratives paint men as villains and women as victims without context, they tear the human fabric that once protected the sacredness of family. This is not feminism. It is fracturing.

5. Draupadi: A Woman of Rights and Responsibility

Let us not forget Draupadi—married into the greatest dynasty, humiliated in court, and yet, never abandoned her duties.

She questioned injustice with fire, but also fed her elders with humility. She stood up for her dignity, but also upheld the rituals of the house.

When the Pandavas went to exile, she went with them. When Yudhishthira performed the Rajasuya, she stood by his side, managing the kingdom. She had rights, yes. But she never used them to divide—only to heal.

Can today’s daughters say the same?

6. Shraddha, Pitru Runa, and the Forgotten Debt

In the Garuda Purana, and even in the Manu Smriti, a person is said to be born with three debts:

  • Rishi Runa – to the sages

  • Deva Runa – to the divine

  • Pitru Runa – to the ancestors

This last one, pitru runa, is often passed on to sons in rituals, but it applies to daughters too—especially in the emotional, spiritual, and relational space.

If you take from the father, you must also take toward the father.

This means:

  • Checking in.

  • Taking responsibility when brothers cannot.

  • Attending ceremonies not as guests, but as children.

Modern law says: You are equal in claim.
Dharma says: Are you equal in contribution?

7. Why Did Indian Culture Tear? Because We Unstitched One Side of the Cloth

Our culture never tore in a day. It frayed slowly when we privileged legal justice over relational balance, individual gain over collective grace, and claim over care.

Now we see siblings not talking for decades. Brothers feeling betrayed. Daughters viewing their paternal homes as legal territory, not sacred memory.

And all the while, we celebrate it as “progress.”

Let us ask again: Is it progress to divide emotionally and unite only on paper?
Is it justice if the father is remembered only for his land, not his legacy?

8. The Path Forward: Daughters Who Are Also Dharmic Guardians

So what is the solution?

  • Let daughters claim their rights, but also return to their responsibilities.

  • Let families welcome daughters not with fear of division, but with invitation to participate in legacy.

  • Let sons not carry the emotional load alone, and let daughters not walk away just because law allows it.

  • Let us all ask, “Am I healing the home… or simply inheriting it?”

This is the call of the Upanishads.
This is the voice of Sanatana Dharma.

Conclusion: Don’t Just Claim the Land. Carry the Lineage.

We do not oppose inheritance for daughters. We oppose incomplete inheritance—where the property is taken, but the prayers are left behind.
Where the bank account is claimed, but the ancestral altar is ignored.

Let today’s daughters rise not just as legal heirs—but as spiritual guardians of the home that raised them.

May they say:
“Yes, I am my father’s daughter. Not just in claim, but in care.”

Because in the end, as the Mahabharata teaches us, dharma sustains society—law alone does not.

Let us not let modernity sever our soul ties in the name of justice.
Let us evolve with memory, with love, with restraint, and above all—

With dharma.

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