By Sujit Bhar
The recent ruling of the Madurai Bench of the Madras High Court, delivered by Justice S Srimathy, has stirred a complex debate at the intersection of law, morality, gender justice, and evolving social relationships. While dismissing a petition for anticipatory bail filed by a man accused of engaging in sexual relations with a woman on the false promise of marriage, the Court went a step further by observing that women in live-in relationships ought to be granted the status of “wife” for the purpose of legal protection.
To justify this position, the Court invoked the ancient Hindu concept of Gandharva marriage, a form of union based on mutual consent without formal rituals.
At first glance, the ruling appears progressive and well-intentioned, driven by a desire to protect women from exploitation in relationships that exist outside the traditional institution of marriage. The judge also highlighted a disturbing social tendency: men who willingly enter live-in relationships often embrace “modernity” at the outset, only to question a woman’s character when the relationship deteriorates. This hypocrisy, the Court noted, leaves women particularly vulnerable in the absence of clear legal safeguards.
However, the judgment raises several uncomfortable questions—legal, social, and philosophical—that merit careful scrutiny.
A QUESTION OF INTENT
One of the central assumptions underlying the Court’s observations is that a live-in relationship carries an implicit promise of marriage. This assumption, however, is deeply problematic.
The very reason many modern couples opt for live-in relationships is precisely because they are uncertain about long-term compatibility. Live-in arrangements allow individuals to share domestic space, emotional intimacy, and even physical relationships without the immediate pressure of a lifelong legal commitment. For many, it is a conscious choice to postpone—or even entirely avoid—marriage.
To treat every live-in relationship as a prelude to marriage is to misunderstand its social function. Such an approach risks collapsing the distinction between cohabitation and matrimony, a distinction that modern jurisprudence has so far tried to respect. The Supreme Court itself, in multiple rulings, has recognised live-in relationships as legitimate, but distinct social arrangements, not as informal marriages in disguise.
There is no dispute that Indian law recognises deception as a ground for criminal liability in sexual relationships. Section 69 of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita explicitly criminalises sexual relations obtained through deception or false promises of marriage. Courts have repeatedly held that consent obtained under such false assurances is no consent at all.
In the case before the Madurai Bench, the prosecution alleged that the man had physical relations with the woman on multiple occasions after promising marriage, only to later renege on that promise. If proven, such conduct would clearly fall within the ambit of Section 69, and the Court was well within its rights to deny anticipatory bail.
However, the more difficult question arises in scenarios where no explicit promise of marriage was made. What if two consenting adults decide to set up a shared home, fully aware that marriage is not guaranteed, and later the woman insists on marriage while the man refuses? Can this refusal, in itself, be criminalised?
If the answer is yes, then the law risks converting failed relationships into criminal cases, blurring the line between deception and emotional disappointment. Criminal law, by its very nature, must be applied cautiously, especially in matters involving consent between adults. To treat every breakdown of a live-in relationship as evidence of criminal intent would be both unjust and dangerous.
MARRIAGE AS A LEGAL CONTRACT
Perhaps the most contentious aspect of the judgment is the suggestion that courts may treat women in live-in relationships as “wives” for the purpose of protection. Marriage, under Indian law, is not merely a social or religious institution; it is a legal contract that requires the consent of both parties and compliance with statutory formalities.
Whether under Hindu law, Muslim law, or secular statutes such as the Special Marriage Act, marriage creates a bundle of rights and obligations—maintenance, inheritance, legitimacy of children, and more. These rights arise not from cohabitation alone, but from a legally recognised union.
Can a judge unilaterally declare a woman to be a “wife” when no such contract ever existed? Doing so raises serious constitutional concerns. It effectively imposes marital obligations on one party without consent, undermining the very autonomy that modern courts claim to protect. While judicial creativity has often been used to advance social justice, it cannot override the fundamental requirement of mutual consent that lies at the heart of marriage.
The Court’s reliance on the ancient concept of Gandharva marriage also warrants caution. While Hindu scriptures may recognise various forms of marriage, modern Indian law does not automatically validate all of them. The Hindu Marriage Act, 1955, codifies marriage requirements in clear statutory terms. Selectively invoking ancient concepts risks romanticising tradition while ignoring the legal framework that governs contemporary society.
Moreover, Gandharva marriage was premised on mutual consent. To invoke it in a situation where one party disputes the existence of a marital promise seems contradictory. Ancient concepts cannot be selectively used to justify outcomes that modern law does not support.
PROTECTION OR PATERNALISM?
The judge’s concern for the vulnerability of women in live-in relationships is genuine and necessary. Women often face social stigma, economic insecurity, and moral policing when such relationships end. The legal system must address these realities.
However, protection should not slide into paternalism. Declaring women in live-in relationships as “wives” may inadvertently reinforce the idea that a woman’s dignity and security derive only from marriage. This runs counter to decades of feminist jurisprudence that has sought to affirm women’s autonomy independent of marital status.
In an age where education, economic independence, and individual choice increasingly shape personal relationships, the law must adapt without imposing outdated moral frameworks. Interpersonal relationships today are complex, negotiated, and deeply personal. Judicial overreach, even when well-intentioned, risks oversimplifying this complexity.
A REGRESSIVE ORDER?
Whether this order will ultimately be termed regressive remains to be seen. Its intent—to protect women from exploitation—is unquestionably laudable. But its implications are troubling. By equating live-in relationships with marriage, the ruling may deter individuals from entering such arrangements altogether, or worse, encourage the misuse of criminal law in private disputes.
The challenge before the judiciary is to strike a delicate balance: safeguarding women from deception and abuse without criminalising consensual adult relationships or rewriting the legal meaning of marriage. The answer lies not in judicially declaring relationships into marriages, but in crafting nuanced legal protections that recognise autonomy, consent, and equality.
In trying to protect women, the law must ensure it does not end up constraining them.
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