India is a nation that prides itself on being young – 65% of our people are under 35. But youth alone does not make us wise. And sometimes, in our rush to appear modern, we forget the simple difference between progress and peril.
Senior advocate and amicus curiae Indira Jaising has urged the Supreme Court of India to reconsider and read down the statutory age of consent from 18 to 16 years, arguing that the current law under the Protection of Children from Sexual Offences (POCSO) Act fails to reflect the social realities of adolescent relationships. Jaising contends that criminalising consensual relationships among teenagers unfairly punishes natural expressions of young love and maturity. However, the plea raises a deeper societal question — whether India, with its limited sex education, strong cultural taboos, and vulnerability of minors to manipulation, is truly ready to equate 16 with the emotional and psychological maturity that genuine consent demands.
So let me say this clearly – I do not consent to lowering the age of sexual consent from 18 to 16 in India.
This is not about morality. It’s about maturity. It’s about protection. And it’s about whether we as a nation truly understand what it means to safeguard our children.
Consent is not a word. It’s an understanding.
It’s the ability to know what “yes” truly means, and to carry the consequences of that “yes.”
Now, tell me honestly – how many 16-year-olds today, raised in the chaos of social media, peer pressure, and hyper-sexualised entertainment, truly understand the depth of that word?
At 16, the mind is still learning emotional grammar. Teenagers are searching for identity, validation, and belonging. They are vulnerable, easily influenced, and often manipulated – not because they are weak, but because they are still becoming.
The law is meant to protect that becoming – not expose it to exploitation.
Supporters of this idea often wrap it in the golden foil of “progressiveness.”
They argue: “Teens are already sexually active. The law must reflect reality.”
But laws are not meant to mirror every social trend. They are meant to moderate society, not mimic its mistakes.
By that logic, since many teenagers drink or smoke, should we lower the legal drinking or tobacco age too? Should we legalise every common behaviour just because it happens?
Progress is not about accepting everything that exists – it’s about deciding what should.
Let’s get one thing straight: this is not about moral policing. It’s about emotional protection.
We live in a country where girls are still pressured, guilt-tripped, or emotionally manipulated into relationships. Where a teenage boy’s idea of love is shaped more by online fantasy than by real understanding.
Lowering the age of consent to 16 will not empower teenagers – it will empower predators.
It will arm exploiters with a legal excuse. A 25-year-old could claim, “She consented,” and the law would protect him, not her.
Is that the India we want to build?
Many point to Western countries – “They have 16 as the age of consent.”
Yes, they do. But they also have systems we lack – effective sex education, open family dialogue, social services, and a culture that distinguishes sex from exploitation.
In India, we still whisper the word “sex.” We still treat menstruation like a secret. We still think silence equals safety.
We are not ready for this kind of legal liberalisation – not because our youth are incapable, but because our society is unprepared.
A 16-year-old may say “yes” – but when the relationship ends, when heartbreak sets in, or when they realise they were used – that “yes” turns into silent trauma.
Legal permission doesn’t protect from emotional damage. It just legitimises it.
We forget that sexuality is not just physical. It’s deeply emotional. And teenagers, even when they act tough, are fragile inside.
You can’t legislate emotional maturity. You can only nurture it.
Let’s look at the hypocrisy here.
At 16, a person in India cannot vote, cannot drive, cannot sign a legal contract. The law believes they are too immature for these responsibilities.
But somehow, the same law should believe they are ready to give sexual consent?
That’s not logic. That’s lunacy.
A law must protect potential, not impulsiveness. It must reflect reason, not recklessness.
Instead of lowering the age, we should be raising awareness.
Introduce mandatory sex education that teaches respect, boundaries, and consent. Encourage open conversations between parents and children. Equip schools with counsellors who understand teenage vulnerabilities.
Because education empowers – permission endangers.
Let’s not confuse one for the other.
There’s a sacredness to youth – that small window where innocence coexists with curiosity.
When we tell a 16-year-old, “You’re old enough to consent,” we’re pushing them into adulthood before they’ve finished being young.
We’re taking away their right to grow without guilt.
We’re saying, “It’s okay to be older before your time.”
That’s not empowerment. That’s abandonment.
India doesn’t need a law that lowers protection. We need a law that strengthens it.
Lowering the age of consent to 16 doesn’t make our teenagers freer – it makes them more vulnerable.
It blurs the line between consent and coercion, between choice and confusion.
I do not consent to a system that normalise exploitation in the name of progress.
I do not consent to a culture that mistakes permissiveness for empowerment.
And I do not consent to an India that fails to protect its children because it wants to look “modern.”
True progress is not measured by how early we allow freedom – but by how responsibly we guide it.
Because when we stop protecting our children in the name of progress, we stop being a society that deserves to lead the future.
And I, for one, do not consent to that.
