IT was during a monotonous evening of beedi cigarette-rolling in the Kalindi family’s tiny mud hut that the mother of the house made her startling announcement: it was time for her 12-year-old daughter Rekha to marry, she declared.

Brides as young as 10 are commonplace in Bararolo village in the heart of rural West Bengal, where the literacy rates are among India’s lowest, but Rekha had decided her life would be different.

“When my mother said my parents were preparing my wedding, I was really angry. I thought of my school life. My friends would be going to school, and I wouldn’t be, and that made me very unhappy,” she said.

Encouraged by her elder sister, who had been unhappily married at 11, and by her teacher, Rekha eventually persuaded her parents to let her finish school and remain unmarried until she was at least 18.

A confident, articulate girl, she has now become the national symbol of a campaign against child marriage, and has started a ripple of similar protests by girls of her age in the surrounding towns and vil-lages.Since her refusal to marry last September, she has graced the front pages of India’s newspapers and has been invited to meet the country’s first woman president, Pratibha Patil.

Last month Rekha addressed 6,000 beedi workers, urging them not to give up their daughters for marriage before adulthood. She has offered support to children in a similar position to her through a newsletter called New Light, on the editorial board of which she sits.

Rekha’s case is by no means isolated. Despite a 1978 law barring under18s from marrying, 40% of the world’s child marriages still take place in India.

According to a 2009 report by the United Nations Children’s Fund, Unicef, 45% of Indian women currently aged 20-24 were married before they were 18, 23% were married before they were 16 and 2.6% before they were 13.

Rekha had worked rolling beedi from the age of five but had happily started school with the help of Unicef and the local authorities. In her spare time, she enjoyed making floor mats with her best friend Budhamani, and she still helped her parents roll beedi, which earned the family of seven 600 rupees (£8.25) a month.

This pitiful income confined them to a cramped hut 5ft by 7ft with no electricity, running water or lavatory.

Rekha was seen as a financial burden, making marriage a more attractive option than further education. But her own mind had been shaped by a Unicef project, which had taught her about children’s rights, education and the dangers of early marriage.

A study published in The Lancet last month warned that child brides face a grave risk of complications or death in pregnancy and that their babies are prone to sickness.

Rekha had seen the reality of child pregnancies: her sister Jyotsna had lost four babies before their first birthdays. Now, she may not be able to have any more children.

“My sister’s experience was a lesson for me. I told my father very clearly that I was at the age where I should be going to school and that I didn’t want to get married,” said Rekha.

In response, her father, Jagdish, stopped her food, water and soap for several days. Even her mother, Menaka, who had married at 10, was unsympathetic.

So Rehka sought support from 12-year-old Budhamani and the girls went to their teacher, Arjun Pramanik, for help. After a month of reasoning with Rekha’s parents, Pramanik finally talked them round.

Jagdish Kalindi, a frail, shy man, said last week he was proud of his daughter. “I’m very happy that she is meeting the president of India, and I’m happy with her decision to continue her studies,” he said.

Her story soon had an impact on the local community. “What is encouraging is that since Rekha’s revolt, in her village and surrounding villages there has not been a single child marriage,” said Prosenjit Kundu, assistant commissioner at the local government.

Afsana Khatun, 13, from the village of Kartin Para, was promised in marriage. Her parents had gone through the first rituals by presenting her to her future inlaws.

With the help of her teachers, however, Afsana also persuaded her parents. Her friend Roxana, 13, said that she too had been spared a premature marriage.

“Initially, these were just like other girls. But when the situation demanded, they came out and did an extraordinary job,” said Kundu. “They have learnt to speak their minds.”

For Unicef and other organisations, children such as Rekha are invaluable in breaking down entrenched views.

“A young girl like Rehka can be an incredibly powerful agent of change. It’s about the unsung heroes who are strong and brave enough to stand up to society,” said Sarah Crowe, Unicef spokeswoman in Delhi.

With no marriage for which to prepare, Rekha can now concentrate on her own ambitions to be a teacher.

“If another girl in another village faces the same situation, then we are all friends and I will personally go to her parents to persuade them that she is too young and needs an education,” she said.

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