This article has been written by Riddhima Jain, a first-year BBA LL.B. (Hons.) student at Christ University.
Abstract
Teenage relationships are a natural part of growing up, but when viewed through the lens of criminal law, especially the Protection of Children from Sexual Offences (POCSO) Act, they often fall into a legal grey area. While the intention behind POCSO is to protect minors from abuse, its blanket criminalization of all sexual acts under the age of 18, including consensual ones between teenagers, raises important moral and legal questions. This article critically examines whether consensual teenage love is being unfairly penalized by the current legal framework. Relying on Indian statutes such as the POCSO Act, Indian Penal Code (IPC), Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita (BNS), Juvenile Justice (JJ) Act, and recent criminal law amendments, this article aims to present an opinion-based argument that balances the protection of children with their right to autonomy.
Introduction
Love knows no age, they say. Yet the law in India is quite firm in saying that below the age of 18, consent is no consent at all. This presents a serious dilemma when two teenagers, both below 18, engage in a consensual romantic relationship that may include physical intimacy. As a law student, I was surprised to learn that under POCSO, even a simple kiss or an expression of love between two consenting minors is considered a criminal offence. What starts as “puppy love” in school corridors can turn into a full-blown criminal trial under India’s child protection laws. This contradiction between emotional maturity and legal capacity to consent lies at the heart of the POCSO puzzle. One of the most significant changes brought by POCSO was the increase in the age of sexual consent from sixteen to eighteen years. This meant that adolescents who were in romantic and consensual non-exploitative sexual relationships suddenly became criminals in the eyes of the State, worthy of harsh punishment.
The fundamental purpose of the law is to administer justice and safeguard the welfare of society, including its youngest and most vulnerable members. However, when laws are applied without considering the social and psychological development of adolescents, they can create more harm than protection. The concept of criminalizing young love under stringent legislation challenges the balance between law and human emotions. Are we truly helping minors by categorizing innocent affection as predatory behavior? Or are we punishing them for the same hormonal and emotional changes that adults once went through themselves?
When I first encountered the POCSO Act in my classes, I appreciated its strict framework to prevent child sexual abuse. However, as I read case law and real incidents, it became clear that the law, though well-meaning, often fails to distinguish between an actual offence and an act of mutual affection between peers. This paper explores that blurry line. By engaging with acts like the IPC, the new BNS, the JJ Act, and viewing reforms like the 2023 criminal law amendments, I aim to build an opinion that looks beyond black-and-white legal interpretation into the socio-legal realities of teenage lives.
Discussion
POCSO: A Protective Shield or a Double-Edged Sword?
The POCSO Act, 2012 was enacted to address the growing menace of child sexual abuse. It rightly criminalizes all forms of sexual abuse and harassment of minors (below 18 years). However, the same act does not recognize any exception for consensual acts between minors. Section 2(d) of POCSO defines a “child” as anyone below the age of eighteen, and thus, any sexual activity with a “child” becomes an offence, regardless of mutual consent.
This legal rigidity becomes even more problematic when applied in contexts where both individuals involved are of similar age and emotional development. For instance, it is not uncommon for a 17-year-old boy and a 16-year-old girl to form a romantic bond in school. However, if their relationship includes even minor physical expressions of affection, and it comes to the notice of parents or school authorities, it could lead to one of them, usually the boy, being booked under stringent provisions of the POCSO Act. In such situations, the law ceases to be a protective tool and instead becomes a source of trauma. The consequences are more severe if a 17-year-old girl and a 19-year-old boy engage in a consensual relationship; the boy can be prosecuted under POCSO, facing a minimum of 10 years in prison.
Courts have occasionally recognized this issue and tried to show empathy. In Sabari v. Inspector of Police, 2019 of Madras High court, the Bench stated that it is imperative for this Court to draw the thin line that demarcates the nature of acts that should not be made to fall within the scope of the Act, for such is the severity of the sentences provided under the Act, justifiably so, that if the acted upon hastily or irresponsibly, it could lead to irreparable damage to the reputation and livelihood of youth whose actions would have been only innocuous. In the case of Vijayalakshmi v. State Rep (2021), the judgment of Madras High court underscores the necessity for the legal system to differentiate between genuine protection of minors and the inadvertent criminalization of consensual adolescent relationships.
However, such judicial discretion is inconsistent, and unfortunately, courts are bound by the law unless the legislature amends it. The law’s silence on the age gap, emotional maturity, and voluntary participation becomes a trap for many teenagers, especially those from marginalized backgrounds, leaving them vulnerable to legal harassment.
I would also like to refer to the Netflix movie, State vs Nobody, where, a 19 year old boy finds himself in jail, charged with rape, not because he actually committed the offence, but because his minor girlfriend (17 years 11 months old) agreed for a consensual sexual relationship. Her parents, after finding out, filed a case under POCSO, putting a big stain on his character and ruining his whole life that lies ahead, all for loving someone who is just a few days away from turning a major. The film highlights a reality that we, as a society, often overlook: laws can be misused. While the POCSO Act is a much-needed legal protection for minors, its misuse can lead to ruined lives and social stigma for the wrongly accused. The film argues for thoughtful reforms—while we can’t eliminate misuse, we can certainly try to reduce it.
The Age of Consent: 16 or 18? A Confusing Shift
Before POCSO, the IPC (Section 375) set the age of consent at 16 years since the 1949’s. That meant any girl above 16 who gave consent could legally have sexual relations. However, POCSO raised this bar to 18. After the 2013 Criminal Law (Amendment) Act, the IPC was aligned with POCSO. So now, any sexual activity with a girl below 18 is rape—even if consensual. This change was aimed at stricter punishment post-Nirbhaya case, but it has blurred the lines between consensual and exploitative acts.
This shift from 16 to 18 raises critical questions. Is every individual below 18 really incapable of making decisions about their own body? Is it justified to invalidate the consent of a 17-year-old, who may be mature enough to understand the nature and consequences of their actions? By painting all sexual activity involving minors with the same brush, the law fails to distinguish between coercion and affection, abuse and love, crime and curiosity.
Many international jurisdictions, including parts of Europe and North America, follow the principle of a “close-in-age” exemption. This allows for teenagers who are close in age to engage in consensual relationships without legal repercussions. India, too, can consider this model, where relationships between individuals aged 16 to 18 are not criminalized if the age gap is within a reasonable limit and there is no element of coercion.
IPC, BNS and the Burden of Criminality
Under IPC Section 375 and now the corresponding Section 63 of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita (BNS), 2023, rape includes all non-consensual or statutorily illegal acts with minors. Both acts treat all minors as incapable of giving valid consent.
Similarly, under Section 6 of POCSO, penetrative sexual assault by a minor on another minor is also criminalized. However, courts are hesitant to prosecute both parties, leading to gendered assumptions, usually the boy is criminalized while the girl is seen as a victim, even if she was equally involved. This is problematic from a jurisprudential point of view. The principle of equality before the law, enshrined in Article 14 of the Constitution of India, is violated when one gender is disproportionately held accountable for an act that involved equal participation. By selectively prosecuting the male in heterosexual teenage relationships, the system reinforces outdated gender stereotypes. It presumes male aggression and female passivity, which not only reflects a patriarchal mindset but also undermines the autonomy of young girls.
Moreover, the trauma of facing criminal charges, arrest, media trial, and social stigma can ruin the lives of these teenagers. They may lose access to education, employment, and mental well-being. This is far from the reformative goal that criminal law is supposed to serve. Instead of treating young lovers as criminals, the legal system should act as a guide, a teacher, and a protector.
JJ Act and Reformative Lens
The Juvenile Justice (Care and Protection of Children) Act, 2015, gives special protection to offenders under 18. However, in cases under POCSO, juveniles (especially boys) are frequently tried under adult provisions if the crime is termed “heinous.”
This seems paradoxical. If the law assumes teenagers are immature and hence their consent is invalid, how can it then assume they are mature enough to be punished like adults?
The Juvenile Justice system was designed with the belief that children can reform. But this philosophy is contradicted when the same system chooses to try adolescents as adults in cases involving consensual relationships. The result is a loss of faith in both justice and compassion.
Counselling, sex education, community service, and parental involvement could be far more effective tools in addressing teenage relationships than prison bars and courtrooms. The legal system should focus on rehabilitation, not punishment, especially when no one has been harmed, and the act was borne out of mutual trust and affection.
Recent Amendments and Social Reality
With the introduction of the new criminal laws—namely the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita (BNS), Bharatiya Nagarik Suraksha Sanhita (BNSS), and Bharatiya Sakshya Adhiniyam (BSA)—replacing the Indian Penal Code, Code of Criminal Procedure, and Indian Evidence Act, India’s criminal justice framework has undergone a structural overhaul. However, despite these progressive-sounding reforms, the legal system remains silent on one of the most pressing issues affecting adolescents: consensual teenage relationships. The deep-rooted moral conservatism surrounding teenage sexuality has not been addressed, let alone challenged, by these legislative changes. There remains no serious public or parliamentary discourse on introducing a “close-in-age” exception or distinguishing consensual adolescent intimacy from exploitative acts.
This legislative rigidity results in devastating real-world consequences. Young boys, often from economically or socially marginalized communities, bear the brunt of this silence. Once accused under the POCSO Act, they are branded as sexual offenders, subjected to social stigma, and frequently forced to drop out of school. Some face prolonged detention or even imprisonment, disrupting their education and future prospects. Even in cases where they are ultimately acquitted, the social label of being a “rapist” is nearly impossible to shed. Their names become tarnished in their communities, and reintegration becomes a near-insurmountable challenge. On the other side, girls are often portrayed as lifelong victims, with their consent and agency erased from the narrative. In many cases, families misuse the law not as a protective mechanism but as a weapon—either to seek revenge, enforce caste or class boundaries, or reassert patriarchal control over a girl’s autonomy. Thus, instead of empowering and protecting teenagers, the law ends up criminalizing natural adolescent experiences and fueling cycles of trauma and ostracism. The gap between legal intention and social reality remains stark, calling for urgent reform that reflects contemporary understandings of teenage psychology, consent, and rights.
Conclusion
As a young law student, I believe that laws must protect the vulnerable, but not at the cost of criminalising natural human behaviour. The POCSO Act is essential to combat child sexual abuse, but its rigidity in handling teenage consensual relationships is problematic. By setting the age of consent at 18 and ignoring the nuances of adolescent love, the law creates unintended victims. It’s time to rethink the approach. A close-in-age exception or a judicial discretion clause can go a long way in separating real abuse from consensual affection. Teenage love, though immature, is not a crime. It is a stage of growth. Instead of courtroom trials, what teenagers need are conversations, sex education, parental understanding, and legal empathy.
In conclusion, the law must evolve with society. It must protect, not punish. It must understand, not moralize. And most importantly, it must recognize that in a just society, love—especially young love—should never be a criminal act. It should be guided, not penalized; nurtured, not punished. Let us not allow the law to become a tool that extinguishes the innocence it was designed to protect.
