From Subbamma’s kitchen to Mantralaya

The climb is not finished. In every tehsil office and police station, women are still at that early stage, still the first, still proving themselves

It was the early 1970s. I was five years old, visiting my great-grandmother Subbamma in Phirangipuram, a small village in Andhra Pradesh. Subbamma lived alone. What stayed with me was her strange sombreness. She moved silently through the rooms in a white sari, no blouse, head shaved, bent half over the stove. No jewellery, no colour. Most women stayed in the shadows then.

My grandmother, Sitaramamma, was married off at 12, barely having passed fourth standard. My mother, Indira, was married at 16. Yet she loosened tradition’s hold quietly, earned her graduation degree in Telugu literature, becoming the first woman graduate in our family. She managed her household, and through all of it, she kept the dream alive for her daughter.

Before all of us, there was Anna Rajam George. In 1951, her interview board told her the IAS was not for a woman. Her appointment letter added: “In the event of marriage, your service will be terminated.” She became the first woman Secretary to the Government of India, built India’s first computerised port and received the Padma Bhushan.

Every step forward had to be fought for. The first woman CEO of a zilla parishad was met with “Bai nako”, not a woman. The District Collector, always a man’s chair from the days of the British, also yielded slowly. The more prominent divisional headquarters postings held out longer still.

I was among the early batches posted to one such district, Aurangabad, known for severe scarcity, communal tension, and frequent visits by high-profile political dignitaries. On one of my early field visits to Sillod, I found both sides of the road lined with people. When I asked if they had any problem to bring forward, they said: “Nust bagayla alo.” We just came to see a woman as a collector. The real question, present on every face, was whether a woman could handle what this district demanded.

Three years later, I returned to Sillod, eight months pregnant. Those three years had been a war against severe drought. Hundreds of water bodies were desilted through shram daan, villagers and district administration working shoulder to shoulder to catch every drop of rain. One of those talavs was in Sillod. They had named it Radha Talav. I stood there in the heat of Marathwada, carrying new life, and my eyes filled with gratitude. Not pride. Gratitude. For being accepted.

Women in the IAS grew from 15 percent in the 1970s to 41 percent of the 2023 batch. One in five secretary positions in the Government of India is now held by a woman.

This is clearly visible in Maharashtra. In July 2024, the three most senior All India Services posts were simultaneously held by women for the first time in any Indian state’s history: Chief Secretary, Director General of Police, and Principal Chief Conservator of Forests. In March 2026, Ashwini Bhide became the first woman to head the BMC in its 160-year history. Five women Additional Chief Secretaries, seven Municipal Commissioners, and nine Collectors now serve across the state. I am one of the five at Mantralaya.

But the climb is not finished. In every tehsil office and police station, women are still at that early stage, still the first, still proving themselves. The journey from Subbamma’s kitchen to Mantralaya was not won based on gender. It was won based on work. That is the only currency that has ever counted. That is the only one that should.

The writer is a serving IAS officer, currently Additional Chief Secretary, GAD Services, Maharashtra