When a homemaker and a lawyer went to the Bombay High Court this month, they were not asking for the right to marry; they were asking for the right not to be taxed for giving gifts to each other. In their petition, they argued that Section 56(2)(x) of the Income Tax Act exempts gifts between spouses from tax, but does not extend that exemption to same-sex couples since the law does not recognise them as spouses. In their case, the absence of marriage recognition meant the presence of a tax bill.
It is a reminder that even without entering the debate on marriage equality, the law is already punishing same–sex couples in small and large ways that are rarely discussed.
This tax case is not an isolated problem. It is one of the many points in a web of laws where the word ‘spouse’ decides who is entitled and who is excluded. Inheritance laws under the Hindu Succession Act, 1956 or the Indian Succession Act, 1925 give priority to a legally recognised spouse, leaving partners as legal strangers. Many states also offer concessional stamp duty for property transfers between spouses, but same-sex couples pay the higher rate because they cannot produce a marriage certificate. In practice, it can mean paying significantly more for the same transaction.
Invisible forms of insecurity
These gaps are not just about money; they appear in moments of crisis. Research on discrimination in Indian hospitals has shown that queer people are often denied recognition of their chosen partners as next of kin. In emergencies, this can mean being refused entry to an intensive care unit (ICU) or being blocked from giving consent for urgent treatment.
The Surrogacy (Regulation) Act of 2021 and the Assisted Reproductive Technology (Regulation) Act, 2021 go further, excluding same-sex couples from surrogacy and restricting adoption to single individuals or married heterosexual couples. In effect, the laws treat them as incapable of raising a child together, no matter their stability or commitment.
Employment rules reinforce the same pattern. In government service, Leave Travel Concession (LTC), medical reimbursement, and family pension benefits are tied to a recognised spouse. Private companies may choose to extend coverage, but the default language in most HR manuals mirrors the government’s. Studies of India’s insurance sector show that traditional group health insurance schemes frequently exclude same-sex partners, and even where some progressive companies extend coverage, it is not guaranteed by law. The Employees’ Provident Fund allows broader nominations, but pension rules under the Employees’ Pension Scheme, 1995 limit eligibility to spouses or children. Even when a company accepts a same-sex partner as a nominee, it is a discretionary gesture, not a right protected by law.
Immigration policy adds another layer of instability. A foreign national married to an Indian citizen can apply for a dependent visa or be registered as an Overseas Citizen of India, but same-sex partners cannot. They rely on tourist or business visas that require regular renewals, creating a constant risk of separation if paperwork lapses or rules change. These are invisible forms of insecurity that heterosexual couples rarely have to confront.
The lack of recognition also weakens legal protections when relationships end. The Protection of Women from Domestic Violence Act, 2005, while covering women in domestic relationships, leaves uncertainty about its application to same–sex couples. Maintenance and alimony provisions in personal laws and the Criminal Procedure Code apply to spouses, shutting out partners who may have been financially dependent for years. Without these remedies, breakups can mean abrupt eviction, loss of shared assets, and no legal recourse.
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Reducing the harm
India’s own courts have already recognised that families do not fit a single template. In 2022, the Supreme Court said that atypical families are equally deserving of protection and social welfare benefits. In the Deepika Singh v. Central Administrative Tribunal judgment, the court observed that such atypical manifestations of the family unit are equally deserving not only of protection under law but also of the benefits available under social welfare legislation.
Legal scholars have warned that ignoring these exclusions perpetuates a silent inequality. As Gautam Bhan and Arvind Narrain argue in Because I Have a Voice: Queer Politics in India, queer lives in India are erased not only through criminal laws, but also through the civil law regime that denies them the right to marry, nominate a partner, and other benefits that heterosexuals are entitled to. These quiet denials accumulate into a systemic injustice.
All of these examples show that the absence of marriage recognition is not neutral. It actively produces disadvantages across tax policy, property rights, healthcare access, child-rearing, employment benefits, immigration, and personal security. It creates a quiet hierarchy where only one kind of couple is rewarded by the law, while others must navigate life as if the state refuses to admit they exist.
There is a way to reduce this harm without waiting for the larger question of marriage equality to be resolved. Legislatures and ministries can amend definitions in existing laws, replacing the word ‘spouse’ with gender neutral terms like ‘partner’ or ‘cohabiting partner’, defined by evidence of shared life rather than marital status. State stamp duty concessions could extend to all co-owners of property who meet this definition. Hospital rules could allow patients to name their own consent-giver. Pension and insurance schemes could accept declared partners without requiring proof of marriage.
These are not radical changes. Other countries have adopted them as interim steps before marriage equality, and in some cases, these measures created the social familiarity that made the final step easier.
The recognition of same-sex marriage in India is not certain in timing, and it may be years before it happens. But the law is not a frozen monument; it is a set of rules that can be adjusted to meet the realities of the people it governs. Small changes in tax law, property law, healthcare rules, immigration policies, and welfare schemes could be a beginning toward normalising something that should already be normal. They would tell same-sex couples that the state acknowledges their lives and their commitments. They would tell society that equality is not an abstract principle but a practice woven into everyday systems. The debate on marriage will continue, but in the meantime, the state cannot pretend that queer couples live outside its reach. They are already paying taxes, buying homes, raising children, and caring for each other. To deny them recognition in these daily acts is to deny their dignity in life itself.
Everyday rights may not carry the drama of a courtroom verdict, but they carry the quiet weight of fairness. By securing them, India can show that equality is not just about milestones, but also about the ordinary days in between.
Disha is a PhD Scholar and Senior Research Fellow at Dr. K.R. Narayanan Centre For Dalit And Minorities Studies, Jamia Millia Islamia, New Delhi. Views are personal.
(Edited by Aamaan Alam Khan)