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The Karnataka Devadasi Bill, 2025: A Critical Inquiry into its Paternity Provisions

  • Mannat Arya and Diya Sarah
  • 1 day ago
  • 9 min read

Introduction

Dedicated to the divine in a marriage that will not cease in widowhood, few have the fortune of such religious esteem. Sold like commodities, bought into prostitution, and branded with a name that provokes both societal disgust and piety, few have the misfortune of wearing the sacred beads of the Devadasi. Once held in great esteem, the Devadasi are a predominantly female community of persons dedicated to a deity, and are involved in temple rituals, especially through classical dance and music.


In Vishal Jeet v. Union of India, the Supreme Court of India (‘SC’) noted that the Devadasi system has stubbornly refused to be uprooted despite legislation and attempts at rehabilitation. The practice of dedicating minor girls for prostitution was first banned in India in 1924, following which the Central Government and several states brought out varied legislations to attempt to curb the system and its various facets. Yet, the system stands. The prevalence and continuing existence of this system can be attributed to its altered nature under Mughal and British rulers, from a system of worship and voluntary religious servitude to one marked by exploitation, victimhood, and voicelessness. If consent is at all part of today’s Devadasi equation, it is systemically manufactured, muddied by social pressures, the caste system, and economic hardship.


In the above judgement, the SC further emphasised that speedy systemic change would be the key to eradicating this ‘malignity’. It is in this context that the Karnataka Devadasi (Prevention, Prohibition, Relief and Rehabilitation) Bill, 2025 (‘the Bill’) has been proposed. The Bill is a conscious effort towards ending the vicious cycle of dedication, keeping in mind the plight of children born into this system, offering legitimacy, healthcare, and education. It has been reserved for, and now awaits, Presidential assent.


This blog unpacks sections 5-8 of the Bill, examining the provisions that attempt to reconstruct and reintroduce the notion of ‘family’, in particular paternity, into the Devadasi system.


The Paternity Problem

The Devadasis present a unique, legally enigmatic, and socially delicate problem to lawmakers, as the community involves women and children from lower castes, whose cages are religiously protected and whose criminalisation has driven them underground. Keeping these challenges in mind, the drafting process of this Bill involved community engagement with over 15,000 Devadasis, which enabled the recognition of the problem of paternity. Family is a complex subject with regard to Devadasis, with many forced to raise illegitimate children alone, left as impregnated minors, or estranged from any sort of familial support. According to a study, 92% of dedicated girls had not attained the age of majority, many of them estranged from their fathers, while others remain unaware of their identity altogether.


This situation is further compounded as Devadasis are forced to be women, with obedience and seductive allure in order to survive, but are treated as sons when it comes to matters of inheritance and property, as affirmed in Kamalabai and Ors. v. Shivappa. In this case, the Karnataka High Court recognized treating daughters as sons for the purposes of property inheritance as a custom. This is because property inheritance in this patriarchal, patrilineal society moves within the male members of the family, leaving the Devadasis at a significant disadvantage due to the glaring lack of male figures in their lives.


Existing legal provisions for this community include the Karnataka Devadasis (Prohibition of Dedication) Act 1982, the Tamil Nadu Devadasis (Prevention of Dedication) Act 1947, the Andhra Pradesh Devadasis (Prevention of Dedication) Act 1988, and the Maharashtra Devdasi (Abolition) Act 2005. It can be noted that, unlike these, the newly proposed Bill contains family provisions and paternal spectral reparation towards the offspring of this community, such as the right to ascertain paternity, and the right to inherit paternal property. By giving legitimacy to the ‘bastardly’ child (section 7), and acting as a protector against discrimination due to a lack of parental details (section 9), this Bill marks a possible end to administrative, social, and psychological troubles on governmental and familial levels. Unlike existing provisions, which largely criminalize the actions of devadasis, the new Bill offers more active rehabilitation, empowerment, and protection to the Devadasis, potentially enabling them to realize their rights and social potential.


Sections 5-8: A Critical Analysis

This Bill, though appearing to offer a utopian plethora of rights, raises several questions and necessitates caution that cannot be ignored in this complex reality of systemic exploitation.


Section 5 of the Bill deals with ascertaining paternity. Firstly, while the intention of reintroducing and holding the father accountable is clear, it ignores the fact that the fathers are the ones usually responsible for the grim conditions of Devadasi children. Moreover, in most cases, consent in the sexual relationship between the Devadasi and her partner remains questionable, as even free consent is often the result of a complex web of social dynamics, including caste and class. In this context, the reintroduction of the spectral paternal figure has the potential to re-traumatise and destabilise the family, as the so-called ‘father’ is often associated with coercion, abandonment, and violence, and thus, may force the woman and her children to relive the very harm the law seeks to remedy. Therefore, the concern is not with the recognition of a child’s right to ascertain paternity, but with the absence of procedural insulation that would protect a child from re-traumatisation or coercive exposure. For these reasons, many Devadasi women may not want their children to avail the right to ascertain paternity; thus, casting doubt over the implementation of this provision.


Further, there lies a risk that Devadasi women may face greater pressure from the fathers of their children, who wish to evade accountability and identification. In this context of economic dependency and social domination, this may manifest as discouragement of childbirth, obstruction to legal recourse, or threats of violence.


Secondly, Section 5(2) of the Bill provides the right to determine paternity using biochemical tests, like DNA tests. However, this may conflict with the right to privacy and bodily autonomy of the father. Judicial precedents such as Bhabani Prasad Jena v. Orissa State Commission for Women observed that DNA testing should not be a routine, everyday practice and instead should be a measure of last resort when no alternative evidence is available and where the presumption of legitimacy under Section 112 of the Evidence Act (now Section 116 of the Bharatiya Sakshya Adhiniyam) is rebutted by strong prima facie material. However, the Bill does not articulate these thresholds of necessity, raising concerns over the right to privacy of the alleged father. Further, although the Bill does not expressly provide for adverse inference, courts may rely on general evidentiary principles to interpret a refusal unfavourably, thus potentially violating the right to privacy under Article 21 of the Indian Constitution. A shaky balance between a child’s right to ascertain their father’s identity and the man’s consent arises here, requiring judicial and legislative clarity. Thus, while enabling the right to maintenance and property under Section 6 and 8 of the Bill constitutes a legitimate state aim, the proportionality of conducting compulsory DNA testing depends on the presence of procedural safeguards.


Moreover, this provision may be misused, not only by members of the Devadasi community, but by intermediaries, agents, or local actors such as police, panchayat members, temple practitioners, etc., who may exploit the ambiguity of paternity claims through false accusations, especially aimed at upper-caste men, for personal gain. The Supreme Court, though not specifically referring to Devadasis, has acknowledged in Shakti Vahini v. Union of India, that informal community actors often influence decisions relating to sexuality, family, lineage, marriage, inheritance etc. Thus, the absence of safeguards against informal coercion may also shape the Devadasis’ decision regarding ascertainment of paternity.


Thirdly, in former times, the men engaging in sexual relationships with Devadasis were largely rich landlords and upper-caste men. Thus, provisions regarding property inheritance or maintenance would be fitting. However, research shows that the trends have reversed, and it is predominantly men from lower castes (SC and ST) and poor backgrounds who are involved now. They often do not have any ancestral property to pass on and no economic cushion for the law to tap into.


Further, Devadasis are subjected to exploitation on various fronts and from several individuals, not just the father(s) of their children. These include community and family members, members of panchayats, priests, traffickers, etc. The Bill, however, places responsibility only on the father of the child, who is simply one player in an intricate web of oppression. Though Chapter XI of the Bill penalises “any person” involved in illegal dedications of devadasis, the obligation to provide financial support is placed solely on the father, enabling other actors, who are equally responsible for the grim conditions of the devadasis, to effectively escape.


Lastly, from a practical point of view, Devadasi women, often young and belonging to the lowest rungs of society (in terms of caste, gender, sexuality, occupation, economic status, social perception and more), would be reluctant to seek their abuser or former partner’s property due to fear of public backlash or socially orchestrated boycotts. Thus, without ensuring their protection from such instances, the paternity provisions would be futile.


Suggestions Toward Reform

For the paternity provisions of the Bill to be successful, there must be a shift from the narrow, father-centric model of accountability to a structural, trauma-informed system where women can stand up for themselves and claim their rights.


Firstly, there must be recognition of the fact that though it is important to reintroduce the father into the family, it cannot come at the cost of re-traumatisation. The procedure followed in this regard can be made more victim-centric and friendly. For instance, a model based on POCSO protocols of no face-to-face confrontation with the alleged father, presence of a trauma counsellor and prohibition on aggressive or sexualised questioning can be incorporated in this Bill to create a victim-centred rehabilitation model.


Secondly, the right to ascertain paternity must align with the right to privacy and bodily autonomy of the father. Section 8 of the Bill recognises the right of the alleged father to disprove paternity but does not contain adequate safeguards. Therefore the authors recommend that provisions for informed consent, explanation of the consequences of the test, and judicial oversight must be incorporated to align the testing with the principles of proportionality laid down in the case of KS Puttaswamy v Union of India. Further, before conducting the tests, the courts should analyse corroborative indicators such as, the existence of a sexual relationship, cohabitation (specifically non-access) in order to reduce speculative or malicious claims. DNA testing should only be used as a last resort.


Thirdly, the most urgent necessity is to build a robust protective architecture within the legal framework to safeguard Devadasis and their children when they initiate paternity or property claims from the fathers. Granting anonymity by allowing mandatory in-camera hearings rather than the present discretionary regime, penalties for unauthorised disclosure and sealed records, along with state-funded victim and witness protection mechanisms, and protection through community sensitisation, would be crucial in enforcing this Bill.


Fourthly, the mechanisms of providing compensation and maintenance could be made more robust through the creation of a ‘Devadasi Reparations Fund’, which should include contributions from the State and all actors involved in this systemic exploitation. This would ensure that the compensation is not dependent on the wealth of a single male partner, who may not be financially able to even support himself.


Lastly, it is important for the legal framework to hold not only the biological father accountable, but also other players in this system. The law must bring to account all who are involved in the illegal dedication of the women, including pimps, brokers, and brothel keepers, as emphasised in Vishal Jeet. Integrating other statutes such as POCSO, the Juvenile Justice Act and Immoral Trafficking (Prevention) Act, along with support from Child Welfare Committees (CWC), can help in creating a robust system required for providing comprehensive protection and rehabilitation to the victims of this oppressive system.


Conclusion

Within the fractures of abuse and exploitation, Sections 5-8 of the Karnataka Devadasi Bill, 2025, come as stitches to mend the notion of family. Through ascertaining paternity, the Bill aims to bring fathers back into a primarily female system; through the measures to ensure property inheritance and maintenance, the Bill ensures that children of Devadasis are not pushed into the same economic crisis their mothers fought to be free from; while measures to legitimise Devadasi children and hold their fathers accountable, offer these children avenues different from those available in the previous generation. There is, however, a long way to go towards the enforcement of this Bill while questions regarding its ability to hold perpetrators accountable remain. There lies a careful apparatus of a woman’s voice in a man’s world, especially in a system run by religion and backed by society. This Bill attempts to upset this apparatus, but must be careful not to bring it crashing down on the most vulnerable in the process.

This article has been authored by Mannat Arya, Associate Editor and Diya Sarah, Assistant Editor at RSRR. It is a part of the RSRR Editor's Column Series.

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