I shouldn't have watched much of the video that caused the storm. A circle of 12 men, covered in bright wreaths, had been forming a new local government on the deep corner of India's countryside, reading aloud and stern statements at the ceremony.
The scandal was that the six people chosen to lead the village were women. These six were absent, each represented in her husband's place.
The video went viral after the ceremony on March 3rd, and reporters from the Indian National Newspaper descended on Paraswara village in central Chhattisgarh next week.
The public erasure of the six women's office holders was shocking, but little to no surprise. This kind of informal alternative is common in rural India, and is exactly where small time leadership positions have long been placed aside for women.
Since 1992, national rules regarding panchayats or traditional village councils have promised that half of all seats will be reserved for women. The idea was to lift a generation of female leaders and to better adapt the council to the needs of women.
However, the spirit of this law is often ignored, even when letters are observed. Women who are to be seated in the panchayat will serve as agents of their own husbands who are in power along with the elected men. Due to this “boss husband” role, Pradhan Pati, Hindi, has a well-known term.
India has come a long way to empower women at the national level. Only about 15% of the members of the Congress are women, with only two women in Prime Minister Narendra Modi's 30 ministers. The government approved a constitutional amendment in 2023 to reserve a third of all parliament seats for women, although it will not come into effect for at least four years.
Many female politicians have risen to national prominence, but it is not the seat of the panchayat, but often through relationships with established male politicians.
In Paraswara, the men attending the village sworn ceremony were guarding the absence of six women. One of the men, Bahal Ram Sahu, said in an interview that three women were ill and that three other women were needed at the funeral that day. The other witnesses were different in the details, but everything agreed with Mr. Saff. Sometimes the husband stands for his wife and says, “I don't think there's anything wrong.”
Over the past 15 years, Saf's wife, Ram Bai, has been elected three times in the Palaswara panchayat and once served as head of it. But “As a husband, I'm always with her,” he said. He counseled her on all the issues, he added, and represented her whenever she fainted.
The husband, who served as a substitute for a wife officially empowered, has become a stock character in fiction. “Panchayat” is the title of a popular series on Amazon Prime, where his wife pretends to hold the office where she was selected while the local boss in the village calls out shots on a string bed.
The central government is aware of this issue. In 2023, it commissioned a report aimed at “eliminating efforts to participate in the agency,” and last month proposed “model penalties” for husbands who take away their wife's role.
Even “Panchayat” has a role in television shows. As the series spools, the wife turns out to be a wi-like and capable personality, finding ways to exercise her legitimate authority. Currently, the show's producers are working with the government on a series of episodes entitled “Who's The Real Boss?”
Encouragement comes from real life in other parts of India as well. In Punjab, Sheshandeep Kaurshidhu became the head of the village panchayat at the age of 22.
After winning one of the seats reserved for the women, Sidhu turned to fixing issues relating to education and hygiene. She faced resistance. “I was very young and they were like, 'What can this girl achieve?',” she recalled.
Sidhu hopes that every woman sitting in every panchayat in India will cling to herself and her fellow women and use the power the nation has entrusted to them. Women like her must be “stubborn” and “clear your point to your husband.”
“I was told that politics is not considered good for girls and women,” Sidhu said. So she made her priority to solving iconic problems in the village.
For all households led by women, she hung a nameplate outside. These houses were known only by the names of their fathers, siblings or husbands. Now each one shows the names of the actual women who run the house.
