In a twist that might surprise some, when we talk about the gender pay gap in India we can now say: the “gap” is shrinking — though by no means vanquished. According to the latest figures from the 2025 Deel Compensation Report, median salaries for men and women in India are “nearly identical,” reportedly ranging between US $13,000 and $23,000. That means, on the surface if you’re a woman in India doing a median-pay job, you might now be bouncing around the same salary ballpark as a male counterpart — a welcome “equal pay” headline.
Yet let’s pause before popping the champaña. Because while the headline number is promising, “pay parity” isn’t the same as real gender equality. In fact, this moment offers a chance for a deeper reading of the story — one that understands the Hindi term “sam-maân” (सम्मान) meaning respect or equivalence, which is still incomplete.
To step back: India has long been painted among the laggards in gender equality. In the 2025 World Economic Forum Global Gender Gap Index, the country ranked 131st out of 148 economies, with a parity score around 64.4 %. Meanwhile, for the South Asia region more broadly, the “Economic Participation and Opportunity” score remains stubbornly low, measured at just 40.6 % in the 2025 WEF digest. And as for wage-based earning gaps, one recent estimate from the International Labour Organization (ILO) suggests women in India still earn around 25 per cent less than men — though this is broadly across sectors and informal/formal work, so should be treated with caution.
So what gives? How is it possible that median salaries appear near-parity while deeper structural indicators tell a different tale? A few key points:
First, narrowing a gender pay gap at the “median” level often reflects changes in formal employment, larger companies or urban settings, while the informal sector — where many Indian women work — remains under-analysed and under-paid. The “sticky floor” and “glass ceiling” metaphors remain relevant: in industries such as tech or design, the gap still shows up. For example, one study found that in India’s tech-nerve-centres, women with equal titles were still paid less.
Second, equal median pay doesn’t address representation. Even if women and men in certain roles are paid similarly, women are still much less likely to hold those roles: senior leadership, board seats or the jobs with highest pay. For example, women hold only about 17 % of C-suite roles among India’s major corporations. That means parity in one layer doesn’t translate into equity in the entire ecosystem — it’s as if the game has more female players, but they’re still not on the same field, or not always allowed the same key positions.
Third, cultural and structural dynamics persist: norms around caregiving, homemaker roles (the Hindi term “griha-karni” गृह-कर्नी, meaning house-worker) and expectations that women interrupt careers for family duties still weigh heavily. The societal expectation that men are “bread-winners” and women are “care-givers” (पारंपरिक भूमिका – traditional role) is far from obsolete in many Indian households, especially outside urban centres. These norms influence job choice, tenure, negotiation power and thus pay. Even the best-intentioned employers cannot fix culture alone.
Fourth, we must compare across countries to see context: in South Asia, many countries lag behind or vary widely. The ILO data suggest Pakistan as among the worst for wage disparities (women earning ~34 % less than men). India’s 25 % gap is notably lower in comparison. But regional ranking remains poor: India still trails Nepal, Bhutan, Sri Lanka and Bangladesh in some gender-parity indices, meaning pay gaps are only one facet of measured inequality.
In short: yes, India appears to be making meaningful progress in narrowing the gender pay gap. That alone is positive and worth celebrating — let’s say the gap is moving from a wide gadhā (गड्हा – pit) to a narrower channel. But the view from the ground remains uneven. Equal pay now only makes sense if job access, career progression, representation and conditions are also moving in the same direction: broader “samanata” (समनता)- equality. Without that, we risk “pay parity” masking deeper inequalities — as if giving women the same ticket to the stadium, but not the same seat or spotlight.
So for those tracking gender equality in India: keep a weather-eye on the median wage story, yes, but also on who gets into leadership, how women progress after kids, how informal workers are treated, and how cultural expectations are shifting. Because narrowing pay gap is necessary but never sufficient. It is a rung on the ladder — not the whole climb.
Oh, look at India making headlines for finally paying women closer to what men earn — about time, darling! Spicy Auntie applauds every extra rupee that lands in a woman’s wallet instead of evaporating into the great patriarchal pocket of “ladka zyada laayak hai” (the boy is more deserving). Equal median pay? Yes, let’s celebrate that step forward. A tiny fist pump. A delicate hip shimmy. Maybe even a joyful “chai cheers!” across the subcontinent.
But before you throw gulal like it’s Holi in the streets, Auntie must gently tap the brakes on the bandwagon. Because “barabari” (true equality) isn’t just about the payslip. Tell me, are women getting those corner offices? Those venture-backed founder roles? Those union protections in the informal economy? Are mothers no longer penalized for daring to have children — or, heaven forbid, wanting both a family and a career? Is auntie expected to stop cooking, cleaning, and caregiving automatically just because she’s earning the same as uncle? No, my loves. The “second shift” still exists, and often the miserable third and fourth shifts too.
A narrow pay gap in the median doesn’t fix workplaces where women still battle the “log kya kahenge” (what will people say) attitude — bosses who wonder if she’ll “get too emotional,” colleagues who think she’s “too bold,” or in-laws who demand she quits the moment a baby arrives. Many Indian women aren’t even in the formal job market to begin with — not because they lack skills, ambition, or hustle, but because society slams countless invisible doors long before they reach an HR office.
So yes, Spicy Auntie is pleased — moderately, like a teacher circling “good effort” on a child’s homework but reminding them that half the assignment is missing. India’s progress matters. It sets a precedent in South Asia. It gives hope. It sends a message that women’s labour is valuable — not charity, not a side hustle to marriage, not an optional extra.
But let’s be clear: this is the foothill. The climb to the summit of equality is steep, sweaty, and sabotaged by centuries of patriarchy. Auntie wants to see Indian women not just earning the same — but leading, deciding, calling the shots, taking what they deserve without apologizing.
Until then, keep your “Almost There!” banners folded away. Auntie won’t dance until every sister — from Mumbai’s high-rises to Bihar’s farmlands — is standing on equal ground, not just equal pay.