Once again, Tamil Nadu has witnessed a brutal so-called 'honor' killing. This time, it is Kevin Selvaganesh, a 27-year-old software engineer from the Scheduled Caste community, who has been hacked to death by the family of the girl he loved since childhood. Kevin, a brilliant student employed at Tata Consultancy Services, was in a relationship with Subashini, his schoolmate and girlfriend. The couple, both well-educated and professionally qualified, had plans to marry. Yet, that love story ended in bloodshed — sacrificed at the altar of caste pride.
Reports suggest the girl's family, including her brother Surjith, plotted Kevin’s murder. Both of Subashini's parents serve as sub-inspectors in the Tamil Nadu Police. Kevin had gone to meet Subashini to discuss some matters. Trusted by Kevin, Surjith lured him under the pretext of a friendly meeting — and then slaughtered him with a sickle. This was no heat-of-the-moment crime. It appears premeditated, deliberate, and rooted in caste prejudice.
Such killings expose a disturbing contradiction: Tamil Nadu — often celebrated for its progressive politics, superior social indicators, and history of anti-caste movements — remains deeply violent when caste hierarchies are challenged at a personal level. Between 2017 and 2021, there were at least 65 recorded honor killings in the state. Official records, however, list only three between 2015 and 2021. This gulf between truth and statistics is shameful.
Kevin's murder is not an isolated case — it’s part of a continuing pattern across India where caste pride and family "honor" override constitutional values and individual freedoms. Kevin’s family, though modest, was educated and upwardly mobile. His mother worked as a panchayat teacher, and his father was a farm laborer. Subashini, meanwhile, had completed a Bachelor of Siddha Medicine and Surgery and worked as a consultant. In an ideal world, this should have been a love story celebrating social mobility and inter-caste harmony. Instead, it ended as a grim reminder of our unresolved caste realities.
Kevin belonged to the Devendra Kula Vellalar, officially a Scheduled Caste group, while Subashini hailed from the Maravar community, listed as a Most Backward Class. Ironically, the Devendra Kula Vellalars have been campaigning to be delisted from the SC category, distancing themselves from the "untouchable" stigma — a movement led by Dr. K. Krishnasamy of the Puthiya Tamilagam party. This internalized caste shame and the desire to appear “pure” only perpetuate the toxic logic that led to Kevin’s murder.
What remains disturbing is that caste continues to dictate social relations, even among those who are educated, employed, and supposedly modern. No political party has the will to dismantle this structure. On the contrary, caste has become the most potent tool of political mobilization. Leaders stir pride in caste identity and invoke historical grievance, mobilizing masses with promises of dignity — all while doing nothing to end caste violence.
Even more damning is that this murder was committed by people who are part of the police system. If law enforcers themselves carry such casteist hatred, what hope do victims of caste violence have for justice? The Constitution is routinely ignored in favor of caste loyalty, and legal action is often weak, delayed, or denied. For most people, caste is not an administrative category like SC, OBC, or MBC — it's their primary social identity, their jaati, one they cling to and defend violently when it feels threatened.
Across the country, caste violence is not always acknowledged. Take the recent case of Radhika Yadav in Gurugram, killed by her father in another “honor” killing. Yet, many anti-caste intellectuals and social justice warriors remained silent. Because the caste of the perpetrator did not fit the dominant victim narrative, the issue was ignored. This selective outrage exposes the hypocrisy of those who claim to fight caste.
Tamil Nadu has had its brave exceptions. In 2016, Kausalya’s fight for justice after her husband Shankar was murdered by her own family remains a landmark case. Despite facing threats and ostracization, she stood by her in-laws and continues her activism for caste justice. But will Subashini show the same courage and fight for Kevin? We wait to see.
What we do not need is silence. Kevin’s case must not become another fleeting headline. The Tamil Nadu government must act decisively — a special court must be constituted, and the culprits, regardless of their official positions, must face the full force of the law. This cannot be treated as just another murder. It is a hate crime — one that seeks to crush love, agency, and the constitutional promise of equality.
It is time to stop pretending that education and economic growth have eliminated caste. They haven’t. The walls are intact, fortified by centuries of hierarchy and the hypocrisy of modernity. Caste is alive in every interpersonal relationship — especially in love and marriage. The anti-caste movement must rise beyond slogans, beyond symbolic gestures. It must speak clearly, without caste calculations or political convenience, against every single act of caste violence, whether in Tamil Nadu or Haryana, whether the victim is Dalit, OBC, or otherwise.
Kevin Selvaganesh’s murder should shake us out of our indifference. It is a brutal reminder that in India, caste still kills — and love, once again, is its first casualty.
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*Human rights defender
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