Live-in Agreements and the Law – Law School Policy Review

*Diksha Sanyal

(Source:IndiaFilings)

This piece examines the growing use of live in relationship agreements in India, which are informal notarised documents couples use to navigate the uncertain legal status of non-marital cohabitation. Although these agreements have no formal recognition under law, they are increasingly cited in judicial decisions, especially across courts in northern and western India. The essay traces their origins and shows that their main purpose is to serve as evidence in legal proceedings such as protection petitions, bail applications, and habeas corpus cases. Rather than functioning as enforceable contracts, these agreements help perform legality by establishing consent and verifying that both individuals are adults. Drawing from court records and lawyer-generated content on social media platforms, the essay argues that live in agreements reflect an evolving legal awareness. They occupy a space between what is legal and extra legal, suggesting the need for more grounded and responsive legal frameworks for addressing non-marital relationships in India.

In January 2025, Justice Anup Kumar Dhand of the Rajasthan High Court, directed the state government to create a mechanism for registering live-in relationships through formal agreements. Interestingly, Justice Dhand also suggested that such agreements contain terms pertaining to the maintenance of the female partner and any children born out of such relationships.

At first glance, this recommendation may seem like a novel legal idea. However, a closer analysis of judicial orders available on platforms like Indiankanoon, reveals a more complex picture. “Live-in agreements” have appeared in judicial orders since 2010. The number of orders referencing such agreements, the bulk of which are from Rajasthan High Court and Gujarat High Court, has only increased over the last 15 years.

This is striking because such agreements have no clear legal status. They are neither recognised by statute nor explicitly upheld by judicial precedent. Typically, they are simple affidavits drafted on stamp paper and notarised by a public notary. Courts have rarely examined their validity, content, or broader implications—Justice Dhand’s order being a rare exception. Yet, their use in litigation continues to grow.

Why, then, do litigants rely on these agreements despite their legal ambiguity? This essay explores the growing and routine use of live-in agreements as a form of legal practice. It draws on judicial orders and legal content shared on social media—particularly YouTube videos and reels by lawyers—to map how these agreements are used. Working backwards to understand where such agreements are being used, helps us understand what these agreements are for and how the formal legal system ought to be respond to them.

The first part of the blog traces the origins and growing prevalence of this phenomenon. The second part examines the legal status of live-in agreements. Following that, I illustrate the real, everyday uses of these agreements through an empirical study of judicial orders that reference them. Lastly, I reflect on the need to shift the focus from debating their substantive legal value to appreciating their aesthetic role in performing legality. I conclude by arguing that studying these agreements offers insights into the legal consciousness of people, making it an essential piece of the larger puzzle of legal reform for non-marital relationships.

Locating Live-in Relationship Agreements

I first came across live-in relationship agreements somewhat serendipitously while searching Indiankanoon, for orders related to friendship agreementsor maitri karaars. After conducting a more thorough search, I was able to locate 369 judicial orders referencing such agreements (sometimes also called a ‘live-in relationship deed’) between 2010 and December 2024. The earliest of these orders is a 2010 Gujarat High Court order.

Although the total number of judicial orders may seem modest over a span of 14 years, their steady rise points to an emerging legal trend. Most of these orders come from High Courts in northern and western India—specifically Gujarat, Rajasthan, Delhi, Uttar Pradesh, Punjab, Haryana, Madhya Pradesh, and Maharashtra. The table below presents a year- and court-wise breakdown of these references.

Table 1: Year and court-wise breakdown of the number of judicial orders from 2010-2024

Not only did the Rajasthan High court pass the highest number of orders referencing such agreements (a total of 174 orders), but it also demonstrated the sharpest increase in the use of such agreements over the years. For instance, in 2020, I found only 5 such orders that mentioned live-in agreements in Rajasthan. By 2023, that number of such orders had risen to 71. In 2024 alone, I found 50 such relevant orders in the state.

The table below (table 2) shows the number of relevant orders found from each High Court till December 2024.

Table 2: Number of relevant order found from High Courts till December 2024.

Apart from judicial orders, another vital source of information on these agreements come from social media platforms like YouTube where several lawyers have started uploading short informative videos and reels on these agreements. These videos and reels provide practical guidance on drafting such agreements, getting them notarised and explaining their significance (see for instance, here,  here, here, here and here). Most of this content has appeared in the last two to three years, suggesting perhaps a growing demand for such agreements.

Cohabitation Contracts or Something Else Entirely?

At first glance, it might be easy to confuse live-in relationship agreements with cohabitation contracts. In many jurisdictions, a cohabitation contract is a legally valid way of defining legal and financial responsibilities, property rights, childcare responsibilities and terms of separation for a cohabiting couple. In fact, in the UK where a common law presumption of marriage does not operate, drafting cohabitation contracts is advisable.

Live-in agreements in India may at first, appear to be like these cohabitation contracts. Judicial orders refer to them as “agreements,” underscoring the mutual consent of the parties involved. On YouTube, lawyers recommend including provisions on shared finances, property division, childcare, and separation terms—all of which would be a part of regular cohabitation contracts as well. (See for instance, this reel and video).

Legally however, the enforceability of these agreements as contracts is untested and doubtful. Arguably, these agreements lack any ‘lawful consideration’ and could be labelled as being contrary to ‘public policy’­­ for weakening marriage by encouraging adultery (for instance, where the live-in partners may have spouses from a previous, valid, subsisting marriage).  The lack of valid consideration (section 2(d), Indian Contract Act, 1872) and the potential conflict against norms of public policy (section 23, Indian Contract Act, 1872) may lead to such agreements as being invalidated as contracts.

In at least two instances, High Courts have made obiter observations to this effect. The case of  Moyna Khatun v. State of Punjab, involved a young couple who had entered into such an agreement since the male live-in partner was below the age of marriage under Hindu law (19 years) and was thus unable to marry his female live-in partner. Both parties were adults.  In this case, the Punjab & Haryana High Court observed that live-in agreements were nothing other than a ‘misuse of the process of law’ and could thus not be ‘morally accepted’.

In another case, Gorkha Ram v. State of Rajasthan where a brother and sister were allegedly living together through a live-in relationship agreement, the court observed that such an agreement violated Section 23 of the Indian Contract Act, 1872, which requires that the object of the agreement be lawful. Since the agreement was promoting an incestuous relationship, it could not be lawful, the court reasoned.  

These observations were not supported by detailed legal reasoning and are reflective of judicial discomfort with legitimising relationships that might be considered ‘immoral’. But as one commentator has noted, it might be worth re-examining the public policy restriction in light of shifts in societal values and evolving legal jurisprudence.

 What are live-in agreements really used for?

Notwithstanding the debate around whether such agreements can be interpreted as valid contracts, I argue that this debate obscures the real purpose of these agreements. This becomes evident through a systemic analysis of the types of cases in which such agreements are referenced.

There are three major types of cases where live-in agreements are used:

First, in protection matters. Out of the 369 judicial orders analysed, nearly 47% (173 out of 369) involved the use of live-in agreements to secure a protection order for the couple. In these cases, couples file writ petitions under Article 226, seeking protection from the local police against real or anticipated threats from their families or social interference. The live-in agreement helps establish the consensual nature of the relationship and verifies that the couple are adults, as their age and identity are confirmed by a public notary at the time of execution. In most such cases, courts typically grant protection. (Some examples of such orders can be found here, here and here)

. Second, in bail matters and FIR quashing involving male live-in partners. Another major use (141 out of 369 orders, or 38%) appears in bail and FIR quashing proceedings. These petitions are typically filed by male live-in partners seeking regular or anticipatory bail in cases involving charges like rape, kidnapping, abduction, or illegal confinement—filed by their female live-in partners. The agreement is used as part of a broader defence strategy to argue that the charges were falsely made, either under family pressure, following the breakdown of the relationship, or with the intent to extort. Since marital rape is not recognised in India, relationships outside marriage are perceived as more vulnerable to allegations of sexual assault. Last year, a Mumbai lawyer secured anticipatory bail for his client, accused of rape by his female live-in partner, citing such a live-in agreement, which generated considerable media attention. ( Some examples of such orders can be found here, here and here)

Third, in habeas corpus petitions. Of the 369 orders, 45 (around 12%) involved habeas corpus matters. In most of these, the female live-in partner was the ‘corpus’—the individual allegedly detained and to be produced before the court. Here too, the live-in agreement served as evidence of a close, intimate bond between the parties, establishing the male partner’s locus standi to file the petition. (Some examples of such orders can be found here, here and here)

This preliminary analysis suggests that the primary value of these agreements lies not in their contractual enforceability, but rather, their evidentiary function. Their intended use is not to formalise cohabitation per se, but to prove the nature of the relationship in two key ways: first, by showing both parties were adults at the time of signing; and second, by establishing mutual consent. This interpretation is also substantiated by many of the videos and reels uploaded by lawyers on such agreements. One lawyer suggested that such agreements worked as a ‘bulletproof jacket’ for the male partner entering into such an agreement, by giving him some evidentiary tool to defend himself against ‘false charges’ of rape and sexual assault. This view seems to be shared by other male lawyers as well (see here and here) uploading content on live-in agreements on YouTube.

 Performing Legality

The case of live-in agreements demonstrates that at times, the aesthetic performance of legality is as, or more important than the substantive content of the law itself. Despite the lack of any clear legal status, these agreements have become a common legal practice across High Courts in the country. How did this happen?

One answer is to look at the way these agreements are drawn up: on a non-judicial stamp paper affidavit and notarised by a public notary. Such stamp paper affidavits are a ubiquitous and quotidian feature of the Indian legal system. Most people who have had any encounter with the Indian legal machinery, or with performing any bureaucratic, commercial, or administrative tasks in India, would be familiar with them. A whitish, pale-green document embossed with the Indian national emblem and the words Satyameva Jayate (Truth Alone Triumphs) printed across it, it is easily purchasable in any court complex in the country at various denominations—Rs. 50, 100, 500.The ability of such documents to straddle the liminal space between legality and illegality has enabled it to thrive.

This piece of official-looking paper, along with the public notaries who verify and authenticate it, is a commonly used mechanism to draw up gift deeds, rent agreements, and powers of attorney, among other things. It operates as a sworn declaration of fact. For lawyers, judges, and litigants who encounter such documents daily, they are utterly unremarkable and insignificant—a fragment of the paper economy that facilitates the administration of law without drawing too much critical scrutiny or attention.

In one sense, it is its very unremarkability that allows it to circulate within everyday life in a variety of ways, not all of which are entirely ‘legal’. Scholars have begun documenting the various ways in which these artefacts of truth are frequently corrupted and manipulated in everyday life. For instance, in her article, Shreemoyee Nandini Ghosh notes how such documents are frequently used to draw up bigamous or ‘unofficial’ marriage agreements and divorces, compromise deeds in rape cases, bonds of good behaviour by violent husbands, and even as petitions to gods in temples. Though none of these uses are legal, the official character and their ability to straddle the liminal space between legality and illegality, has enabled them to thrive.

Glimpses of Legal Consciousness

Sometimes, there can be a substantial gap between ‘Law’ as lawyers understand it and the way ordinary people experience and interpret it in everyday life. It is within this gap that hybrid forms of legality and legal consciousness emerge and thrive. Live-in agreements are one such example of how ordinary people and lawyers engage with law and transform it. A legal and state-authorised document, it remains nonetheless, strangely susceptible to tampering, manipulation, corruption and contamination.

This inherent duality is what makes these instruments intriguing. While these technologies of writing, documentation, and paper-based verification have colonial roots, their ability to constantly shift forms, uses, and meanings makes them difficult to slot. This flexibility, portability, and lack of fixed meaning make them ideal instruments for mediating everyday life. As they circulate through the everyday, they blur the boundaries between the legal, quasi-legal, and non-legal, transforming abstract law into something more tangible—a legal ritual of documentation and authentication.

These agreements embody an ambiguous legality. Its legal value is always contingent, never definite or guaranteed. This means it can be put to multiple ends. On the one hand, these agreements provide a form of documentation for a woman’s consent in a legal system. On the other hand, they also seemingly operate as legal shields for men, enabling some to deflect relational responsibilities and avoid criminal liability.

How the legislature and judiciary will respond to these agreements remains to be seen. At a time when legislative and judicial responses to live-in relationships remain piecemeal and inconsistent, the rise of these agreements suggests an emerging form of legal consciousness. While they may not yet constitute a parallel legal regime, their increasing usage points to the need for a more nuanced, grounded, and responsive legal approaches to non-marital relationships in India. The knee-jerk response may oscillate between banning such practices by labelling them as misuse, as some courts have already done; or direct the state to register such agreements—as Justice Dhand’s order seems to do. However, the more radical and necessary approach would be to ask why such practices emerge in the first place and unpack what that reveals about the legal consciousness of Indian people. Grappling with these questions can lead to a more nuanced re-imagining of the role of law in the regulation of non-marital relationships.