Looking at her dimunitive frame, you can hardly tell that Mukri, 20, has shouldered so much burden at such a young age. At four, when girls her age are playing with dolls, she was married to another toddler, Prehlad Meena, of Kalaru village in Jaipur district. At age 10, when she had not even learnt the meaning of marriage, she was a widow. On the 13th day ritual of her husband's death, she was remarried to her younger brother-in-law, three-year-old Prakash.

Nature has strange ways of correcting man's mistakes. When she was 18, Mukri fell in love with her husband's cousin, Ram Karan, a final year BA student who was sympathetic, intelligent and had a keen sense of humour. More importantly, he was 20 and Mukri found it easier to relate to him than to the childish banter of 11-year-old Prakash. In April last year, Mukri eloped with Karan. Her family lodged a case of kidnapping against Karan but it was dropped when Mukri told the magistrate that she had accompanied Karan willingly. The couple is now living happily on the outskirts of Jaipur.

Abu Bai of Kelukhera village of Chittorgarh was also married off as a child to Ramesh Balai, who was four years younger than his bride. When she reached 18, Abu Bai went to stay with her husband. "I spent a month with him but wasn't happy," she says. So she ran away with Manohar Lal Salvi, a farmer friend. The couple recently had a son.

Such stories are common in Rajasthan. The state police registers an average of seven cases every day in which a woman or a girl is "kidnapped". The latest report of the National Crime Record Bureau says that Rajasthan has the highest number of such cases per lakh of population among Indian states. The predominantly rural districts of Chittorgarh and Bhilwara and the urbanised Jaipur district account for the bulk of these-almost 30 per cent of the estimated 2,600 kidnapping cases registered in the state in a year.

Most of the time, however, the girls have not been abducted but-like Mukri and Abu Bai-have run away on their own. An analysis of 401 of the 570 cases registered in Bhilwara, Chittorgarh and Jaipur till September 2001 reveals interesting statistics: almost 60 per cent of the women who left home were married, almost 70 per cent of them were adults and, significantly, 95 per cent had gone of their own volition.

The answer to why so many women run away from their husbands' homes cannot come from a sweeping generalisation of as complex a thing as human nature. But one aspect of this social phenomenon is apparent: the mismatch arising from child marriage, the medieval scourge that is still prevalent in Rajasthan, is the root of marital discord and the motive for women to leave their husbands. These days a bride comes to live with her husband when she is around 16 years. Her childhood leaves her open to liberal tribal influences-like being able to choose one's spouse. This creates a problem when she begins living with a stranger of a husband and often leads to serious problems.

Bhanwar Rawat, 20, a marginal farmer from Chittorgarh district was allegedly assaulted by his wife. Manju, 18, had made her dislike for him apparent from the very beginning, spending just 10 days in the first year of marriage with him. Last month, after Rawat brought her back from her parent's house, she injured his genitals. Charged with assault, she is now out on bail and lives with her parents. "I am waiting for the case to be over so that I can settle down with someone I like," says an unrepentant Manju.

Frustration may have forced Manju to take an extreme step, but every year thousands of women in Rajasthan prefer the simpler-and quieter-route of eloping with their lovers. Their husbands lodge cases of kidnapping but even if the police manage to trace the couple, the runaway bride declines to return. Santosh, 20, and Durga Regar, 35, of Sabalpur village in Bhilwara had been married for three years but the considerable difference in their age made Santosh seek a younger soulmate. She found one in their neighbour, 26-year-old Hemraj Meena, and the two left for Jaipur. After Durga lodged an fir against Meena for kidnapping his wife, the police managed to trace them to the state capital. In her statement to the judicial magistrate, Santosh said she had gone with Meena of her free will and wanted to stay with him. "I am happy now," she told india today, caressing her eight-month-old daughter fathered by Meena.

These cases seem to show that women are no longer willing to tolerate mismatches. "Many women come to me and categorically say that their husbands are not sexually fit for them and so they want to look for alternatives," discloses Tara Ahluwalia, Bhilwara-based social activist. And since it is difficult for a woman to remarry once she bears a child, there are many who want to leave their husbands at the first opportunity. The high number of elopements in the state could also be explained by the feudal mindset in rural Rajasthan. Registration of marriages is unheard of. Instead, many depend on their caste panchyats to solve marital problems. Says Ajit Singh Shekhawat, dig of Police, Jaipur: "Caste panchyats have evolved different customs and practises at different places and enforce these through threats of social boycott." Says Anil Paliwal, sp, Chittorgarh: "Community panchayats encourage promiscuity through easy remarriages."

Indeed, the ease with which these quasi-judicial panchayats approve separations and remarriages make a fast-track court appear slow. Panchayats allow women the freedom to dissolve a marriage if she is not happy. Srinivas Rao Janga, sp, Bhilwara, is shocked by this libertarian trend: "I find an advanced state of Americanised society prevalent in our rural areas."

All panchayats practise customs called the nata (relationship) and jhagda (remuneration to end disputes). In these the man with whom the woman chooses to stay pays her husband compensation. The husband also gets back jewellery he has given his wife. However, in places like Devli in Tonk, this tradition is freely used to allow a man to trade his wife to a man of his liking. The girl's parents also get a share of the jhagda amount-usually Rs 10,000 to Rs 1 lakh-putting marriages at risk of manipulation by greedy relatives.

When Kamla, 18, of Keria Kheri village in Bhilwara eloped with Bhanwar Jat, her parents lodged a case of kidnapping against him. Ultimately, Bhanwar Jat gave Rs 1 lakh to her parents as jhagda. But when Kamla left Bhanwar Jat for Radheyshyam a month later, her parents gave that money to Radheyshyam to enable him to pay Bhanwar Jat the jhagda.

The whole affair can sometimes reach ridiculous levels. Lad, 23, a child bride of Bagore village in Bhilwara deserted by her husband, ran away with her younger sister's father-in-law, Shiv Lal Jat. Her father Ram Lal Jat lodged a complaint. When the couple was traced, Lad told the police that after her failed child marriage, she did not want to marry anyone of her father's choice. A settlement was arrived at in which her father got Rs 30,000 and her first husband, Rs 45,000. Gangapur dsp Rajkumar witnessed the amusing spectacle of the charged atmosphere suddenly turning cordial after the agreement had been reached.

Not surprisingly, most cases registered in the state say the girls are minors. Often greedy parents get their daughters to give a false testimony to extract money from her paramour. Lad Kumari of Soji Khera village in Bhilwara, was engaged to Lahru, who paid Rs 60,000 to her widowed mother. Even before the nuptials could be performed, Lad started staying with Lahru and became pregnant. Her mother lodged a case of kidnapping against Lahru. Lad told the police she had stayed with Lahru on her own but retracted when she met her mother. A medical examination put her age below 18 and if the court judges her a minor, Lahru may end up facing a rape charge.

"The fragility of relations is affecting the concept of the family," says Janga. He suggests making registration of marriages compulsory, not only to make them harder to dissolve but also to dilute the role of caste panchayats. Love, deceit and revenge could then be less of a social menace in Rajasthan.