Every social movement begins with an uncomfortable question.
For decades, India has asked whether women receive equal opportunities, equal pay, equal representation and equal protection under the law. Those questions were necessary because women faced undeniable disadvantages in education, employment, politics and public life.
Today, however, another question is demanding attention: who speaks for men when they believe the system has failed them?
The death of Bengaluru-based software engineer Atul Subhash last year brought that question into the national spotlight. Before ending his life, Subhash left behind videos and documents alleging harassment through matrimonial litigation and maintenance disputes. The facts of his case will ultimately be determined by the courts.
But the public reaction to his death told a larger story.
Thousands of men across the country responded not because they knew the details of the case but because they saw reflections of their own frustrations. Social media was flooded with accounts of prolonged divorce proceedings, maintenance disputes, child custody battles and legal complaints that many felt had turned their lives upside down.
For perhaps the first time in years, men’s rights moved from the fringes of public discourse into the mainstream.
The debate deserves to continue.
Not because women have too many rights. Not because women no longer face discrimination. And certainly not because gender equality has been achieved.
It deserves attention because gender justice cannot remain credible if it only acknowledges one side of the equation.
India’s legal and policy framework has evolved significantly over the past three decades. Women’s commissions exist at both national and state levels. There are dedicated welfare programmes for women. Laws addressing domestic violence, dowry harassment and workplace harassment have been strengthened. Political reservations for women are now part of India’s democratic framework.
Most of these interventions were necessary.
Yet there is no equivalent institutional framework focused on issues affecting men.
The assumption appears to be that men, by virtue of being men, do not require one.
That assumption is increasingly difficult to defend.
Consider matrimonial disputes.
Anti-dowry laws were enacted to address a genuine social evil. Domestic violence laws were designed to protect vulnerable women. Their importance is beyond question.
But acknowledging their importance should not prevent society from discussing misuse.
The Supreme Court itself has repeatedly expressed concern about instances where anti-dowry provisions have been invoked indiscriminately. In the Arnesh Kumar judgment, the court warned against automatic arrests and highlighted the possibility of abuse.
Even if false or exaggerated cases represent only a minority, the consequences can be severe. Careers are disrupted. Families are torn apart. Savings are consumed by legal expenses. Reputations are damaged long before courts arrive at a verdict.
Justice requires protecting victims. It also requires protecting the innocent.
A mature legal system must be capable of doing both.
The issue extends far beyond courtrooms.
One of the least discussed aspects of Indian society is the burden placed on men by cultural expectations. Men are expected to provide, endure and remain emotionally resilient regardless of circumstances.
The struggling businessman is told to work harder.
The unemployed graduate is told to be stronger.
The husband dealing with emotional distress is told to move on.
The father fighting a custody battle is told to accept reality.
Rarely are they encouraged to speak openly about vulnerability.
The consequences are visible in the numbers.
Year after year, men account for the overwhelming majority of suicides in India. Behind every statistic lies a personal tragedy involving financial stress, family disputes, relationship breakdowns or mental health struggles.
If any other demographic group accounted for such a large share of suicide deaths, it would likely trigger a national policy response.
Instead, male mental health remains one of India’s most neglected public issues.
The same invisibility extends to workplace risks.
Public discussions on gender inequality often focus on boardrooms and corporate leadership positions. Those conversations are important.
But India is also a country of construction workers, truck drivers, miners and factory labourers. The overwhelming majority of workplace fatalities occur among men.
The labourer who falls from scaffolding, the driver killed in a highway accident and the worker exposed to hazardous industrial conditions rarely feature in discussions about gender disadvantage.
Yet their struggles are no less real.
Then there is the question of reservations and affirmative action.
Women’s reservation in legislatures and numerous gender-specific incentives in education and employment have been justified as tools for correcting historical imbalances.
Many have produced positive outcomes.
But public policy must also be willing to ask difficult questions.
At what point does affirmative action achieve its objective?
Should future interventions increasingly focus on economic disadvantage rather than gender alone?
Can a poor young man from a rural household be automatically assumed to be more privileged than a woman from a wealthy urban family?
These are not anti-women questions. They are questions about how equality should evolve in a changing society.
Unfortunately, public debate often treats any discussion of men’s issues as a threat to women’s rights.
That is a mistake.
Recognising men’s problems does not diminish women’s struggles.
Acknowledging male suicide does not undermine campaigns against violence against women.
Discussing wrongful accusations does not weaken protections for genuine victims.
Supporting fathers’ rights does not threaten mothers’ rights.
A society should be capable of addressing multiple forms of vulnerability at the same time.
This is why India should seriously consider establishing a National Commission for Men.
Such a body would not exist to compete with women’s commissions or roll back legal protections for women. Its purpose would be to study issues affecting men, collect data, recommend reforms and provide a formal platform for grievances that currently find expression only through social media outrage.
Male mental health, workplace fatalities, family court reforms, child custody disputes and legal safeguards against wrongful accusations are all legitimate areas of public policy.
Ignoring them will not make them disappear.
The Atul Subhash case may eventually fade from the headlines, as most stories do. But the questions it raised will remain.
India’s pursuit of gender justice has made remarkable progress over the years. The next stage of that journey should not involve choosing between men and women.
It should involve recognising that fairness cannot be selective.
A democracy committed to equality must be willing to listen to everyone.
Including men.