There are very few books on women of middle India. This is the woman who was neither the parlour Didi, nor a scion of a business family. Where did she live? What did she do? What did she buy? Where did she study? We knew little beyond the stereotype of groups of women from kitty clubs taking WoW tours and posting photographs on Facebook groups. As a co-founder of SALT, the author, Shinjini Kumar, has helped thousands of such women start their financial independence journey. Through multiple meetings across multiple cities, Shinjini has captured the unique stories of these very ‘Middle India’ women, witnessing how they have risen despite their archaic marriage and family structures behind the modern living rooms with Apple and Google television sets and Pinterest inspired gardens. With a writing style that is accessible and fun, Busy Women is an inspirational read on the little green shoots of independence nestled within the ossified joint family structures of so-called Middle India.
A book about “empowerment” that even a self‑help sceptic can love
I should confess upfront: I usually run a mile from anything that looks like “female empowerment” literature. I live in fear of being “inspired” and generally prefer to wallow in dense biographies and history tomes instead.
Busy Women surprised me and, frankly, confused me in the best possible way.
It’s quietly optimistic, stubbornly realistic and often very, very funny. There are no sermons here. The book never lectures you about empowerment, gender, ambition or patriarchy; it simply lets these women speak, and in that gentle, conversational storytelling you begin to see how radical their everyday life choices are.
What I loved is how these women are not presented as glossy “girlboss” clichés. They are busy running petrol pumps, clinics, factories and schools, then going home to deal with homework, in‑laws and the endless logistics of normal Indian family life.
They are traditional and transgressive at the same time, inheriting family businesses as daughters or stepping in as daughters‑in‑law, often becoming the unlikely custodians of legacy in places most of us only drive past on the highway.
Shinjini’s writing is beautiful and oddly relaxing. It’s the kind of prose that envelops you: you can picture the small towns, hear the women talk, and almost smell the chai they’re sipping as they negotiate with bankers, suppliers, and relatives.
The tone stays clear‑eyed about constraints but never cynical; it made me feel a quietly, calmly optimistic.
If, like me, you distrust anything that promises to “change your life”, but liked to be stirred to think by a book - you will love this. It simply tells you stories of real life women who are already, patiently and pragmatically, transforming the India around them.