Kumar Bahukhandi
The problem isn’t a single policy failure or a cultural flaw. Studies reveal a layered crisis: intertwining social norms, economic exclusions, weak policy commitments, and systemic political indifference. — Representational Image/Internet
While some countries inch forward, others remain stagnant or regress. India, unfortunately, falls into the latter group. Ranked 131 out of 148 countries, India’s gender parity score is just 64.1 per cent, making it one of the lowest globally
The World Economic Forum’s 2025 Global Gender Gap Report has yet again revealed a bitter truth, both uncomfortable and inconvenient: at the current pace, it will take 123 years to close the global gender gap. That’s more than a lifetime for most.
While some countries inch forward, others remain stagnant or regress. India, unfortunately, falls into the latter group. Ranked 131 out of 148 countries, India’s gender parity score is just 64.1 per cent, making it one of the lowest globally.
Meanwhile, nations like Iceland, Finland, and Norway continue to hold their positions at the top. Iceland, remarkably, has stayed number one for the fifteenth straight year. It has nearly closed the gender gap in political empowerment, an area where India lags far behind, with just 22.9 per cent parity. Only 13.8 per cent of parliamentary seats here are held by women. That number isn’t just low — it is falling.
So, what is going wrong for India? The problem isn’t a single policy failure or a cultural flaw. Studies reveal a layered crisis: intertwining social norms, economic exclusions, weak policy commitments, and systemic political indifference. On paper, India has made strides in some areas. Education, for example, is one such area, with female literacy improving and a gender parity score in education close to 97 per cent. Health indicators, too, have shown some improvement.
However, these achievements are only surface-level gains. Dig a little deeper, and a different picture emerges.
Employment is a case in point. Only 45.9 per cent of working-age women are engaged in the labour force. Many of them are stuck in unpaid or informal roles, earning, on average, nearly 30 per cent less than men. Highly educated women are often pushed out of the workforce by a lack of childcare, unsafe commutes, and rigid gender roles. Urban women, despite formal employment, shoulder the “second shift” of household labour, while rural women, mainly from marginalised castes, toil in invisible, unrecognised, and often unpaid labour.
From a political standpoint, the picture is no different. Yes, India has had a few strong women in leadership, but these are exceptions, not the norm. One needs to make a distinction here between “descriptive representation” (the presence of women in political office) and “substantive representation” (women actually influencing policy). India has little of either. Even the Women’s Reservation Bill, which was passed in 2023 after decades of delay, is yet to be implemented.
Without legal compulsion, political parties continue to field women only where they are unlikely to win. Thus, the cycle continues.
One might ask: don’t we have laws and schemes in place to fix this? We do. However, many have turned out to be more symbolic than structural. Campaigns like “Beti Bachao Beti Padhao” made a splash, but audits later revealed that more than half the money was spent on advertising rather than actual interventions. Schemes to support female entrepreneurs or get girls into science and tech exist, but they are fragmented, poorly funded, and seldom evaluated for real impact.
Gender budgeting, a promising policy tool introduced in India in the early 2000s, has lost its teeth, reduced to a tick-box exercise rather than a genuine attempt to rewire resource allocation
The deeper issue, of course, lies in the cultural realm that still governs everyday life in much of the country. Patriarchal attitudes, often invisible, always persistent, shape how girls are raised, how women are treated, and what they are expected to become. Amartya Sen once spoke of the “missing women” — a phrase that captured how cultural bias, neglect, and violence had literally reduced the number of girls in certain populations. That mindset has not disappeared. Girls are still nudged toward marriage over career, and women who assert themselves in public life are often met with discomfort or disdain.
Compare this with what’s happening elsewhere. In the Nordic countries, gender equality is not an afterthought. It’s foundational. It’s built into their policies, economies, and everyday routines.
Norway, for instance, mandates that 40 percent of seats on corporate boards be reserved for women. Sweden offers nearly 500 days of paid parental leave, shared between both parents. In Iceland, over 70 percent of fathers take paternity leave. These aren’t just perks; they’re deliberate strategies to reshape norms and make care work visible, valuable, and shared. In fact, this approach is rooted in what feminist scholars call the “capabilities approach”, which focuses not just on what rights people formally have but on what they are actually able to do and be. In India, too many women still lack real capabilities, even if they have nominal rights.
So, where does India go from here? We’re not short of resources. We’re not lacking in examples to learn from. What we’re missing is urgency and a recognition that gender inequality is not a “women’s issue”, but a national development crisis. It affects GDP growth, health outcomes, educational achievement, and democratic participation. Yet, it’s often relegated to the margins of policy discourse. Unless there is a serious, sustained commitment from the state, civil society, and political leadership, the promises will remain just that.
Being ranked 131st is not just an embarrassment on paper. It’s a reflection of how far we still have to go, and how much we’ve already chosen to overlook.
The writer is Asst. Professor nd a story writer on Arts and Humanities .
