Imagine being trapped in a foreign country, thousands of miles from home, under constant surveillance by a husband who promised you a new life but delivered a living nightmare. This is the chilling reality for Kiran, one of India’s countless ‘abandoned brides’ caught in a web of deceit, control, and visa manipulation. But here’s where it gets even more disturbing: her husband, living in Australia, monitored her every move through cameras installed in her in-laws’ home in northern India, even after their child was born. “I can always see what you do,” he would remind her, a chilling echo of the power imbalance that defined their relationship.
Kiran’s story begins in 2015, when she married her husband in a traditional Sikh ceremony in Punjab, near the India-Pakistan border. At just 22, she knew little about him beyond the surface-level details that made him an ‘eligible’ match: permanent residency in Australia, a white-collar job, and no drinking habits. Yet, within a month of their wedding, he returned to Australia, leaving her behind. Over the next eight years, he visited her only four times, each stay lasting barely a month. And this is the part most people miss: while he was physically absent, his control over her life only intensified through surveillance and emotional manipulation.
Kiran’s ordeal is far from unique. Yasmin Khan, head of the Queensland-based Bangle Foundation, reveals that thousands of Indian women are lured into marriages with the promise of overseas migration, only to be abandoned or exploited. But here’s the controversial angle: some husbands use their wives as unpaid domestic labor for their in-laws in India, a practice advocates liken to modern slavery. Others abscond with dowries, despite the practice being illegal in India since 1961. Even when husbands intend to bring their wives abroad, visa complications often leave women stranded in legal limbo.
In Kiran’s case, her husband’s promises of a shared life in Australia crumbled when she became pregnant. “He said he would never let me join him,” she recalls. Her mental health deteriorated, and community pressure in Punjab—a region advocates call the ‘epicentre of abandoned brides’—finally forced her husband to bring her and their children to Australia in 2023. But here’s the twist: instead of a partner visa, which offers a pathway to residency, he brought her on a tourist visa, ensuring she had no legal right to stay permanently, despite her children being Australian citizens.
Khan describes this as a form of coercive control, exacerbated by the vulnerability of Kiran’s visa status. The Bangle Foundation, which supports South Asian women facing domestic and visa abuse, receives over 1,000 calls for help annually, with 60% from women interstate or abroad. Here’s the thought-provoking question: Why do culturally and linguistically diverse (CALD) women hesitate to seek help from mainstream services? Khan argues it’s not just cultural barriers but also fear of judgment, shame, and the complexity of explaining traditions like arranged marriages to outsiders.
Today, Kiran remains in visa limbo, fighting to stay in Australia with her children. “I cling to the hope that my children will give me the happiness I craved from my husband,” she says. Her story raises unsettling questions about the intersection of immigration, gender, and power. What do you think? Is enough being done to protect women like Kiran? Share your thoughts in the comments below.
*Name has been changed to protect identity.
For support, contact the following helplines: In Australia, call 1800 737 732; in the UK, 0808 2000 247; in the US, 1-800-799-SAFE (7233). International helplines are available at www.befrienders.org.
