Prior to the enactment of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, the offence of sexual intercourse on a false promise of marriage did not receive explicit statutory recognition under the Indian Penal Code, 1860. Rather, the concept emerged through judicial interpretation. Indian courts, in a series of decisions, interpreted Section 375 IPC (rape) by importing the definition of consent contained in Section 90 IPC. Section 90 provides that consent is vitiated when it is given under a misconception of fact. On this judicial premise, courts evolved the doctrine that consent obtained for sexual intercourse on the basis of a false promise of marriage amounts to consent given under a misconception of fact and is, therefore, legally invalid. Consequently, such acts were brought within the ambit of “Secondly—without her consent” under Section 375 IPC and treated as constituting rape.
The legislative position, however, has undergone a significant shift with the introduction of Section 69 of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, 2023, which has replaced the Indian Penal Code. Section 69 specifically criminalises sexual intercourse induced by a false pretext of marriage or by deceitful means. The insertion of this provision reflects a conscious and deliberate legislative choice to carve out this conduct as a distinct offence, separate from the offence of rape.
This statutory segregation clearly manifests the legislative intent that sexual intercourse on a false promise of marriage is not to be equated with rape. Unlike Section 375, which is premised on the absence of consent, Section 69 places the emphasis on deception or fraudulent inducement as the gravamen of the offence. Accordingly, the enactment of Section 69 conclusively reinforces the position that cases involving a false promise of marriage were never intended to fall within the statutory contours of rape under the IPC, and that the earlier judicial interpretation stood on a different footing from the present legislative framework.
The fundamental question, therefore, is whether cases involving a false promise of marriage should at all be registered under the rubric of rape. By enacting a separate and standalone offence, Parliament has unequivocally rejected the proposition that such conduct forms part of the offence of rape. Once the legislature has consciously drawn this distinction, the continued registration of such cases as rape would be directly contrary to legislative intent.
In practice, allegations arising from failed relationships or broken promises of marriage are frequently registered under the offence of rape, leading to the immediate invocation of stringent penal consequences such as arrest, custodial interrogation, and prolonged pre-trial incarceration. These cases often involve consensual relationships spanning months or years, where the promise of marriage is alleged to have been withdrawn at a later stage due to supervening circumstances. The absence of a clear statutory framework under the IPC resulted in such disputes being mechanically categorised as rape, without a nuanced examination of intent, deception, or the nature of consent at the time of the sexual act. It is this disconnect between lived social realities and the doctrinal foundations of rape law that the legislature has now sought to correct through the enactment of Section 69 of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita. I will now examine two distinct situations from the respective perspectives of the accused and the de facto complainant, and analyse how the present legal framework impacts each of them.
A few months ago, I conducted the trial in a Sessions Case where my client faced allegations of repeated rape on the false promise of marriage. He was the sole accused. At the time of the alleged incident, he was employed with Apple Inc. in Hyderabad, working outside Kerala.
He was arrested directly from his workplace, spent 22 days in judicial custody, and eventually lost his job as a direct consequence of the criminal proceedings. The prosecution case was that he had repeatedly raped the de-facto complainant after assuring her of marriage.
The evidence, however, told a very different story. My client and the complainant were in a consensual romantic relationship. Over time, the relationship turned toxic, compelling my client to walk away. Unable to accept the breakup, the complainant initiated criminal proceedings, branding a failed relationship as rape. My client was repeatedly pressured to “settle” the matter by paying compensation, failing which he was told he would have to face a rape trial. He refused to succumb, and I stood by him in his decision to face the trial.
After more than two years of litigation, the Sessions Court acquitted him in unequivocal terms, holding:
“PW1 (the de-facto complainant) has proved herself to be an untrustworthy witness. She is merely telling tales out of her imagination. She had a consensual sexual relationship with the accused and later, when the relationship turned sour, she is trying to portray it as rape before the Court. She cannot be believed.”
This relief came after a prolonged legal battle, 22 days of incarceration, and irreversible damage to his career and reputation. One question continues to linger: what criminal offence did he truly commit? He was in love, and when the relationship became untenable, he chose to walk away.
The Hon’ble Supreme Court, in Amol Bhagwan Nehul v. State of Maharashtra [2025 (4) KHC 607 (SC)], has categorically held that a consensual relationship turning sour or partners drifting apart cannot be a ground to invoke the criminal machinery of the State. Such misuse not only burdens the justice system but permanently scars individuals accused of heinous offences. The case I handled was a textbook example of the very mischief cautioned against by the Supreme Court. It was not the first such case—and it certainly will not be the last.
In stark contrast, I was involved in another case where I represented the de-facto complainant. The allegations included repeated rape on the false promise of marriage, causing miscarriage, house-breaking, theft in a dwelling house, and non-consensual capture and transmission of intimate images.
The victim was a young, vibrant practising lawyer. Behind her confident exterior lay profound personal tragedies including losing her father at a young age and a failed marriage that lasted less than a month. While she was rebuilding her life and practice, she suffered another devastating loss: the death of her mother, to whom she was deeply attached.
It was during this vulnerable phase that the accused—also a lawyer—entered her life. She saw him as a pillar of support; he saw her merely as a means to satisfy his lust. He promised marriage, conducted a mock ceremony in front of a temple, and began living with her. She soon became pregnant. While the accused insisted on an abortion, the victim agreed only on the condition that they marry first.
The accused initiated marriage registration under the Special Marriage Act online, only to coerce her into undergoing the abortion. Once the abortion was completed, he abandoned the registration process and walked away. He fled from the house where they lived together, taking her money, gold, and property documents.
Adding insult to injury, the accused rushed to the police at midnight and filed a complaint alleging cheating, seeking to implicate the victim under Section 420 of the IPC. When the victim later approached the police to report her missing valuables, she discovered that a complaint was already pending against her. Upon realising the genuineness of her grievance, the police registered her case first. The accused subsequently secured pre-arrest bail and pursued a private complaint, ensuring that an FIR was registered against the victim as well.
After sexually exploiting her, emotionally destroying her, and robbing her of her belongings, the accused still presumed she was alone—that no one would stand by her. He was wrong.
In both these cases, the law was abused. In both, there was a victim—but not in the same way. In one, a man lost his job, career, and reputation. In the other, a woman was mentally shattered, emotionally tortured, and pushed to the brink of ending her life.
So the uncomfortable truth must be acknowledged.
Are all rape cases involving a promise of marriage genuine? No.
Are all such cases false? Also no.
The answer lies not in blanket assumptions, but in careful scrutiny, judicial sensitivity, and an unwavering commitment to justice for both the accused and the victim.
*Raghul Sudheesh is an Advocate Practicing before the Hon’ble High Court of Kerala.