As India marked Panchayati Raj Day recently, an important reflection emerged from an unlikely but significant source—the national debate on women’s reservation in Parliament. During recent discussions, the Prime Minister acknowledged the contribution of women in grassroots governance, noting that reservations in Panchayats have, in many states, reached 50 per cent and have demonstrated tangible outcomes. Drawing from his own experience, he emphasised that women leaders at the grassroots have brought sensitivity and effectiveness to governance.
This recognition is important. It affirms what has been visible across rural India for over three decades: women in Panchayati Raj Institutions (PRIs) are not merely symbolic representatives—they are capable leaders shaping development outcomes and social change. Yet, it also raises a deeper question. If the experience of Panchayats has been so encouraging, why does the promise of women’s political empowerment remain only partially fulfilled?
India’s constitutional vision was pioneering. The 73rd and 74th Constitutional Amendments institutionalised reservations for women in rural and urban local bodies, long before such measures gained global traction.
Today, more than 1.45 million women serve as elected representatives in PRIs, making it one of the largest democratic experiments in women’s political participation anywhere in the world. Several states have gone beyond the mandated one-third reservation to provide 50 per cent representation, further expanding the space for women in governance.
Over time, this has produced powerful examples of leadership. Women sarpanchs and pradhans have intervened to improve school functioning, strengthened access to health and nutrition services, and taken a stand against practices such as early marriage, dowry, and gender-based violence. In many regions, they have mobilised communities against alcoholism and asserted their presence in decision-making spaces traditionally dominated by men. These stories demonstrate the transformative potential of women’s leadership—not only in improving service delivery but also in challenging entrenched social norms.
Yet, these examples remain uneven and, in many cases, exceptional.
The deeper reality is that political representation has outpaced institutional preparedness. For a large number of women elected representatives, entering office marks the beginning of a struggle to understand and navigate governance systems that were never designed with them in mind.
One of the most persistent challenges is the lack of timely and meaningful capacity building. Training systems remain centralised, sporadic, and poorly aligned with the needs of first-time representatives. Many women begin their tenure with limited clarity about their roles, powers, and administrative procedures. By the time formal training reaches them, a substantial portion of their term has already elapsed. In the absence of structured support, they are compelled to rely on Panchayat secretaries or male family members, often at the cost of their autonomy and confidence.
Mobility further compounds this challenge. Effective governance requires regular engagement with block and district administrations—for approvals, fund flows, and coordination. However, public transport connectivity in rural areas remains weak, and there are no dedicated provisions to support the mobility of elected representatives. Visiting government offices becomes particularly difficult for women, who must negotiate not only logistical barriers but also social expectations around mobility and care responsibilities. Basic facilities such as waiting areas, functional sanitation, or spaces for childcare are often missing in these offices, making them unwelcoming and, at times, exclusionary.
In such a context, the persistence of proxy representation is not surprising. Male relatives frequently step in to perform official functions, and administrative systems, rather than resisting this practice, often accommodate it for convenience. What is seen as a social adjustment is, in effect, a dilution of democratic intent.
Equally significant is the absence of a gender lens in local governance processes. Despite the large presence of women representatives, planning frameworks such as the Gram Panchayat Development Plan (GPDP) remain largely gender-neutral in design and gender-blind in implementation. While themes such as “Mahila Hitayshi Panchayat” exist, they offer limited operational guidance on how to integrate gender concerns across sectors. There is little clarity on how women’s priorities are to be identified, how their participation in decision-making is to be ensured, or how outcomes are to be monitored and enforced.
This disconnect is particularly striking given the ecosystem that already exists at the grassroots. Women elected representatives are not alone; they are part of a broader network that includes Self Help Groups, ASHA workers, and Anganwadi workers. Together, they represent a critical mass capable of shaping local development agendas. Yet, this collective potential remains underutilised in formal governance processes.
If India is to move from representation to real empowerment, it must confront these structural gaps with urgency and intent.
The first step is to rethink capacity building as a continuous, decentralised process rather than a one-time intervention. Universities, civil society organisations, and local institutions can play a crucial role in creating learning ecosystems that provide ongoing mentoring, peer support, and context-specific problem-solving. Such an approach would enable women representatives to grow into their roles rather than struggle through them.
At the same time, the design of public institutions must be revisited. Panchayat Bhavans, block offices, and district headquarters need to become more inclusive spaces, equipped with basic facilities that make them accessible and functional for women. Institutional design is not merely a matter of infrastructure—it shapes who participates and how.
Mobility must also be recognised as a governance issue. Providing dedicated financial support for travel is not an administrative detail; it is central to ensuring that women representatives can function independently and engage directly with the system. Without this, autonomy remains constrained and mediated.
Equally important is the need to embed gender responsiveness within planning and budgeting processes. This requires moving beyond symbolic inclusion to developing frameworks that integrate gender across sectors, supported by data, monitoring systems, and accountability mechanisms. Without such integration, women’s participation risks remaining procedural rather than transformative.
Finally, representation within governance systems must extend beyond elected positions. Increasing the presence of women in frontline administrative roles, such as Panchayat Secretaries, can create a more enabling environment and improve institutional responsiveness to women leaders.
India’s experience with Panchayati Raj offers a powerful lesson at a time when the country is considering expanding women’s representation in higher legislatures. Representation creates opportunity, but it is institutional design that determines whether that opportunity translates into power.
Three decades after the constitutional amendments, India has succeeded in bringing women into the political arena in unprecedented numbers. The next challenge is to ensure that they are able to participate as informed, independent, and effective leaders. Only then can the promise of decentralisation—and of gender equality—be fully realised.
The author is a development practitioner working in the states of Madhya Pradesh and Chhattisgarh
Views expressed are the author’s own and don’t necessarily reflect those of Down To Earth