Educated Daughters, Homely Bahus: The Great Indian Work Paradox

By Parambrahma Tripathy 

If you walk into any middle-class Indian household today, you’re likely to meet a young woman with a shiny degree—maybe engineering, maybe an MBA, maybe even a PhD. She’s cracked tough exams, stayed up nights studying, and made her parents beam with pride. But fast forward a few years, and you might find her in the kitchen, juggling dal and daycare, her career dreams tucked away like an old textbook. This isn’t just a one-off story; it’s a pattern. Over the past few years, India has seen a curious paradox: more women are getting educated than ever before, yet fewer are working in the organised sector after marriage. The numbers tell a tale that’s both puzzling and revealing, and the roots of this lie deep in the messy, beautiful tangle of our socio-cultural fabric.

Female literacy vs formal employment

Let’s start with the numbers, because they don’t lie. According to the World Bank, in 2021, only 19% of Indian women were part of the formal workforce, down from 32% in 2005. That’s a steep drop, especially when you consider that female literacy has shot up from 29.8% in 1981 to over 65% in 2011, and women now outnumber men in many postgraduate courses. A 2024 report from the Times of India flagged something even more telling: 13% of employed women leave their jobs after marriage, but those with higher education are less likely to quit. Yet, the overall trend persists—education is rising, but workforce participation is not. The Periodic Labour Force Survey (PLFS) of 2020-21 shows a slight uptick in female labour force participation to 24.8%, but it’s still a far cry from the global average of 52.4%. So, what’s going on? Why are our educated daughters turning into stay-at-home daughters-in-law?

The answer isn’t just economics; it’s culture, expectations, and the invisible weight of tradition. In India, marriage isn’t just a union of two people—it’s a merger of families, and with that comes a rulebook no one explicitly writes but everyone follows. A woman’s role as a daughter-in-law often overshadows her identity as a professional. I remember chatting with a friend, Priya, who’d been a marketing manager at a top firm. After her wedding, her in-laws didn’t outright tell her to quit, but the hints were clear: “Who’ll look after the house?” “It’s nice to have someone at home for the kids.” She left her job within a year, not because she wanted to, but because the pressure was relentless. This isn’t just Priya’s story—it’s echoed across urban and rural India, where societal norms still glorify women as caregivers over career women.

Education becomes a paradox 

What’s fascinating, though, is how education itself plays a tricky role in this. You’d think a degree would be a ticket to independence, but in India, it’s often a ticket to a better marriage match. Research from the University of Maryland shows that parents invest in their daughters’ education not always for jobs but for “marriage market returns.” A well-educated girl is seen as a prize in the arranged marriage system—someone who’ll raise smart kids and manage the household with finesse. Oxford studies in Rajasthan found that in-laws often prefer an educated daughter-in-law who doesn’t work, because work is seen as a sign of financial need, which carries a subtle stigma. So, education becomes a paradox: it empowers women to dream big, but it also makes them “valuable” enough to stay home, especially when household incomes rise. As families get richer, per capita income jumped from $340 in 1991 to $2,020 in 2018, per some estimates—women are “freed” from the need to work, retreating to domestic roles because they can afford to.

Then there’s the marriage penalty, a term that’s gaining traction. Unlike the “child penalty” seen globally, where women drop out after motherhood, Indian women face a career hit right after marriage. A 2024 World Bank report noted that women’s employment drops by 12 percentage points post-marriage, even without kids. This is tied to patrilocality—when a bride moves to her husband’s home, often far from her workplace or support system. Suddenly, she’s navigating new family dynamics, expectations to host relatives, or even restrictions on her mobility. Add to that safety concerns—urban women often cite harassment or unsafe commutes as reasons to avoid jobs. A 2023 piece from India Today pointed out how inadequate urban infrastructure, like poor public transport, discourages women from staying employed. It’s not just about willpower; the system makes it harder.

But let’s not paint this as a simple victim story. There’s a cultural dance here, and women are active participants, sometimes by choice. Many educated women internalise the idea that family comes first. Sociologist, A.L. Sharada, put it well in an NPR article: in India, a woman’s role as a nurturing mother is glorified, while her ambitions as a competitor or achiever are often sidelined. This isn’t just external pressure; it’s woven into how women see themselves. I’ve met women who feel guilty for wanting a career over cooking dinner for their in-laws. And when husbands earn enough—thanks to rising male incomes, as noted in a 2020 Strategy+Business report—women often feel justified in stepping back. It’s not always coercion; sometimes it’s a trade-off they’re conditioned to accept.

Yet, there’s a new perspective bubbling up, one that flips the narrative. What if we stop seeing this as women “dropping out” and start seeing it as a failure of the workplace to keep them? Indian offices, even in the organised sector, aren’t always welcoming. The gender pay gap, as highlighted in the 2022 Oxfam India Discrimination Report, means women earn less for the same work, especially in tech or senior roles. Maternity leaves, despite the 2017 Maternity Benefit Act, often come with unspoken career costs. And mentorship? Forget it—women rarely have the networks men do. So, when the choice is between a demanding job with little support and a home where you’re valued (even if stereotypically), the latter can seem like the saner option.

Not a women’s issue; it’s an economic one!

This paradox isn’t just a women’s issue; it’s an economic one. India’s dreaming of a $5 trillion economy, but how do you get there when half your talent pool is sitting at home? The World Bank says if 50% of women joined the workforce, GDP growth could hit 9% a year. That’s not pocket change. The socio-cultural script needs a rewrite—not just for fairness but for progress. It starts with small shifts: workplaces offering creches, families sharing domestic loads, and society celebrating women who work as much as those who nurture. Education got women this far; now it’s time for culture to catch up.
So, the next time you meet that bright young graduate, don’t just ask her about her degree. Ask what she wants to do with it—and then ask why she might not. The answer will tell you more about India than any statistic ever could.

Parambrahma Tripathy is an author and Communication for Development professional with over 18 years of experience. He has worked with organizations like BBC Media Action, Landesa, The Energy Policy Institute at the University of Chicago, IPE Global, and Coceptual Media. He has been recognized with several awards, including the prestigious Laadli Media and Gender Sensitivity Award in 2022 and 2023, Best Lyricist of the Year in 2022, Dr. Radhanath Rath Fellowship for Journalism, Kalinga Literary Youth Award, Timepass Bestseller Award, Srujan India Youth Award, Utkal Sahitya Samaj Felicitation and Odia Yuva Stambha Samman(2023)

(DISCLAIMER: This is an opinion piece. The views expressed are the author’s own and have nothing to do with OTV’s charter or views. OTV does not assume any responsibility or liability for the same.)