What One Man’s 11-Year Fight Against ‘Gaalis’ Can Teach an Internet Divided by Hashtags

On a warm afternoon in 2014, a village chaupal (community meeting) in Bibipur, Haryana, slid from discussion to shouting. Voices rose. The words turned coarse. The room treated those words as normal. Sunil Jaglan did not.

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“That day I decided I would work to end the use of gaalis,” he says. “We even put a symbolic fine of Rs 500 in the village. But a fine cannot change a habit. Conversation can.”

Where the resolve began

Two years before that chaupal moment, Jaglan had helped convene one of India’s first women-only gram sabhas (village councils). The impulse was simple. If women are missing from rooms where decisions are made, the decisions miss women.

In 2014, after he watched a mixed gathering collapse into abuse, he launched Gaali Bandh Abhiyan (Stop-Abuse Campaign) from his village Bibipur in Jind district. The starting belief was clear. Treat abusive language as a social problem. Name it. Count it. Replace it at home first.

“Change begins in families,” he says. “Children learn their first abuse at home, then carry it to school and friends. If a house becomes gaali-bandh (abuse-free), a child’s language changes.”

The map of a habit

Across 11 years, Jaglan and volunteers turned that belief into a nationwide exercise called Gaali Bandh Ghar (Abuse-Free Home). They surveyed more than 70,000 people across 28 states and 8 union territories, focusing on native residents to reflect local patterns. The core question was blunt. How often do people hear or use abuses that target mothers, sisters or daughters.

The pattern is sobering. Reported prevalence touches 80% in Delhi. Punjab is at 78%. Uttar Pradesh and Bihar are at 74%. Rajasthan is at 68%. Several North-Eastern states, including Nagaland, Manipur, Mizoram and Meghalaya, report far lower figures between 15% and 18%. Overall, a majority of respondents admitted that such language is common around them.

They also looked at professions. The reported use of such words was 77% among police personnel, 73% among lawyers, 71% among politicians, 70% among corporate professionals, 68% among journalists, 64% among sanitation workers and porters, 52% among athletes, 42% in health, and 41% among teachers. These numbers are not league tables. They are a mirror.

“I am a mathematics student,” Jaglan says. “I wanted people to see where we stand, so the data was presented in a way everyone could understand. This is not something to feel proud about. It shows how normalised verbal abuse has become.”

Turning homes into Gaali Bandh Ghar

The most disarming tool in the campaign is a sheet of paper. Families put up a simple chart on a wall. Each participating home logs the number of gaalis used that day. Schools use it too. Counting forces reflection. Reflection nudges change. Parents begin to notice how “contaminated” daily speech has become. Children begin to ask why.

One college student from Delhi phoned after a campus session. “She said her father abused all day,” Jaglan recalls. “We couriered a chart. She started writing the daily count: 50, 60, 70. She then asked him to read what those words mean. He began to stop. She helped her father leave the habit.”

Another story comes from a teacher in Hisar. He asked his grandchildren to note every time he slipped. “He told me, ‘Thank you. I can retire as a better grandfather’.”

On Raksha Bandhan, girls in several places tied rakhis with a new promise: “Raksha Bandhan ki dor, Gaali Bandhan ki or” (the Raksha Bandhan bond, towards stopping abuse). Brothers pledged never to use sister-related slurs again. A small ritual, a clear line.

A model that centres dignity at home

In Bibipur and beyond, the work has rippled into a broader practice people call the Sunil Jaglan Gram Vikas Model. It centres dignity inside the home.

• Daughter’s Nameplate: homes carry the daughter’s name at the door, not only the father’s or grandfather’s
  

• Period Chart: families track menstrual cycles on a wall calendar to enable care and conversation.
  

• Lado Pustakalaya (Girls’ Library) and Lado Panchayat (Girls’ Council): spaces that encourage girls to study, speak and participate.
  

• Gaali-Mukt School (Abuse-Free School): led by his elder daughter, children and teachers hold themselves to kinder language.

“Men must become equal participants in women’s lives,” he says. “When understanding grows, language follows. I speak openly about periods, menopause, safe sex. We run gram utsavs (village festivals) and stay in villages for six or seven days to create that atmosphere. Once homes change, schools change. Once schools change, communities shift.”

The language storm online

In recent days, social media has been debating whether reclaiming abusive words — particularly the ‘randi’ slur — can be an act of empowerment or an extension of harm. The posts are sharp, emotional, and deeply divided. Some argue that taking ownership of a word robs it of its sting. Others say that centuries of gendered insult cannot be undone with hashtags.

The truth is, this conversation matters. The words we use matter. But how we approach this debate matters even more. Outrage alone can’t rewrite vocabulary; empathy can. Jaglan’s data-led work reminds us that language reform begins not on trending pages but in living rooms, schools, and daily speech. It asks us to look inward before we post outward — to understand that changing how we speak is not censorship, it’s evolution.

Jaglan’s response is steady. “Leadership matters,” he says. “Every person has leadership in them. Sensible leadership helps us choose between right and wrong. My work is about that choice. We can pick better words. We can shape better behaviour.”

For parents worrying about what children see online, his advice is simple. “Samvaad (conversation) is the most important word.Sit with your children every day. Ask what they saw and heard. If families practise respectful speech, children mirror it.”

‘People laughed. Now they pause.’

In the early days, even friends brushed it off. “They said it is part of language. It will not go,” he says. “Today, my friends, students, even senior people do not dare use a gaali in my presence. Off-colour jokes about women have stopped in my university meetings. This is slow work, but it moves.”

Some of that movement is measurable. Hundreds of Gaali Bandh Ghar charts hang in homes and classrooms. Thousands of people have pledged to cut abusive words. The Selfie With Daughter Foundation recognises households that bring visible change with a certificate, nudging others to try.

In West Bengal, a young woman named Raihana began the gaali count at home and helped her father reduce his abuse by more than half. In Delhi, a student’s handwritten logbook became the turning point for her family. These are not viral moments. These are new family habits.

What this 11-year fight is really teaching us

What makes Gaali Bandh work is its simplicity. It doesn’t punish people for what they say. It helps them notice it. The charts are just a way to look closer at our habits — at how words slip out without thought. Once you start noticing, you start changing. And that’s where respect begins.

“Words and behaviour are the two most important things,” Jaglan says. “You can have social or economic capital, but without the right words and behaviour, you cannot be a sensible leader. Every person is a leader. Choose your words. Choose your behaviour. Our campaign exists to build that foundation.”

A simple ask for readers

If you read this today, start at home. Put up a small sheet of paper. Note every gaali for one week. Talk about what each word means and who it hurts. Replace it with silence or a kinder word. Invite your child to help you keep count. Invite your parents too. End the week with tea and a promise.

Real change does not chase a trend. It grows in rooms where people talk, listen and try again tomorrow.