[ Wijali Manyu ]

Thousands of years ago, our ancestors developed elaborate ways of attracting mates. While some traditional societies continue to practise these rituals explicitly, modern society has merely refined the performance.

Consider the Wodaabe people of West Africa, whose annual Gerewol festival features the Yaakee dance. Men adorn their faces with elaborate paint, accentuate their physical features and perform rhythmic dances to attract women. Here, men become the objects of beauty and scrutiny, while women select their preferred partners.

Now, bring this spectacle closer to home.

In Arunachal Pradesh, the courtship stage may look different, but the performance is sometimes strikingly familiar. Instead of paint and feathers, the modern-day suitor displays his Scorpio, thick wallet, rental properties, commercial establishments and political connections. See my Scorpio. See my political position, See my shops. See my rental houses.

The feathers have changed, but the peacock dance continues.

Of course, wealth and status are not inherently objectionable, nor is attraction to material security. The concern arises when these become instruments of pursuit by married men, with other women and children left to bear the consequences.

Have human courtship rituals really changed, or have we simply modernised the display?

Miss Arunachal 2026: A question of accountability

The recent Miss Arunachal Contest 2026 controversy brings this question into sharp focus.

According to reports, the Miss Arunachal Organisation (MAO) terminated a contestant's candidature for the Dirang edition, following a controversy involving an alleged polygamous relationship. The organisation stated that its review of information circulating on social media revealed circumstances inconsistent with its eligibility and conduct requirements. It directed the contestant to stop representing herself as a participant and urged the public not to hold the remaining 25 contestants responsible.

The organisation did not disclose its specific findings, and no response from the contestant was available at the time of reporting.

The organisers are entitled to enforce their eligibility requirements. However, this incident raises a larger question: Why does the woman so often become the principal target of public condemnation when a relationship involves a married man?

If marital commitments have been violated, should accountability not extend to everyone involved?

A woman who knowingly enters a relationship with a married man may bear moral responsibility for her choices. But the married man, who has made an existing commitment, cannot simply disappear from the equation. Nor should allegations be treated as established facts without evidence.

The issue is not whether women should be held accountable. It is why men are so often held to a different standard.

The first wife: The convenient scapegoat

In our society, a woman accused of entering into a relationship with a married man may face public ridicule, social exclusion and relentless scrutiny. Meanwhile, the man may return to his familiar social circles, reconcile with his wife, or enter into another relationship with comparatively little damage to his reputation.

Why is the punishment so disproportionately severe for the woman and so lenient for the man?

Some men portray themselves as victims of unhappy marriages, blaming their wives for their extramarital affairs. Yet marital dissatisfaction, however genuine, does not justify dishonesty or betrayal. The responsible choices are to address the problems honestly, seek reconciliation or end the marriage through appropriate means.

The first wife, meanwhile, is expected to preserve the family's reputation, protect her children and endure humiliation in silence. If she protests, she may be labelled as insecure or incapable of keeping her husband happy. If she leaves, she may be blamed for breaking her family. She is expected to carry the burden of preserving a marriage that another person has chosen to undermine.

We also witness selective outrage. Women alleged to have knowingly entered into relationships with married men may be condemned in one instance yet welcomed into influential social circles in another. Professional positions, political connections and social status can seemingly determine whose conduct attracts scrutiny.

This is not a call to publicly shame individuals based on rumours. It is a call for consistency. A society cannot claim to uphold women's dignity while making women the principal custodians of marital morality and granting men greater freedom to violate it.

When custom becomes an excuse

In Arunachal, polygamy is frequently defended in the name of custom and tradition. But culture is not a museum in which every inherited practice must remain untouched.

Our society has transformed its educational aspirations, economic relationships, political institutions and lifestyles. Women pursue higher education, build careers and participate increasingly in public life. Yet practices that can leave wives and children emotionally distressed, financially insecure and socially vulnerable often remain shielded from serious scrutiny.

Tradition can explain the origin of a practice; it cannot, by itself, establish that the practice is just. Nor does the existence of a customary arrangement mean that every woman affected by it has freely consented. Social pressure, financial dependence and fear of ostracism can severely limit a woman's choices.

The argument is not that indigenous traditions should be discarded. It is that cultural identity must not become a shield against reform.

In 2023, the proposed Arunachal Pradesh Monogamy Election Eligibility Bill brought the question of monogamy into public and political debate. The issue deserves renewed consideration, extending beyond electoral eligibility to the rights and welfare of women and children.

I believe Arunachal needs a clear legal framework to address polygamy and protect existing spouses. Criminalisation and proportionate penalties should be considered through a constitutionally sound legislative process that carefully examines customary practices, existing marriages and the rights of all affected parties.

India's personal laws do not apply uniformly to every community. Hindu marriage law prohibits a second marriage during the subsistence of a valid first marriage, while customary marriages among certain tribal communities raise distinct legal questions. Any proposed reform must address these complexities, rather than assume that the same rules already apply to everyone. The objective must be meaningful accountability, not the selective punishment of women.

Have we really progressed?

Let us return to the Wodaabe and their Gerewol festival.

Their men display physical attributes to attract women. Our modern-day peacocks may display wealth, property, vehicles and political influence. Such courtship is not inherently wrong; adults are entitled to choose their partners.

The problem begins when the pursuit of personal gratification disregards existing commitments and leaves spouses and children to absorb the consequences.

The deeper irony is that we embrace modern education, technology, wealth and political institutions while remaining stubbornly conservative about women's suffering.

If our ancestors lived in a vastly different socio-cultural environment; should we not possess the wisdom to distinguish between traditions worth preserving and practices requiring reform?

Progress does not demand that we abandon our identity. It demands that we examine it honestly.

The Miss Arunachal controversy should not become an occasion for endlessly humiliating one woman while allowing the wider social pattern to escape scrutiny. Nor should influential men be insulated from criticism because of their wealth, status or connections.

We must ask ourselves: What standards do we apply to our public representatives, government officials, businessmen and community leaders? Do we scrutinise their conduct with equal seriousness?

The peacock dance may continue, but we can change the rules by which we live together.

We can refuse to make the first wife the sole custodian of a marriage's dignity. We can demand accountability without gender discrimination. And we can insist that cultural pride must never become an excuse for unequal treatment.

The real measure of a progressive society is not how magnificently its peacocks display their feathers, but how fairly it treats those left wounded by their dance. (The contributor is an independent researcher based in Tezu, Lohit.)