Dad's maintenance slashed from ₹20,000 to ₹7,500 — but the court gave no reason

A family court said a 6-year-old girl deserved ₹20,000 a month from her father. Then the High Court slashed it to ₹7,500 — with a single sentence.

Aditi lives with her mother. Her parents divorced in September 2022. Her father had filed for divorce in 2018. Somewhere in between, Aditi and her mother asked the Family Court for maintenance — money for the child's food, school fees, clothes, and medicines. The court gave Aditi ₹20,000 a month. It gave her mother nothing. The father wasn't happy. He went to the High Court. And the High Court cut the girl's monthly support by over 60% — to ₹7,500 — with an order so brief it didn't explain why.

The Supreme Court just called that order "cryptic" and sent it back. But the real story isn't just about one judge's one-line decision. It's about what happens when courts skip the hard work of reasoning — and what that means for a child who never asked to be in court in the first place.

When the Family Court said ₹20,000

Aditi's parents divorced in September 2022. The father had filed for divorce in 2018. Before the divorce was final, Aditi and her mother filed a maintenance application under Section 125 of the CrPC (a legal provision that allows wives, children, and elderly parents to claim monthly support from a spouse or parent who can afford it).

The Family Court at Guna heard the case. The judge sat behind a wooden desk stacked with case files. The mother's affidavit — a typed sheet of paper, creased at the edges, bearing the court's round seal — listed the child's expenses: school fees, uniforms, medicines, bus fare. The father's side presented its own papers. The court looked at the material on record — the father's income, the child's needs, the mother's financial position. It passed a reasoned order, pages long, with paragraphs explaining each conclusion. It awarded Aditi ₹20,000 per month in maintenance. The mother got nothing. The father was ordered to pay ₹20,000 every month for his daughter's upbringing.

That was May 1, 2018.

How one sentence cut a child's support by 62%

The father challenged the Family Court's order in the High Court of Madhya Pradesh at Gwalior. He filed a criminal revision (a legal challenge asking a higher court to review a lower court's decision).

The High Court passed its order on June 28, 2023. The entire reasoning for reducing maintenance from ₹20,000 to ₹7,500 was this: the father claimed he was in financial distress. That's it. No analysis of his actual income. No discussion of Aditi's needs. No comparison of what ₹7,500 could actually buy for a growing child in 2023. Just a brief order — a single paragraph on a single page — recording the father's claim and cutting the amount. The judge's signature sat at the bottom, black ink on white paper, with no explanation beneath it.

The High Court didn't explain why ₹7,500 was the right number instead of ₹5,000 or ₹10,000 or ₹15,000. It didn't explain why the Family Court's ₹20,000 was wrong. It just reduced it.

Why the Supreme Court stepped in

Aditi — through her mother — appealed to the Supreme Court. She filed a Special Leave Petition (a request for the Supreme Court's permission to hear an appeal against a High Court order) under Article 136 of the Constitution (the provision that gives the Supreme Court the power to hear appeals from any court or tribunal in India).

The father refused to accept notice of the petition. He did not appear before the Supreme Court. The bench — Justice Vikram Nath and Justice Rajesh Bindal — heard the case without him. The courtroom fell silent as the judges read the file. The only sound was the rustle of paper and the clerk's soft announcement of the case number.

The Supreme Court didn't mince words. It called the High Court's order "cryptic" — meaning it was mysterious, unclear, lacking in proper reasoning. The Court said the High Court had merely recorded the father's claim of financial distress without any proper analysis. It noted that the Family Court had passed a reasoned order after considering the material on record. The High Court had overturned that reasoned order with almost no explanation.

The Supreme Court set aside the High Court's order. It sent the matter back to the High Court for fresh consideration. It directed the High Court to issue notice to the father and hear the case properly.

The missing disclosure affidavits

But the Supreme Court didn't stop there. It noticed something else was wrong.

In 2021, the Supreme Court had decided a landmark case called Rajnesh v. Neha. In that judgment, the Court had laid down a mandatory framework for maintenance cases: both parties must file an Affidavit of Disclosure of Assets and Liabilities. This affidavit requires each side to disclose their income, property, bank accounts, investments, loans, and expenses. The idea is simple — you can't decide how much maintenance a child needs unless you know what both parents actually earn and own. The affidavit is a sworn document, signed before a notary, carrying legal consequences if false. It is meant to be the bedrock of every maintenance decision.

The Supreme Court had directed that this framework be followed in all maintenance cases, whether interim or final. But in Aditi's case, neither the Family Court nor the High Court had ensured compliance with this framework. The father's claim of financial distress was just a claim — there was no sworn affidavit backing it up. No bank statements. No salary slips. No tax returns. The court took his word, and the child lost ₹12,500 a month.

The Supreme Court directed that the Rajnesh v. Neha judgment be re-circulated to all judicial officers through the High Courts, and to the National Judicial Academy and State Judicial Academies. The message was clear: this framework is not optional. Every judge handling a maintenance case must now check — has the affidavit been filed? If not, no order can pass.

What the law actually says about maintenance for children

Section 125 of the CrPC is the primary provision for maintenance in India. It says that if a person has sufficient means but neglects or refuses to maintain their legitimate or illegitimate child (who is unable to maintain themselves), a magistrate can order that person to pay monthly maintenance.

The provision applies to minor children — and the child's inability to maintain themselves is presumed by law. A 6-year-old cannot work. A 6-year-old cannot earn. A 6-year-old's needs — food, shelter, education, healthcare — are the legal responsibility of both parents. The law does not ask a child to prove she is destitute. It assumes she is, because she is a child.

The Supreme Court has repeatedly held that the object of Section 125 is to prevent vagrancy and destitution. It is a social justice provision. It is meant to ensure that children don't go hungry because a parent refuses to pay. The provision sits alongside Section 24 of the Hindu Marriage Act (which allows for maintenance during ongoing divorce proceedings) and Article 142 of the Constitution (which gives the Supreme Court the power to pass any order necessary for complete justice). Together, these provisions form a legal safety net for children caught in broken marriages.

The High Court's one-line order undermined that object. By reducing maintenance without reasoning, it effectively said: we don't need to explain why a child deserves less.

Why reasoning matters — especially for children

A court order without reasoning is not a decision. It's a decree. It tells you what happened but not why. And when the "what" is cutting a child's monthly support by over 60%, the "why" becomes everything.

Was the father actually in financial distress? Maybe. But the High Court didn't verify his claim. It didn't ask for bank statements, salary slips, or tax returns. It didn't compare his income to his daughter's needs. It just took his word for it. The Supreme Court has held in Kaushalya v. Mukesh Jain and Neha Tyagi v. Lieutenant Colonel Deepak Tyagi that maintenance orders must be based on evidence, not bare assertions. The High Court ignored those precedents.

The Supreme Court's intervention sends a clear message: revisional courts — courts that review lower court decisions — cannot overturn reasoned orders with cryptic one-liners. They must engage with the evidence. They must explain their reasoning. Especially when the case involves a child.

Aditi is now 6 or 7 years old. She has been in litigation since she was a toddler. The case has been going on since 2018 — more than half her life. Every delay, every cryptic order, every remand means another month of uncertainty for her. Another month when her mother doesn't know if the ₹20,000 will arrive or the ₹7,500 or nothing at all. A child's school bag, her uniform, her prescription from the local clinic — these are the real stakes behind every legal paragraph.

What happens next

The case is now back before the High Court of Madhya Pradesh at Gwalior. The High Court must hear the matter afresh. It must issue notice to the father. It must ensure both parties file the mandatory disclosure affidavits under Rajnesh v. Neha. And it must pass a reasoned order — one that actually explains why the maintenance amount is what it is.

The Supreme Court has also directed its Secretary General to re-circulate the Rajnesh guidelines. Every judicial officer in India handling maintenance cases should now be reminded: the disclosure affidavit is mandatory. No affidavit, no maintenance order.

THE PLAY: In every maintenance case — whether at the Family Court or the High Court — insist on the mandatory Affidavit of Disclosure of Assets and Liabilities from both parties before any order is passed.

The father claimed financial distress. The court never checked. That's why the order fell.