In villages across northern India, the most dangerous choice young people could make is one most of us take for granted – choosing their own partner. In the rural hinterlands, the khap panchayats, traditional community organisations, mete out their own forms of justice to "erring" villagers. In recent years, they have ordered the honour killings of young couples for marrying outside their caste, for marrying within their gotra (ancient lineage as defined by Hindu tradition) and even for marrying someone from a neighbouring village. In short, one could invite censure, and usually worse, by marrying anyone against the wishes of their parents and the community patriarchs (for most of the traditional leaders are men).

This month, the supreme court issued a notice to seven states on the steps taken to protect young couples from the wrath of these khap panchayats. It is clear that in these rural areas, extra legal norms based on fossilised traditions run their writ. This happens while the state remains "a mute spectator", as admitted by the judge of the high court that was "flooded with petitions" seeking judicial confirmation of the right to life and liberty of married couples.

Of course, the khap panchayats are selective in their sanctions. In April, two low-caste Dalits were burned alive and 18 houses gutted by a mob that was hundreds-strong. Within three days of the carnage, a gathering of 43 khap panchayats resulted in no condemnation of the act, only a demand for the release of the arrested. In their various acts of moral posturing, not once has a congregation of these organisations criticised female foeticide or dowry. This is not surprising, considering the khap panchayats are part of the traditional complex of factors that promote a self-serving, caste-based, patriarchal view of social norms. This much we all acknowledge from the comfort of our city living rooms.

In national newspapers, in academic seminars or at evening soirees on the well-lit lawns of the cities, these acts are roundly condemned. Such practices are attributed to the primitive mindsets of rural India, deprived as they are of education, modernity and Coca Cola. The general consensus is that there are rural areas where the 20th century has not yet arrived. And that they are as far from the urban imagination as a foreign country. As are their "medieval" norms.

What most of us fail to see is that these norms probably enjoy as much implicit support even in the most urbanised, educated and apparently liberated sections of the country. Chandigarh is one of the best-planned cities in the country and capital to two of the most prosperous states. Its roads are teeming with SUVs, and it contributes more than its fair share of uber-fashionable models, reality TV participants and cricket stars; it is the modern Indian city. A recent survey found that more than 65% of the respondents in Chandigarh oppose marriages within the same gotra. And more than one-third of all respondents even agree that khap panchayats should order the social boycott of such couples. Across the country, urban youth are regressing towards the most conservative readings of gotra and marriage.

In the affluent, high-rent neighbourhoods of south Delhi, imported cars vie with foreign-education degrees for attention. The area is home to some of the country's most elite families. But the number of girl babies is only 845 per 1,000 boys, much lower than even the already abysmal national average of about 930. Overall urban India ranks lower than rural areas, with affluent neighbourhoods ranking among the worst. It seems higher incomes do not buy urban Indians only cars and degrees. It also buys multiple trips to illegal ultrasound clinics and female foeticide to order.

Young urban Indians now pride themselves on being online citizens of the world, proclaiming the shedding of their caste identities at parties and updating their Facebook accounts with ferocious regularity. They seem to inhabit a different world compared to the village where rural patriarchs prohibit their children from marrying outside their caste. But caste preferences weigh in as heavily among the mostly urban, net-savvy Indians as it does among the khap panchayats. A leading Indian matrimonial website found that more than 99% of its users chose to mention caste when searching for a partner.

The city is not as far from the village as we think. And primitive norms lurk not far below the veneer of modern living. Another dangerous choice we could make is to ignore how small these distances are.