In the sun-baked fields of rural Maharashtra, under the relentless glare of a drought-stricken sky, Maya rises before dawn. She prepares a simple meal, secures her youngest child in a makeshift sling on her back, and heads out to tend the parched crops. Her elder daughter trails behind, clutching at the edges of her sari, seeking comfort. Maya is the unseen foundation of her family—a caregiver in the truest sense—balancing the weight of agricultural labor and the endless needs of motherhood.
Hundreds of miles away, in the heart of Mumbai’s concrete jungle, Rana weaves through the crowded streets, her mind juggling the deadlines of her corporate job and the mounting anxiety over her son’s daycare arrangements. The recent funding cuts have closed down the affordable crèche she relied on, leaving her in a lurch. Each day is a tightrope walk between professional aspirations and personal responsibilities, with no safety net in sight.
These stories are not isolated incidents but mirror the lives of millions across India. Caregiving is the silent engine that keeps the country moving, yet it remains vastly undervalued and unsupported. It’s a sector neglected, fragmented, and often relegated to the shadows—performed out of sight and, more critically, out of mind. And yet, a shared truth shines through: all caregivers care deeply about the wellbeing of those they nurture, regardless of their circumstances. Recognising this shared humanity could help reframe how we think about caregiving at both personal and systemic levels.
Women in India spend up to seven times more hours on unpaid care work than men. This staggering statistic is more than just a number; this disproportionate burden often confines women to low-paying, insecure jobs, limiting their opportunities for economic advancement. Public infrastructure intended to support caregivers, such as Anganwadi centres, while crucial, is insufficient to meet the diverse and growing demands. A staggering 92% of care work is unpaid. Even those who are paid for their care work operate in precarious conditions with minimal social security.
In urban centers like Mumbai and Bangalore, middle-class working parents struggle with the prohibitive costs of quality childcare. The National Crèche Scheme, intended to provide affordable childcare has seen a decrease in operational crèches—from 23,000 in 2001, to less than 7,000 today. The Anganwadi worker is often responsible for dozens of children, making personalized care nearly impossible. Migrant workers, single parents, and caregivers of differently-abled children often have unique needs that sometimes fall through the cracks, highlighting the need for inclusive systems.
Globally, countries such as Norway and Denmark have set commendable benchmarks with subsidised childcare and robust caregiver support systems. These nations demonstrate that investing in care infrastructure yields substantial social and economic benefits. In contrast, care in India remains predominantly a private responsibility with low public investment.
This systemic neglect has far-reaching implications not just for caregivers but also for the children in their care. Without adequate support systems, many children miss out on the nurturing environments they need to thrive. Recognizing caregiving as pivotal to a thriving childhood is not just an act of compassion—it is essential for India’s social and economic future. At the same time, it’s crucial to consider what we, as individuals and communities, can do differently to bridge these gaps. What if workplaces, neighbourhoods, and even our own households began to see caregiving not just as a personal responsibility, but as something we can all share and support?
The root causes of this crisis are deeply systemic. Caregiving has traditionally been viewed as a responsibility primarily shouldered by women, often overshadowing its significant economic and societal value. While steps have been taken to support caregiving, there is still room to strengthen policy and budgetary focus in this area. Similarly, workplace policies, such as paid parental leave and employer-supported childcare, could further evolve to better support caregiver employees, fostering more inclusive and productive work environments.
While grassroots organisations and community networks play a crucial role in supporting caregivers, limited resources make it challenging to sustain these efforts consistently. Yet, amidst these challenges, there are examples of resilience and abundance within India too — such as Meghalaya’s community-based childcare systems, which show how cultural frameworks can bolster caregiving. However, modern socio-economic pressures are straining these traditional networks, leaving caregivers to manage this landscape independently.
It is evident that caregiving is not merely a personal or family issue—it is a public good that demands collective action. India must reimagine its caregiving infrastructure by implementing stronger policy frameworks and fostering innovations in community care models. Beyond policies, there is a need for individual and community-led change—a rethinking of how we value, support, and share caregiving responsibilities. This involves not only expanding access but also recognizing caregiving as a vital economic contributor integral to the nation’s productivity and social well-being.
The current caregiving ecosystem in India is a patchwork of resilience and underinvestment. The dedication of caregivers like Maya and Rana demonstrates remarkable strength and adaptability, yet they shouldn’t have to bear this burden in isolation. By investing in care infrastructure and shifting mindsets, we can transform isolated struggles and an overlooked crisis into a shared responsibility, paving the way for joyful, play-filled childhoods and stronger, more supportive communities. The question we must ask is: where do we begin to stitch together a system that values, supports, and invests in caregiving—for the caregivers themselves and for the thriving childhoods they help shape? No conversation on the future of children and childhood and growth is complete without addressing this question. This note is an invitation to a conversation and thoughts on what it truly means for us.
