From Panchayats to Parliament: Why women’s political rights remain unfulfilled

By Vikas Meshram* 

Whenever a bill comes before India’s Parliament, it is not merely a piece of legislation. It carries the weight of decades of history, the hopes of millions—especially women—and the tangled calculations of political parties. On April 16, the government tabled the Women’s Reservation Amendment Bill, the 131st Constitutional Amendment Bill 2026, alongside the Delimitation Bill 2026 and the Union Territory Laws Amendment Bill 2026 in the Lok Sabha. Ultimately, the bill was defeated. It received 298 votes in favour and 230 against, falling short of the two-thirds majority required for a constitutional amendment. With the NDA’s strength at 293, passage was never possible without opposition support.  

This defeat is not new. The struggle for women’s reservation has spanned three decades. The first bill was introduced on September 12, 1996, by the HD Deve Gowda government as the 81st Constitutional Amendment Bill. It failed to achieve consensus, was referred to a Joint Parliamentary Committee, and lapsed with the dissolution of the 11th Lok Sabha. Every subsequent government revived the issue, only for it to sink in the mud of political calculations.  

In 2010, the UPA government passed the Women’s Reservation Bill in the Rajya Sabha, deliberately avoiding the Lok Sabha where its coalition was divided. Sharad Yadav’s mocking reference to “park-cut women” symbolized the resistance within. Congress kept the bill alive in the upper house but never dared to bring it to the Lok Sabha. Then, in 2023, the Nari Shakti Vandan Adhiniyam—the 106th Constitutional Amendment—was passed with near-unanimous support. Only two MPs opposed it. Yet, the law carried a crucial condition: reservation would take effect only after delimitation following the 2026 census.  

The 2026 bill sought to redraw constituencies based on the 2011 census, raising Lok Sabha seats from 543 to 816 and reserving 33 percent for women from the 2029 elections. But delimitation became contentious, particularly for southern states. Tamil Nadu, Kerala, Karnataka, and Andhra Pradesh, having consciously curbed population growth while investing in education, health, and development, feared losing representation if seats were allocated solely by population. Their demand was that economic performance and human development indices also be factored in.  

The opposition argued that reservation should be implemented immediately on the existing 543 seats, without waiting for delimitation. Yet, the 2023 law itself had tied reservation to delimitation, and opposition parties had supported it then. Their reversal exposed contradictions. Instead of proposing an amendment to remove the condition, they rejected the bill outright. The BJP, meanwhile, was prepared to weaponize the defeat—posters and agitation plans were ready before the vote. Prime Minister Modi framed it as an effort to deliver rights pending for 40 years, but the question lingers: why was no consensus built during the BJP’s decade-long majority?  

At the heart of the stalemate lies a deeper truth: who truly wants women’s reservation? With 86 percent of Lok Sabha members and 90 percent of state legislators being men, one-third reservation would displace many entrenched incumbents. Constituencies are built over years of labour and crores of rupees; few male politicians willingly surrender them. This fear of losing one’s constituency, not lack of legislative will, has stalled reform since 1996.  

Contrast this with local governance. The 73rd and 74th Constitutional Amendments of 1993 reserved 33 percent seats for women in panchayati raj institutions. Over twenty states later raised this to 50 percent. Today, more than 14.5 lakh women serve in local bodies, nearly 46 percent of members. While some remain proxies for male relatives, many have proven their competence in administration and decision-making. A second generation of women leaders is now aspiring to rise from gram sabhas to assemblies. Yet, Parliament remains dismal: only 75 women in the 18th Lok Sabha (14 percent), 39 in the Rajya Sabha (17 percent), and just 464 women among 4,666 MPs and MLAs nationwide—a mere 10 percent.  

Dialogue is the missing piece. In 2023, near-unanimity was achieved. The same could have been possible in 2026 had the Prime Minister invited the opposition, formed an all-party committee, and addressed concerns openly—delimitation, OBC women’s quota, southern states’ fears. Instead, the bill mirrored the fate of the 2020 farm laws: introduced without adequate consultation, imposed for political gain, and abandoned amid protest.  

India’s politics has repeatedly betrayed Nari Shakti. But women voters today are more aware, their aspirations alive, and their judgment sharper. Women’s reservation is no longer just about parliamentary arithmetic—it is about social justice and political credibility. Until ruling and opposition parties rise above self-interest and engage sincerely, this dream will remain deferred, and half the nation will continue to pay the price.  

---

*Independent writer