Kheechna: How ‘choice’ is costing tribal girls their childhood in Rajasthan

Fifteen-year-old Rupali (name changed), a class topper from a remote Bhil village in Rajasthan’s Kotra Block, dreamed of becoming a teacher. Last year, during the Kheechna fair, a local tradition where young Bhils choose partners, she left with a boy she liked. Her parents were upset but eventually accepted it as part of their tradition.

Within a few months, everything changed in Rupali’s life. School stopped, her books gathered dust, and a difficult pregnancy left her weak and exhausted.

“I chose,” Rupali says quietly. “But no one explained what that choice would cost me.”

Her story reflects the dilemma faced by several girls in Kotra Block who are caught between cultural autonomy and the sudden, overwhelming responsibilities of adulthood.

In the tribal hills of southern Rajasthan, the annual Kheechna festival, also known as Bhagoria in some rural pockets, looks like a celebration. Music and crowds fill the air as young people from Bhil and Garasia communities mingle freely.

Traditionally, this festival symbolises choice, where a girl and a boy choose each other as a companion and could leave together to begin an informal union. No rituals. No priest. No dowry. No registration. Just a decision, made by two young people, often while they are still minors.

But behind the festive colours lies a silent crisis now unfolding across the region.

What’s more concerning is that Kheechna is no longer limited to the annual fair. With mobile phones, seasonal migration, and growing social networks, girls and boys now leave home together at different times of the year. To the administrative system, it is neither a marriage nor a violation.

“Over the past two years, we have come across many such cases through school attendance registers and health worker records. But you won’t find these cases in any government records, as the details exist only in the notebooks of schoolteachers, health workers, and local organisations,” said Sarfraz, Programme Manager at the Kotra Adivasi Sansthan (KAS), which works closely with the tribal communities in collaboration with CRY.

“This is not marriage,” say elders. “They are just living together.”

For generations, Kheechna has been viewed as a culturally sanctioned relationship between two young people. Elders defend it as freedom that is neither bound to arranged marriages nor dowry traditions.

But the ground reality is grim. As per CRY’s experience of working with Bhil and Garasia communities in Kotra Block, most girls who elope are between 14 and 16 years old and drop out of school after elopement. Many of them experience early pregnancy, often accompanied by anaemia and other health complications, with little access to counselling or mental health support.

Community workers in Kotra note that many adolescent relationships begin with emotional curiosity and closeness, long before young people fully understand their consequences. The risk, they say, lies not in adolescents forming relationships, but in the absence of information and support when those relationships lead to girls leaving home with their partner, school dropouts, or early pregnancy. Without guidance on health, consent, and long-term implications, decisions framed as “choice” are often shaped by incomplete information rather than informed consent.

Babulal Gamhar, a widely respected person within the Bhil and Garasia communities in Kotra, says the practice of Kheechna is pushing children into adult responsibilities too early. “Many boys and girls drop out of school, and several girls become mothers at a very young age,” he says. “In the process, their childhood is taken away.”

Why these cases don’t exist on paper

India’s Prohibition of Child Marriage Act (PCMA), 2006, defines a marriage as a child marriage if the girl is below 18 years of age or the boy is below 21. The law empowers child protection authorities to intervene, annul such marriages, and provide support to affected children.

However, unions formed through Kheechna fall outside this legal definition. These relationships neither involve a formal ceremony nor registration. As a result, they are not officially recognised as marriages even if one or both individuals are minors. This leads to a critical legal grey zone. Since these unions are not recorded as marriages, they are also not reported as child marriages. Without a formal violation on paper, the administration lacks the legal trigger required to intervene.

Where culture meets crisis

In Rajasthan, several age-old marriage-related customs, once shaped by survival, social order, or economic need, continue to govern children’s lives in ways that now cause lasting harm. In Aata-Saata, where brides are exchanged between families, girls live with the constant risk of violence and separation, knowing that a conflict in one marriage can punish another. In Natra-Jhagda, women seeking to leave abusive marriages are often forced to pay high financial penalties, trapping them in cycles of control and violence. Kheechna, though framed as a choice-driven alternative to formal marriage, operates within the same grey zone, where tradition is upheld but child protection is absent.

In Kotra, organisations like KAS, supported by CRY, are building safeguards with the community and not against it. Local young leaders from the community itself hold open conversations on relationships, health, safety, and dreams, creating informed choice instead of blind choice. Instead of discouraging relationships, KAS emphasises building awareness on health, education, consent, and personal agency so that adolescents are better equipped to make informed decisions and seek support before irreversible choices are made.

Community agreements, in which village elders, parents, and youth groups are involved, ensure that if anyone under 18 elopes, they must enrol in open schooling, attend health check-ups, and receive regular welfare visits. We have been constantly supporting teachers, health workers, and local volunteers to identify vulnerable adolescents early and offer counselling before decisions escalate. This approach respects tradition while safeguarding childhood.

These ground realities underscore why national efforts such as the Government of India’s recently launched Bal Vivah Mukt Bharat campaign matter particularly in regions like Kotra, where informal unions fall outside formal legal scrutiny. By emphasising stronger administrative monitoring, improving public access to reporting mechanisms, and reaffirming 18 as the minimum age of marriage without exceptions, the campaign draws attention to gaps that cases such as these expose. However, unless such initiatives engage with the lived complexities of customary practices and reach adolescents who remain invisible to the system, their impact will remain limited.

Soha Moitra is Director of Programmes, CRY - Child Rights and You

Views expressed are the author’s own and don’t necessarily reflect those of Down To Earth