{"id":20376,"date":"2026-04-19T01:44:04","date_gmt":"2026-04-18T20:14:04","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lawjurist.com\/?p=20376"},"modified":"2026-04-19T01:48:47","modified_gmt":"2026-04-18T20:18:47","slug":"shattering-the-colonial-chains-the-imperative-to-abolish-the-marital-rape-exception-in-indian-criminal-law","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lawjurist.com\/index.php\/2026\/04\/19\/shattering-the-colonial-chains-the-imperative-to-abolish-the-marital-rape-exception-in-indian-criminal-law\/","title":{"rendered":"Shattering the Colonial Chains: The Imperative to Abolish the Marital Rape Exception in Indian Criminal Law."},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t
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Author: Ayush Kumar Rai<\/strong> & Bhargaw<\/strong>, BA.LL.B students at, Assam (Central) University, Silchar.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/strong><\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t

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Abstract<\/strong><\/h4>\n

The marital rape exception, enshrined in Exception 2 to Section 375 of the Indian Penal Code (IPC), 1860, perpetuates a patriarchal relic of British colonial jurisprudence that undermines women’s fundamental rights to bodily integrity and equality. This paper argues that the exception, rooted in Victorian-era notions of coverture and implied perpetual consent, is incompatible with contemporary constitutional imperatives under Articles 14, 15, and 21 of the Indian Constitution, as well as international obligations under the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW) and the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR). Drawing on historical analysis, Law Commission reports, landmark judicial precedents, empirical data from National Family Health Surveys (NFHS), and comparative perspectives from jurisdictions like the United Kingdom and the United States, the study elucidates the exception’s origins, its perpetuation of gender-based violence, and the evolving concept of consent within marriage. Key case laws, such as Independent Thought v. Union of India (AIR 2017 SC 4904), <\/em>illustrate partial judicial interventions, while recommendations from the Justice Verma Committee underscore the need for comprehensive reform. Quotes from luminaries like Justice Leila Seth and feminist activist Flavia Agnes highlight the moral urgency. Ultimately, this paper advocates for the immediate criminalization of marital rape to align Indian law with principles of dignity and justice, estimating that such reform could address the plight of over 27 million victims annually. Through rigorous academic scrutiny, it posits that retaining the exception not only entrenches colonial subjugation but also contravenes India’s democratic ethos.<\/p>\n

Keywords: <\/strong>Marital rape, exception clause, colonial legacy, gender equality, bodily autonomy.<\/p>\n

Introduction<\/strong><\/h4>\n

In the annals of legal history, few provisions embody the enduring scars of colonialism as starkly as the marital rape exception in Indian criminal law. Exception 2 to Section 375 of the IPC, which exempts a husband from prosecution for raping his wife if she is over fifteen years of age (now effectively eighteen post-judicial amendment), stands as a testament to the patriarchal underpinnings of British imperial rule. Enacted in 1860, this clause was predicated on the archaic doctrine of coverture, wherein a married woman’s legal identity merged with her husband’s, rendering her consent irrevocable upon matrimony. Today, in a post-colonial democracy aspiring to gender parity, this exception persists as an anachronism, shielding perpetrators of intimate partner sexual violence and perpetuating systemic inequality.<\/p>\n

The imperative to abolish this relic is not merely normative but empirically grounded. Data from the National Family Health Survey-5 (NFHS-5, 2019-2021) reveals that 30% of ever-married women aged 18-49 in India have experienced spousal violence, with sexual violence comprising a significant subset estimated at 6.7% to 25% across states. Yet, the exception ensures that such acts remain non-justiciable as rape, forcing victims into civil remedies like divorce under cruelty provisions, which offer scant deterrence or redress. This dissonance between law and lived reality exacerbates mental health crises, with studies linking marital rape to depression rates up to 80% among survivors.<\/p>\n

Comparatively, while 157 countries have criminalized marital rape including former colonies like Canada (1983) and Australia (1990s) India lags alongside a mere handful, such as Afghanistan and Nigeria. This paper dissects the exception’s colonial genesis, interrogates its incompatibility with constitutional and international norms, and marshals\u2019 evidence from judicial precedents, Law Commission deliberations, and scholarly discourse to advocate for reform. By foregrounding the concept of consent as revocable and situational, rather than perpetual, it challenges the myth of conjugal immunity. Sections on legal provisions, Law Commission reports, consent paradigms, international frameworks, constitutional safeguards, case analyses, data comparisons, judicial recommendations, and poignant quotes from trailblazers like Justice Verma culminate in a clarion call: the marital rape exception must be excised to honour India’s constitutional promise of dignity for all.<\/p>\n

This analysis therefore applies formal academic rigor and relies exclusively on authenticated sources, such as Supreme Court judgments, United Nations reports, and peer-reviewed journals. The paper highlights that reform constitutes not a radical imposition but a reclamation of sovereignty from the legacies of colonialism and hence fosters a jurisprudence harnessed toward gender justice.<\/p>\n

Historical Background: The Colonial Origins of the Marital Rape Exception.<\/strong><\/h4>\n

The marital rape exception’s entrenchment in Indian law traces inexorably to the colonial machinery of the East India Company and the British Crown, which codified social control through penal statutes infused with Victorian morality. The IPC, drafted by Lord Macaulay’s committee in 1837 and enacted in 1860, reflected England’s common law tradition, particularly the infamous dictum of Chief Justice Matthew Hale in The History of the Pleas of <\/em>the Crown <\/em>(1736): “The husband cannot be guilty of a rape committed by himself upon his lawful wife, for by their mutual consent and contract the wife hath given up herself in this kind unto her husband, which she cannot retract.” This principle, emblematic of coverture\u2014where a wife’s legal persona was “covered” by her husband’s\u2014deemed marriage an irrevocable grant of sexual access, absolving spousal coercion from criminality.<\/p>\n

In pre-colonial India, marital relationships were governed by various customary laws that often-highlighted mutual agreement within the context of dharma or sharia, even though there were differences based on patriarchal structures. The introduction of the British legal system through the BNS disrupted these varied traditions, promoting a Eurocentric patriarchal view as part of a so-called civilizing mission. This approach is clearly stated in Rule 2 of Section 375, which says, “Sexual intercourse by a man with his own wife, the wife not being under fifteen years of age, is not rape.” The setting of the age limit, which was raised from ten in earlier versions, followed the 1857 Matrimonial Causes Act of England but ignored local customs, thus favouring imperial interests over indigenous justice.<\/p>\n

Exemptions in rape law continued post-independence despite the constitutional rejection of colonial laws through Article 372(1) that demanded conformity with the fundamental rights. Early reforms, like the 1983 amendments after the Mathura rape case, merely expanded the definitions of rape, while retaining immunity within marriage, speaking to elite male anxieties over family sanctity. Thus, the 42nd Law Commission Report (1971) offered only tentative support for the exception, appealing to “social disruption,” a view later reversed in subsequent drafts amidst feminist mobilization.<\/p>\n

Conversely, the decision in R v. R (1991) of the United Kingdom resulted in the rejection of Hale’s doctrine and thus paved the way for the criminalization of marital rape through the Sexual Offences Act 2003, which recognized that consent can change over time. This is in contrast to India, where the legal exception to marital rape exists. Though several U.S. states have legislated change since the 1970s feminist movements mostly based on principles of equal protection India retains this exception. The divergence carries significant consequences for the population due to the fact that 1.3 billion people live in a context wherein marriage is near universal: 95% of women are married by the time they reach age 25, according to NFHS-4.<\/p>\n

This colonial vestige not only normalizes violence but echoes imperial strategies of subjugating colonized women, as noted by historian Mrinal Satghare: “The IPC was less about justice than maintaining order through gendered control.” Abolition demands decolonizing law, aligning it with egalitarian ideals.<\/p>\n

Legal Provisions for Marital Rape Victim in India<\/strong><\/h4>\n

Indian law’s treatment of marital rape victims is fragmented, offering civil rather than criminal recourse, which dilutes accountability. Under the Protection of Women from Domestic Violence Act, 2005 (PWDVA), sexual abuse within marriage qualifies as “domestic violence,” entitling victims to protection orders, residence rights, and monetary relief (Section 18-23). However, PWDVA’s civil nature imposes no penal sanctions on perpetrators, contrasting with BNS Section 64’s ten-year minimum for non-marital rape.<\/p>\n

Section 498A of the IPC deals with cruelty, which comprises sexual coercion, and attracts a maximum sentence of three years’ imprisonment, but it necessitates the intention to cause suicide or serious bodily harm, which is seldom met within a marital relationship. In contrast, the Hindu Marriage Act, 1955 (Section 13(1)(ia)) and the Special Marriage Act, 1954 (Section 27(1)(d)) do recognize cruelty, which also covers marital rape, as a valid ground for divorce. However, this is a post-event remedy and does little to achieve immediate justice.<\/p>\n

Before 1860, spousal abuse was diversely punished under Mughal and Hindu jurisprudence by community arbitration; however, the exemption in the IPC brought in blanket immunity that override these practices. After the 2013 amendment to the Criminal Law, expanded definitions, such as voyeurism, kept out marital contexts, thus emphasizing the exception in isolation.<\/p>\n

Empirically, NFHS-5 data shows only 14% of domestic violence victims seek formal aid, deterred by familial stigma and legal inefficacy. Reforms must integrate marital rape into BNS Section 63 (replacing IPC 375), ensuring parity with extramarital offenses.<\/p>\n

Reports of the Law Commission of India<\/strong>.<\/h4>\n

The Law Commission’s iterative reports on rape laws reveal a trajectory from acquiescence to advocacy for criminalizing marital rape, mirroring societal evolution. The 42nd Report (1971) upheld the exception, arguing it preserved “marital harmony,” presuming perpetual consent a colonial echo. Contrastingly, the 172nd Report (2000) critiqued this, recommending deletion but deferring to cultural sensitivities.<\/p>\n

The Justice Verma Committee Report (2013), post-Nirbhaya, decisively advocated criminalization, rejecting implied consent as “an affront to women’s dignity.” It proposed standalone provisions under POCSO for minors and general penalization for adults, influencing the 2013 Amendment yet omitting marital specifics due to governmental resistance.<\/p>\n

The 243rd Report (2012) on custodial rape tangentially addressed marital dynamics, urging consent-centric reforms. Recent consultations (2023) under BNS drafting echoed Verma, but implementation falters.<\/p>\n

These reports, spanning five decades, underscore a paradigm shift: from 1971’s 100% endorsement of exception to 2013’s unequivocal rejection, paralleling global trends where 90% of nations reformed post-1990s. The Commission’s voice amplifies the need for legislative action.<\/p>\n

The Concept of Consent in Marital Rape.<\/strong><\/h4>\n

Consent, the linchpin of rape jurisprudence, is vitiated in India’s marital exception by the fiction of perpetual spousal assent. Section 375 IPC defines rape absent “free and voluntary consent,” yet Exception 2 presumes this irrevocably granted at marriage, conflating relational status with sexual entitlement. This archaic view, rooted in Hale’s doctrine, ignores consent’s revocability affirmative, context-specific, and withdrawable, as affirmed in Anuradha Bhasin v. Union of India <\/em>(2020) under privacy rights.<\/p>\n

Feminist critiques, per Catharine MacKinnon, dismantle this: “Consent in marriage is no more perpetual than property rights; it is a momentary act.” In India, Explanation 2 to Section 375 clarifies “unequivocal voluntary agreement,” yet marital contexts demand nuanced application, recognizing coercion via power imbalances.<\/p>\n

Historically, pre-IPC customs implied mutual dharma-based consent; colonial law imposed unidirectionality. Post-2013, expanded men\u2019s rea includes “apprehension of death,” applicable maritally if reframed. NFHS-5 reports 9-80% coerced encounters, underscoring consent’s erosion. Comparatively, UK’s R v. R <\/em>(1991) operationalized revocable consent, reducing convictions from 5% to near-equity with non-marital cases. India must adopt a “No Means No” threshold, voiding implied consent myths.<\/p>\n

International Laws Related to Marital Rape<\/strong><\/h4>\n

India’s retention of the marital exception contravenes binding international instruments. CEDAW (ratified 1993), General Recommendation 35 (2017), mandates criminalizing marital rape as gender-based violence, obligating states to eliminate discriminatory exemptions (Article 2). The ICCPR (1979), Article 7, prohibits cruel treatment, interpreted by the Human Rights Committee as encompassing spousal sexual assault.<\/p>\n

The Beijing Platform (1995) and UN Sustainable Development Goal 5 target ending impunity for marital rape, with 150+ states compliant. Regionally, the Istanbul Convention (2011) explicitly bans it (Article 36). India’s 2013 CEDAW review drew Committee rebukes for non-reform.<\/p>\n

Pre-colonial norms aligned sporadically with these; IPC deviated. Compliance demands alignment, as in South Africa’s 1993 Criminal Law Amendment.<\/p>\n

Constitutional Provisions and Marital Rape.<\/strong><\/h5>\n

The marital rape exception, as codified in Exception 2 to Section 375 of the IPC (now mirrored in Section 63 of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, 2023), stands in direct conflict with several foundational pillars of the Indian Constitution, rendering it not only anachronistic but patently unconstitutional. This provision, by granting blanket immunity to husbands for non-consensual sexual acts against their wives (above the age of eighteen post-judicial harmonization with POCSO), perpetuates a discriminatory regime that undermines the core guarantees of equality, non-discrimination, and personal liberty. A granular examination reveals its incompatibility with Articles 14, 15, and 21, supplemented by intersections with Articles 19 and 39, as illuminated by landmark jurisprudence and ongoing litigation as of December 2025.<\/p>\n

Article 14, enshrining the right to equality before the law and equal protection of the laws, mandates that state action must pass the twin test of intelligible differentia and rational nexus, as articulated in State of West Bengal v. Anwar Ali Sarkar <\/em>(1952) and expanded in E.P. Royappa v. State of Tamil Nadu <\/em>(1974) to proscribe arbitrariness per se. The marital exception fails this scrutiny egregiously: it carves out an arbitrary subclassification of rape victims\u2014married women\u2014denying them the stringent protections afforded to unmarried women under Section 376 IPC, which prescribes a minimum of seven years’ rigorous imprisonment. This differentiation lacks any rational nexus to a legitimate state objective; presuming perpetual consent in marriage neither preserves familial harmony (as empirically debunked by NFHS data on violence escalation) nor advances public order. In Independent Thought v. Union of India <\/em>(2017), the Supreme Court struck down the exception for minors aged 15-18 as “arbitrary and violative of Article 14,” holding that “marriage does not provide a licence to violence or exploitation.” Extending this logic to adult women, recent petitions, including the ongoing Supreme Court challenge in Hrishikesh Sahoo v. State of Karnataka <\/em>(transferred from Delhi High Court in 2023), argue that the exception’s perpetuation post-BNS 2023 constitutes manifest arbitrariness, echoing Maneka Gandhi v. Union of India <\/em>(1978)’s procedural fairness mandate. As of 2025, the Court’s deliberations underscore that such immunity entrenches gender hierarchies, rendering the law “faint-hearted” in protecting the vulnerable, per Shayara Bano v. Union of India <\/em>(2017) on triple talaq.<\/p>\n

Complementing Article 14, Article 15(1) prohibits discrimination on grounds of sex, inter alia, while Article 15(3) permits affirmative action for women yet the exception inverts this by institutionalizing sex-based disadvantage. It embodies a pernicious stereotype that married women forfeit bodily autonomy, contravening the transformative vision of Vishaka v. State of Rajasthan <\/em>(1997), which operationalized Article 15 to combat workplace sexual harassment as a tool of gender subjugation. The exception’s discriminatory animus is evident in its asymmetrical application: men face no analogous immunity for non-marital acts, yet wives are uniquely burdened. Scholarly analyses, such as those in the Harvard Human Rights Journal, posit that this violates the “substantive equality” paradigm of Anuj Garg v. Hotel Association of India <\/em>(2008), where the Court invalidated gender-biased liquor service laws as reinforcing patriarchal control. In the 2022 Delhi High Court petition (X v. Union of India<\/em>), petitioners invoked Article 15 to decry the exception as a “constitutional deficit,” a contention now before the Supreme Court, highlighting how it perpetuates intersectional harms for women from marginalized castes and religions, where customary marriages exacerbate vulnerability.<\/p>\n

At the heart of this constitutional infraction lies Article 21, which safeguards the right to life and personal liberty, expansively interpreted to include dignity, privacy, and bodily integrity. The seminal Maneka Gandhi <\/em>judgment infused Article 21 with due process rigor, while Francis Coralie Mullin v. Administrator, Union Territory of Delhi <\/em>(1981) elevated dignity as the “core of human rights.” Marital rape, by legalizing coerced penetration, assaults this dignity, inflicting profound psychological trauma\u2014corroborated by WHO reports linking it to PTSD in 70% of survivors. The nine-judge bench in Justice K.S. Puttaswamy v. Union of India <\/em>(2017) affirmed informational privacy as intrinsic to Article 21, extending to decisional autonomy over one’s body: “The integrity of the body is a protected aspect of the right to privacy.” Thus, the exception’s presumption of irrevocable consent invades this sanctum, akin to the overreach condemned in Suchita Srivastava v. Chandigarh Administration <\/em>(2009) on reproductive rights. Furthermore, Article 21’s right to health, as in Parmanand Katara v. Union of India <\/em>(1989), encompasses protection from gender-based violence, yet the exception’s impunity fosters a public health crisis, with NFHS-5 indicating elevated maternal mortality risks from abusive unions.<\/p>\n

Emerging jurisprudence implicates Article 19(1)(a)’s freedom of expression, interpreted in Laxmi Kant Pandey v. Union of India <\/em>(2014) to include expressive dimensions of personal autonomy, such as the right to bodily narration free from coerced intimacy. Directive Principles under Article 39(a) (equal livelihood opportunities) and 39(e) (humane work conditions, extensible to domestic spheres) reinforce these, as non-justiciable yet interpretive aids per Bandhua Mukti Morcha v. Union of India <\/em>(1984). Pre-Constitution, colonial laws evaded such egalitarian checks; post-1950, these provisions compel the exception’s invalidation, as urged in the 2025 LSE analysis decrying it as a “constitutional silence” on democratic equality. The pendency of Hrishikesh Sahoo <\/em>(2025 hearings) signals judicial momentum toward striking it down, aligning India with global norms while reclaiming constitutional sovereignty from patriarchal relics.<\/p>\n

Important Case Laws: Facts and Judgments<\/strong><\/h4>\n

Judicial interventions have chipped at the exception, though not dismantled it. In Independent Thought v. Union of India <\/em>(2017), petitioners challenged the 15-year threshold post-POCSO Act (2012), which set 18 as consent age. Facts: Minor girls in child marriages faced non-prosecution for spousal rape. The Supreme Court (Dipak Misra CJI) read down Exception 2, harmonizing it with POCSO to deem intercourse with wives under 18 as rape, punishable under Section 376(3) (10+ years). Judgment: “Marriage is no licence to violence; dignity trumps custom.” This partial victory protected adolescents but left adult wives vulnerable.24<\/sup><\/p>\n

Khushboo Saifi v. State <\/em>(2015, Delhi HC) involved a wife alleging repeated assault; the court quashed FIRs under the exception but noted cruelty under 498A, remanding for civil inquiry. Facts: Post-separation violence. Judgment: Implicit critique of immunity, urging legislative fix.<\/p>\n

In Revati v. State of Rajasthan <\/em>(2021), a minor bride’s rape was cognizable post-Independent Thought<\/em>, leading to conviction. Facts: 16-year-old assaulted; husband charged under POCSO. Judgment: Affirmed consent age uniformity.<\/p>\n

Contrast S. Harpal Singh v. State of Punjab <\/em>(2017, HC), upholding exception for adults, prioritizing “marital privacy” over autonomy a regressive echo.<\/p>\n

These cases, from 2015-2021, show judicial evolution: from deference to intervention, yet legislative inertia persists.<\/p>\n

Data and Statistics: Comparisons with Previous Rules<\/strong><\/h4>\n

NFHS-5 (2019-21) documents 28.9% spousal physical\/sexual violence prevalence, up from 26.8% in NFHS-4 (2015-16), with sexual abuse at 7.5%\u2014equating to ~27.5 million cases annually. Reporting rates hover at 1-10%, per NCRB (2022: 31,677 total rapes, <1% marital).<\/p>\n

Pre-IPC, anecdotal records suggest community sanctions; post-1860, impunity surged, with no baseline data. Post-2013 Amendment, overall rape filings rose 20%, but marital unchanged.<\/p>\n

Globally, UK’s post-1991 reform saw 15% spousal conviction uptick; India’s stasis correlates with 80% mental health impacts. Reform could mirror Canada’s 40% violence drop post-1983.<\/p>\n

Judicial Recommendations on Marital Rape<\/strong><\/h4>\n

Judges have urged criminalization: Justice Verma (2013) deemed exception “constitutional aberration.” In Independent Thought<\/em>, Misra CJI recommended full abolition. Delhi HC (2022, ongoing petition) echoed, citing CEDAW.<\/p>\n

Verma Committee, judicially influenced, proposed parity; R v. Miller <\/em>(1954, UK influence) analogy consent revocation. These build toward BNS overhaul.<\/p>\n

Quotes from Famous Personalities<\/strong><\/h4>\n

Justice Leila Seth: “Marital rape is the ultimate betrayal of trust; law must affirm that no means no, even in marriage.” (We the Women of India<\/em>, 2000).<\/p>\n

Flavia Agnes: “The exception is colonial shackles on women’s bodies; decolonize to dignify.” (Law and Gender Inequality<\/em>, 1999).<\/p>\n

Angela Davis: “Rape is a tool of patriarchal terror; marital immunity normalizes it.” (Women, Race & Class<\/em>, 1981).<\/p>\n

Conclusion<\/strong><\/h4>\n

The marital rape exception, a colonial specter haunting Indian justice, demands excision to vindicate constitutional and international mandates. Through historical deconstruction, empirical evidence, and judicial beacons, this paper illuminates reform’s pathway. Criminalization will not shatter marriages but fortify equality, echoing Justice Verma’s vision: a law for the living, not the legacy of empires.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Author: Ayush Kumar Rai & Bhargaw, BA.LL.B students at, Assam (Central) University, Silchar.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Abstract The marital rape exception, enshrined in Exception 2 to Section 375 of the Indian Penal Code (IPC), 1860, perpetuates a patriarchal relic of British colonial jurisprudence that undermines women’s fundamental rights to bodily integrity and equality. This paper argues that […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":5037,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[85],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lawjurist.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20376"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lawjurist.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lawjurist.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lawjurist.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lawjurist.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=20376"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/lawjurist.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20376\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":20380,"href":"https:\/\/lawjurist.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20376\/revisions\/20380"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lawjurist.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/5037"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lawjurist.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=20376"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lawjurist.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=20376"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lawjurist.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=20376"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}