In the landscape of South Asian culture, where wedding is often the grand finale to any love story and parental blessings are just as important as mutual respect, the decision to live together before marriage is still cloaked in social hesitation. While the world has begun to move toward a more flexible understanding of love and commitment, in South Asia, this progression is slower, quieter, and frequently burdened by stigma. And yet, across urban centres and diasporic communities, more couples are cohabiting before marriage, not as an act of rebellion, but as a conscious, deeply thought-out decision.
It’s no longer simply about romance. For today’s generation of South Asians, cohabitation is about compatibility, logistics, financial planning, and, most importantly, emotional clarity. It’s about asking yourself, can I build a life with this person, one that includes messy laundry days, split bills, burnt dinners, and the comfort of silence? As Shivani Pau, influencer and podcast host, shares, “Living with a partner allows you to truly understand how someone communicates, handles stress, shares space, and navigates everyday life. These are things you can’t always grasp from date nights or weekend visits.” In her words, living together isn’t about avoiding commitment; it’s about being conscious of who and what you commit to.
Still, in the South Asian community, live-in relationships continue to draw judgment. At family gatherings and neighbourhood gossip circles, questions arise not just about the nature of the relationship but also about its morality. The idea of cohabitation, often mistakenly equated with irresponsibility or rebellion, clashes with the reverence given to marriage and tradition. Shivani explains, “There’s still stigma, particularly in South Asian communities. A lot of it stems from the idea that living together before marriage is disrespectful or devalues tradition.” It’s not uncommon to hear concerns like, “What if it doesn’t work out?” But, as she rightly points out, that’s precisely the point. It’s better to find out before making a lifelong promise.
Celebrities, with their vast reach and influence, are helping soften this conversation. Actor Diana Penty, known for fiercely guarding her private life, recently spoke about her 12-year-long relationship with partner Harsh Sagar. The two live together and share a dog, yet have no immediate plans to marry. “Even though I am not married, in my head I am,” she shared in a rare interview. “Both our families are very chill, and they respect what we have… It’s pretty much like being married, just that it’s not on paper.” Her words are powerful because they affirm the emotional reality of a relationship, even in the absence of ceremonial rituals. Love and commitment, she suggests, aren’t necessarily validated by a certificate; they’re proven in daily life, mutual respect, and quiet solidarity.
It’s a sentiment echoed by Tanvi Shah, lifestyle and business creator and founder of South Asian Social, who cohabited with her partner not for thrills, but for functionality. “For us, living together wasn’t about rushing into anything; it was a practical, well-considered decision. As a middle-distance couple, moving in allowed us to spend less time commuting and more time building both our relationship and our careers.” Shah highlights another truth that’s gaining resonance: living together can be emotionally, logistically, and even financially smart. “Whether you buy or rent,” she continues, “I think it’s really important to understand what coexisting actually looks like before making significant commitments.”
This practicality isn’t limited to ordinary citizens. Bollywood’s royal siblings, Saif Ali Khan and Soha Ali Khan, both famously lived with their respective partners, Kareena Kapoor and Kunal Kemmu, before tying the knot. While these choices didn’t cause seismic social shifts, they quietly set a precedent: that even in traditionally conservative spaces, love can be explored and nurtured in non-traditional ways. These examples don’t dismiss marriage but rather show that love doesn’t need to follow a rigid timeline to be real or respectable.
Still, despite this emerging openness, acceptance of live-in relationships in South Asian families often comes with caveats. Shivani Pau points out that while there is more awareness and tolerance in urban, younger families, “a lot of ‘acceptance’ is still quiet, conditional, or hidden behind closed doors.” Many couples find themselves performing a delicate balancing act, living authentically, while shielding their decisions from extended relatives or community opinion. In other words, society might allow you to live together as long as you don’t talk about it too loudly. And yet, this quiet revolution continues to grow, driven by lived experiences and candid conversations. Shivani shares how her own perspective shifted: “I personally was nervous and unsure at the beginning… I wanted to live together after marriage, but I’m so glad we didn’t let other people’s opinions change the trajectory of our lives.” These stories reflect a generation that is more self-aware and emotionally mature, one that wants to enter marriage, if and when it happens, as a fully informed choice rather than a cultural obligation.
The notion that living together weakens the meaning of commitment is also being challenged. In fact, many couples find that it strengthens it. “You get to experience your partner beyond the highlight reel,” Shivani says. “For me, living together has brought more clarity and depth to our relationship. It’s not a lack of commitment; it’s a decision to build it consciously.” Shared bills, mismatched schedules, mundane routines, and weekend laundry loads can all become the building blocks of something real, something that wedding vows later echo rather than create.
Tanvi also touches on the growing visibility of such relationships and the need to normalise them. “We’re lucky to have supportive, forward-thinking families, but I recognise that’s not the case for everyone. The more we speak openly about it, the more we can normalise live-in relationships as a thoughtful and valid choice, which is just a reflection of changing values.” Her words strike at the heart of the matter: the more these relationships are kept in the shadows, the more society will cling to its outdated anxieties.
It’s clear that cohabitation isn’t a trend; it’s a transition. A transition from love built on ritual to love built on shared reality. From wedding planning to life planning. From seeking social approval to building something that feels emotionally aligned. It doesn’t mean the end of marriage; it just means that for many, marriage might come later, or not at all, and that’s perfectly okay.
As South Asians, we’ve long celebrated love in its most dramatic forms: the sweeping gestures, the extravagant sangeets, and the grand declarations. Maybe it’s time we also start celebrating the quieter versions: love that shows up on a Monday morning with chai, love that respects your need for space, love that’s still there when life gets messy. And perhaps, one day soon, living together before marriage in South Asia will no longer be seen as something brave or rebellious; it will just be seen as what it is: another valid, valuable way to build a life with someone you love.
