India’s democracy has grown in scale, but not quite in balance. Women today are active participants in elections, influencing outcomes in ways that were not as visible earlier. Yet their presence in legislative institutions continues to lag behind. The Nari Shakti Vandan Adhiniyam was meant to address this gap through reservation. But its linkage with delimitation brought in an element of delay, and perhaps even a degree of distrust, raising a basic question: does this present imbalance really need to wait for a redrawing of boundaries to be addressed?
The Representation Deficit: More than Just Numbers
The gap is easy to quantify, but harder to justify. In the 18th Lok Sabha (2024), only 74 women were elected – about 13.6% of the House. This is not dramatically different from where we were years ago. Progress has been slow, almost reluctant.
Globally, women make up over a quarter of national parliaments. In India, both at the Centre and in most state assemblies, we remain well below that mark. What makes this more puzzling is that women are no longer politically invisible as voters. They turn up, they decide, and increasingly, they influence electoral outcomes. Yet, they are still missing at the table where decisions are made.
This is not only about fairness; it is also about whether the system is working as it should. When half the population is not properly represented, it becomes harder to get the priorities right. After all, decisions made without the full picture rarely lead to the best outcomes.
Why Reservation is almost Inevitable
At some level, the idea of reservation in politics feels uncomfortable. It appears to interfere with what should ideally be a level playing field. But that assumption itself does not hold. The playing field has never been level.
Women don’t enter politics on equal footing. There are obvious barriers like access to funding and networks, but there are also less visible ones like those of social expectations, hesitation within parties, and the constant questioning of their winnability. As a result, parties tend to field fewer women candidates, which in turn limits how often voters see women in leadership roles. Over time, this just reinforces the same pattern.
This is also a coordination failure. No single actor changes behaviour because others are not expected to. Reservation, in this context, is less about favouring women and more about breaking a stalled equilibrium.
India’s experience at the grassroots level supports this. With over 14.5 lakh elected women representatives in Panchayati Raj institutions, governance priorities have visibly shifted towards health, education, sanitation, and welfare. Representation, therefore, does not just change who governs, but it changes what governance looks like.
Delimitation: Necessary Reset or Uncertain Waiting?
India’s Lok Sabha continues to have 543 elected members, a number effectively anchored in a framework based on the 1971 Census. Through subsequent constitutional amendments, the distribution of seats across states has been frozen until the first Census that is to be conducted after 2026. While constituency boundaries were updated in 2008 using 2001 Census data, the broader structure of representation has remained unchanged.
Meanwhile, India’s population has grown from about 55 crore in the early decades after independence to over 140 crore today. Yet, the number of representatives has not kept pace. Each member of Parliament now represents, on average, more than 25 lakh citizens. The strain on representation is pretty evident.
A useful way to think about this is to imagine a system expanding in scale without expanding its capacity. As constituencies grow larger, the ability of representatives to engage meaningfully with voters diminishes. Accountability becomes thinner, and responsiveness weaker.
On this note, delimitation does not look merely procedural, but seems necessary. There is a growing case for expanding the Lok Sabha, potentially to about 850 seats, to better reflect India’s demographic realities. Such an expansion would not only improve representation but also significantly amplify the impact of reservation. A 33% quota in a House of this size could translate into nearly 280-290 women MPs, a transformative shift from current levels.
At one level, linking reservation to delimitation may appear administratively reasonable. With the next general elections due in 2029, aligning implementation with a fresh delimitation exercise could allow for a more coherent rollout. Yet, the concern is not simply about waiting until 2029. It is about the uncertainty embedded in the process. Implementation now depends on a sequence of events, the conduct of the Census, the completion of delimitation, and the political consensus around expanding seats. India’s recent experience, most notably the delay of the 2021 Census, suggests that such timelines are not always predictable.
Another layer of complexity lies in the arithmetic presented around delimitation. The suggestion that the overall share of seats for southern states will remain broadly unchanged is not immediately intuitive. If the primary basis of delimitation is population, as implied by its linkage to the Census, then shifts in population should logically translate into changes in representation. How both objectives are reconciled remains unclear.
There is also a broader question around intent and timing. If the political will was really there, it is not clear what stopped the implementation of women’s reservation in the 2024 general elections.
In a society like ours, where power structures are still deeply shaped by patriarchy, reform is rarely straightforward. There is always a balancing act. The current approach seems to be trying to expand women’s representation without visibly taking anything away from men. In that sense, the delimitation exercise almost creates a win-win situation on paper. Women get more seats, and yet the absolute number of seats held by men does not really shrink.
But that also reveals something deeper. In a patriarchal society, appeasing women without displeasing men is never easy. The design of the reform seems to reflect exactly this tension, trying to move forward without really disturbing the existing balance of power.
From a policy perspective, this introduces an element of risk. A reform intended to address a clear and present imbalance becomes contingent on future administrative milestones, each carrying its own uncertainties. The question, therefore, is not whether some sequencing is necessary, it indeed is, but whether the design leaves too much room for slippage.
Changing the Lens of Lawmaking
An important concern in India is that women’s representation often remains symbolic, with real decision-making power lying elsewhere. This is particularly visible at the grassroots level, where the presence of women in office does not always translate into authority.
For decades, policymaking in India has carried the imprint of a male-dominated system. Women have often been treated as beneficiaries rather than as decision-makers. This has shaped both policy and perception. Women are seen as needing protection, yet are often expected to navigate structural disadvantages on their own. Such contradictions are reflected in the design of laws and institutions.
Greater representation has the potential to shift this lens, from protection to participation, from welfare to agency. Women bring into policymaking insights grounded in lived experience, whether it is how resources are distributed within households, how public services are accessed, or how safety and mobility shape economic choices.
This is simply better information. And better information leads to better policy.
The Case for a Big Push
Rosenstein-Rodan’s ‘Big Push Theory’ in development economics offers a useful lens here: when barriers are deeply embedded, small, incremental changes are not enough. What is required is a coordinated intervention that shifts the system to a new equilibrium.
Women’s political representation in India fits this description. The barriers are interconnected, whether they are social, institutional, and economic, and tend to reinforce one another. Left to itself, the system is unlikely to correct this imbalance quickly.
Reservation, in that sense, is the big push here. It compels change where organic evolution has been slow.
But a push alone is not enough. Its impact depends on what follows. Political parties will need to rethink how they select candidates. Campaign financing will need to become more accessible. And women leaders will need the space to function independently, not as extensions of existing power structures. Otherwise, the system may adjust at the surface while remaining unchanged underneath.
Conclusion: Who Writes the Rules Matters
At its core, this is not just a debate about quotas; it is a question of authorship. Women’s lives will not change in any meaningful way if they remain on the receiving end of policy. Change begins when they are part of writing it, when they shape priorities, allocate resources, and influence outcomes.
With the legislation now effectively stalled, the conversation has shifted. The question is no longer how reservation will be implemented, but whether and when it will be. What was meant to correct a clear imbalance risks turning into an open ended promise.
This uncertainty is not just procedural; it has real consequences. When reform is delayed, the status quo continues by default. In this case, that means women remain underrepresented in the very spaces where decisions are made. It also raises a more uncomfortable question. Why is it that when it comes to women’s representation, delay seems more acceptable. Is it because the costs are less visible, or because the voices demanding change are easier to overlook.
In the absence of structural change, the burden often shifts back to individuals. India has seen women like Indira Gandhi and Sushma Swaraj rise to positions of power without the support of reservation, carving out space through political will and capability. Their journeys are reminders of what is possible, but they are also exceptions, not the norm. A system cannot rely on exceptional cases to correct a structural imbalance.
For a country aspiring to be a developed economy by 2047, the real test is not just intent, but urgency. It is not just whether women will enter Parliament, but when and under what conditions.
Seats can be reserved, but power, as always, will have to be claimed.
