Politics and Optics: Why Women’s Reservation in Parliament Should Come Without the Delimitation Caveat

For the past few days, the public narrative has suggested that the constitution amendment Bill, meant to operationalise women’s reservation, “failed” in parliament on April 17. This framing is, at best, incomplete. 

The constitutional basis for women’s reservation was already established through the 106th Constitutional Amendment Act, 2023, which had received unanimous support from all political parties. What came before the Lok Sabha on April 17 this year was, however, a broader legislative package. 

Three separate bills were taken up together: Constitution (131st Amendment) Bill, 2026, the Delimitation Bill, 2026, and the Union Territories Laws (Amendment) Bill.

In effect, what was presented as a women’s reservation measure, in large part, was a delimitation-linked reform. The question, then, is not whether women’s reservation should exist – parliament has already agreed upon that – but if the implementation needs to be contingent on such a complex and politically sensitive exercise.

It is in this context that the political framing following the failure of the three Bills becomes significant. 

The contradiction is difficult to ignore. In his address to the nation, Prime Minister Narendra Modi described the outcome as a setback to women’s empowerment, suggesting that opposition resistance had stalled a historic reform. 

He apologised to women, stating that their aspirations had been “crushed”, while reiterating the government’s commitment to increasing women’s representation. This characterisation simplifies a more complex disagreement. Opposition parties have consistently maintained that they support women’s reservation, pointing to its earlier passage in 2023 and their backing of similar measures in the past. Their principal objection has been to the government’s decision to link its implementation to delimitation.

Women’s reservation has been presented by the ruling party as a moment of ‘Nari Shakti’; a historic step towards justice. But in practice, it has been wrapped in conditions so complex that its implementation now remains uncertain. The disagreement, therefore, is not about whether women should have greater representation, but whether that representation should be made dependent on a far-reaching restructuring of electoral boundaries.

Also read: A Fair Way of Going About Women’s Reservation in the Lok Sabha

This also raises a larger question: if women’s empowerment has been a stated priority of the BJP, and the law has already been enacted through the Nari Shakti Vandan Adhiniyam, what explains the delay in its implementation within the existing parliamentary framework? Are the men in parliament afraid to lose their seats to women? 

The delay, in any case, is a consequence of how the law has been structured. By linking its implementation to a future Census and delimitation exercise, the government has effectively deferred women’s reservation, even though alternative legislative pathways could have enabled an earlier rollout.

The longest wait by women in Indian politics

This is not a new delay but part of a long pattern. Since the mid-1990s, successive governments have introduced versions of the women’s reservation Bill. In 1996, 1998, 1999, and again in 2008, it came close, only to collapse under political pressure. 

In 2008, under Manmohan Singh’s government, it even passed the Rajya Sabha, but never made it through the Lok Sabha. Not because women were unprepared for leadership, but because the political class kept finding reasons to delay. That is the uncomfortable truth. A parliament dominated by men could agree in principle, but repeatedly failed to act.

Even today, the system reflects the same imbalance. Women make up nearly 50% of India’s population but hold only around 14% of Lok Sabha seats, and roughly 9% in state assemblies. This is not a marginal gap, it is a democratic deficit.

And yet, women continue to participate in elections in large numbers. In fact, their voter turnout now matches, and sometimes exceeds, that of men. They show up for democracy but democracy has yet to show up for them.

What makes this delay even harder to justify is that India has already tested women’s leadership at the grassroot level.

Since 1992, reservations in panchayats have brought millions of women into governance. Today, nearly 46% of local representatives are women, over 14 lakh individuals shaping decisions at the grassroots. The results are visible: better implementation of welfare schemes; greater focus on health, education, sanitation and water; and in many cases, lower corruption. 

Gender gap in law making

Discussions on violence against women in legislative spaces have often exposed an uneasy relationship between power and empathy, where the gravity of sexual violence is reduced to rhetoric, interruptions or political theatre rather than being treated as a crisis demanding urgency.

As per the Inter-Parliamentary Union data, women hold only about 13.62% of  seats in the Lok Sabha, around 16.7% in the Rajya Sabha and roughly 9-10% in state assemblies, with representation rarely crossing 15%. The imbalance extends to the judiciary, where women account for only about 14-15% of high court judges and remain a small minority in the Supreme Court, despite somewhat better representation in the lower judiciary (Supreme Court of India, Handbook on Gender and the Indian Judiciary, 2023).

The question of women’s representation in lawmaking, then, is no longer symbolic, it is structural. Can institutions that remain overwhelmingly male in composition fully understand, prioritise or respond to the lived realities of half the population? Or does absence itself shape indifference? Can men make laws that address the issues of women?

Not only in the parliament but across the country, women are often at the forefront of protests that are not symbolic, but deeply rooted in survival and justice. For instance, in Madhya Pradesh, tribal women have been protesting the Ken-Betwa river linking project, fearing displacement from land, forests and homes they have depended on for generations. Similarly, in Beed district, the plight of women sugarcane labourers, many of whom have undergone hysterectomies to avoid losing wages during menstruation or pregnancy reveals how deeply structural inequalities shape their lives.

A common thread runs through all of these very different scenarios: women are not just participants in public life, they are often its most vocal moral conscience when institutions fail.

It is in this context that the debate on the Constitution (106th Amendment) Act, 2023, goes beyond the question of political arithmetic to whether India is willing to reshape its decision-making structures to reflect the realities of those who experience governance most directly.

Delimitation dilemma

The delimitation exercise is long overdue and essential for ensuring fair representation, but it has historically been carried out through broad political consensus. Without clarity on the methodology, safeguards and institutional design of the process, assurances of fairness remain difficult to evaluate. 

The government has argued that delimitation would be carried out in a manner that ensures fairness, with assurances that no state would be disadvantaged. The home minister even suggested a possible uniform increase in seats. Yet, the bill itself does not clearly specify the formula or mechanism through which this would be achieved. 

Whether redistribution is based strictly on population or through a uniform expansion, the outcome is unlikely to be politically neutral.

Also read: How to Overcome the Doubts Holding Back Women's Reservation Until 2034 And Beyond

Consider the arithmetic: Uttar Pradesh, which currently has 80 Lok Sabha seats, could see its strength rise to around 120 if a 50% increase model is applied. By contrast, a southern state with 30 seats would rise only to 45. Even if absolute numbers increase across the board, the relative balance of power shifts. States in northern India, many of which have higher population growth, are likely to gain greater influence compared to southern states that have stabilised population growth through sustained policy efforts.

Now, consider the projections if delimitation is done based on the 2011 Census: Lok Sabha seats are expanded to around 850 and distributed based on population: Uttar Pradesh could rise from 80 seats to around 138. Bihar could gain significantly. Rajasthan and Madhya Pradesh would also see increases. 

Meanwhile,Tamil Nadu could lose relative share despite rising in absolute numbers, Kerala would face a similar decline, Andhra Pradesh and Telangana together would see reduced proportional influence. This is a complete shift in the political centre of gravity.

The other concern of the opposition parties is that the whole exercise could function like large-scale gerrymandering. This arises from the recent delimitation in Jammu and Kashmir, which increased the number of seats in the Jammu region, and undoubtedly created structurally favourable conditions for the BJP by expanding representation in areas where it has historically enjoyed stronger electoral support, even if this advantage did not automatically translate into decisive electoral gains.

In that sense, delimitation is not merely a demographic or administrative exercise; it carries the potential to reshape electoral incentives in ways that could advantage the ruling party.

India has handled delimitation before. The 2002 exercise under Vajpayee was implemented with relatively limited political friction, partly because it operated within a consensus framework that avoided redistributing seats between states. What is missing today is not just agreement, but a credible effort to build it, especially as upcoming reforms carry far greater political consequences.

The risk of an unmanageable parliament

The proposal to expand the Lok Sabha to around 850 members raises another major issue. Such a House would be the largest legislative body in any democracy.

While greater representation sounds appealing, the scale has consequences. A House of that size risks becoming unwieldy, making debate less meaningful and oversight more difficult. At a more practical level, the expansion of parliament raises additional questions. With members already receiving limited time to speak, often just a few minutes in a session, will a significantly larger House enhance deliberation or further strain its functioning?

Representation must deepen democracy, not dilute its effectiveness. Further, there is also a concern that the balance between Lok Sabha and Rajya Sabha could shift, weakening the federal structure. Representation must strengthen democracy, not overwhelm it.

Beyond the blame game

In the coming days, there will be attempts to frame this as a simple political divide – supporters versus opponents of women’s reservation. It is important to note that that would be misleading.

The disagreement is not about whether women should have representation. It is about whether that representation should be made conditional on a contentious restructuring of political power.

There is also a larger test here, for the opposition as well. After decades of delay, this is a moment to rise above political reflexes and demonstrate that consensus is possible. India cannot afford to be a system where every reform collapses under competing interests. A nation cannot claim to move forward while holding back half its people.

Kanwal Singh is a policy analyst.

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