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Say the number ‘420 ’ to anyone who has grown up in India, and there is instant recognition of its connotation – it refers to a shady person, a cheat, a thief; the concept refers to the section number for the offence of fraud in the Indian Penal Code, but is so naturalized that the link to the category signified is all but forgotten, making for hilarious cross-cultural misunderstanding on occasion. A more recent signifier, marked also by its Penal Code section number, fast assuming equivalent potency, is ‘498 ’ – this section of the IPC refers to ‘torture’ of women (domestic violence both physical and mental is to be prosecuted under this), but it erupts frequently in common parlance to signify a new order of choices for women, a new slate of sanctions for men, and a new way of using courts, police and community mediators. In my ethnographic investigations of Family Courts and Women’s Grievance Cells of the Police in Kolkata, India, I began to be struck by how often my observations of divorce proceedings were infused with references to ‘498’: male litigants in the social camaraderie of the courtroom corridor would check in with each other, “How did your 498 go?”, assuming a shared legal torment; “you can’t save the marriage once there’s a 498 ” was the most frequent phrase I heard from police officers; “How can she blame me for the marriage failing when she has filed a 498?”, a Family Court ‘counselor’ (mediator) asked rhetorically. Yet, when judges, counselors and police dealt with ‘498s, ’ they often were not managing/punishing violence per se, but rather negotiating a range of issues related to the social and economic entitlements of marriage.
Srimati Basu (Sun,) studied this question.