Digital Literacy vs Digital Confidence

The digital divide in rural India is often described as an access problem. Smartphones are becoming increasingly common, data is becoming more affordable, and women are increasingly present on digital platforms, sharing messages, watching videos, and making video calls. However, this apparent inclusion masks a deeper exclusion. When it comes to using technology for business, like sending payments, managing accounts, registering enterprises on platforms, or selling online, many rural women hesitate. The contradiction is striking as access and skills exist, but ownership and confidence do not. The real barrier to digital inclusion is not digital literacy, but digital confidence.

Consider the experience of a rural woman entrepreneur who runs a home-based food business. She owns a smartphone, uses WhatsApp comfortably, and receives digital payments from customers. Yet she avoids sending money digitally, hesitates to use business apps, and depends on a family member for anything that she thinks is ‘important.’ Her fear of ‘what if something goes wrong?’ is not about a lack of knowledge, but about a lack of trust in oneself. Across rural contexts in India, women are digitally present but not digitally empowered. While they are users of technology, but unfortunately not the decision-makers within it.

Most development programs approach this challenge through the lens of digital literacy. Literacy is usually defined as the ability to operate a phone, navigate apps, recognise icons, or complete basic digital tasks. Training programs, device distributions, and short workshops are designed to tick these boxes. Once completed, women are counted as digitally included. However, literacy does not translate into agency. Knowing how to open an app does not mean feeling confident enough to transact independently. Watching a demonstration does not prepare someone to make decisions in real situations. Literacy teaches what to do, whereas confidence determines whether one dares to do it.

Digital confidence, unlike literacy, is rarely named, measured, or funded. It refers to a person’s trust in their own ability to use technology without fear, their willingness to make mistakes, and their sense of belonging in digital spaces. This confidence is more psychological than technical, emotional rather than instructional. For rural women, digital confidence is shaped by years of social conditioning that discourages experimentation, independence, and risk-taking. Without this confidence, technology remains something to be handled carefully or delegated to others.

The reasons for low digital confidence among rural women are structural and gendered. Financial fear is a major factor, with stories of fraud, which are often exaggerated, circulating widely. A single mistake can lead to loss of money, blame from family members, or public embarrassment. Cash, by contrast, feels safe and visible as it can be counted, corrected, and recovered. In this context, avoiding digital tools becomes a rational choice rather than a sign of ignorance.

Gendered control over technology further weakens confidence. In many households, men act as informal gatekeepers of digital systems. Even when women own phones, passwords, banking apps, and registrations are often managed by husbands or sons. Over time, this creates dependence and reinforces the belief that digital decision-making is not a woman’s responsibility. What begins as ‘help’ slowly turns into exclusion.

Men are often allowed to experiment, fail, and learn, while women, especially in rural settings, are not afforded the same grace. A mistake made by a woman is quickly interpreted as evidence that she should not be engaging in business or technology at all. This low tolerance for failure discourages curiosity and reinforces caution. When the social cost of error is high for women, playing safe becomes the only viable strategy.

Design and language barriers also play a role, as many digital platforms are not built for first-generation users. Interfaces are cluttered, English-heavy, and filled with technical or financial jargon. For women with limited formal education, each unfamiliar term reinforces a sense of exclusion. Technology begins to feel alien, designed for someone else, and confidence erodes further. The consequences of low digital confidence are visible in how rural women run their enterprises. As a result, businesses remain informal, small, and dependent on intermediaries. Family members or middlemen step in to handle digital aspects, capturing control and value. Instead of reducing inequality, technology ends up reinforcing existing power structures.

Evidence from the ground suggests that when confidence is addressed, outcomes change. In India’s SHG networks, women who participate in repeated, hands-on digital practice sessions gradually begin to transact independently. Rural women entrepreneurs who learn in peer groups adopt digital tools more confidently than those trained in isolation. The turning point is rarely a new app or feature; it is the moment a woman completes a task on her own and realises she can do it again.

Building digital confidence requires a different approach. Repetition matters more than certification. One-time trainings raise awareness, but confidence grows through continued practice. Peer role models are powerful, especially when women see others from similar backgrounds navigating technology successfully. Safe spaces for failure are essential, allowing women to learn without fear of financial or social consequences. Trusted human support through community facilitators, SHGs, or NGOs provides reassurance and continuity that technology alone cannot offer.

For policymakers, donors, and practitioners, this demands a rethinking of program design. Success should not be measured by the number of women trained or devices distributed, but by independent usage, decision-making, and willingness to explore digital tools. Budgets must allow for handholding, follow-ups, and time. Behavioural change cannot be rushed, and technology should not be treated as a shortcut to empowerment.At the policy level, digital public infrastructure holds enormous promise, but only if it is designed with gendered realities in mind. Women-first user experience, local-language interfaces, and community-based support systems are essential. Digital inclusion must be understood as a question of agency, not just access. Until rural women believe that the digital world belongs to them and they are confident to click, transact, and decide, technology will remain an accessory rather than a catalyst for entrepreneurship and change. The future of rural women’s enterprise will be built not just on smartphones, but on the transformative moment when a woman says to herself, I can do this,’ and acts without fear.

Circular economy solution for India’s cooking crisis

For the past decade, India’s clean cooking revolution was symbolised by a powerful image in the form of a woman in a rural village receiving her first LPG connection under the Pradhan Mantri Ujjwala Yojana (PMUY). It represented dignity, health, convenience, and liberation from the unpaid drudgery of firewood collection, respiratory illness, and smoky kitchens where women spent hours inhaling toxic fumes while cooking over firewood and dung cakes. And to be fair, it was a transformational policy intervention because it solved a critical access problem by expanding LPG connections to millions of low-income households. But as is often the case with development policy, solving access did not fully solve sustainability. 

The recent conflict in West Asia has disrupted global energy supply chains and exposed India’s dangerous dependence on imported cooking fuel. With tensions around Iran and the closure of the Strait of Hormuz, India, where nearly 60% of LPG demand is met through imports, and over 90% of those imports typically transit through Hormuz, has found itself in an avoidable crisis. LPG supplies have tightened, transportation costs have increased, and delays in refill deliveries have become common in many rural districts and smaller towns. In several places, households are reportedly waiting over 40 days for a cylinder refill. Prices have surged, black market sales have flourished, and many low-income families are being pushed back toward firewood, charcoal, and kerosene. India is facing its first wave of ‘energy migrants’ as LPG shortages and soaring fuel prices have triggered reverse migration from cities to villages, especially from the major industrial hubs, including Delhi, Mumbai and Surat. A clean cooking transition built on imported fossil fuel has suddenly begun to look alarmingly vulnerable.

India imports a substantial share of its LPG requirements, and a large portion of these imports move through geopolitically sensitive shipping routes. While India is considered a leader in clean cooking access, millions of households remain dependent on an international supply chain shaped by wars, shipping disruptions, currency fluctuations, and global oil politics. The rural poor, as always, bear the highest burden of this volatility. A delayed LPG refill in an urban apartment may be an inconvenience, but in rural India, it often means a family returns to collecting wood, spending additional hours on unpaid labour, or cutting back on cooked meals altogether. Small roadside eateries reduce their menu options, and migrant workers spend more on food. Development gains achieved over the years begin reversing quietly, one delayed cylinder at a time.

Today, the villages struggling with LPG shortages often possess enormous untapped energy resources sitting in plain sight. Across rural India, cattle dung, agricultural residue, poultry waste, kitchen scraps, and other organic materials are abundantly available. India has one of the world’s largest livestock populations, producing massive quantities of dung every single day. Much of this waste is either left to decompose openly, releasing methane into the atmosphere, or converted into traditional dung cakes that burn inefficiently and create harmful smoke. What if this waste could instead become a reliable source of clean cooking fuel? That is precisely where biogas emerges not merely as an alternative, but as a strategic necessity.

Biogas is produced through anaerobic digestion, a process where organic waste decomposes in oxygen-free chambers and releases methane-rich gas that can be used for cooking. The leftover slurry becomes high-quality organic fertiliser. This is an excellent circular economy model where households generate fuel from waste while simultaneously reducing fertiliser costs for farming. For rural families, this means lower dependence on LPG refills, lower household expenditure, improved sanitation, reduced smoke exposure, and additional agricultural benefits. Unlike LPG, biogas is hyperlocal as it does not depend on international shipping routes, refinery outputs, or geopolitical stability. Unlike firewood, it burns cleanly. Unlike solar cookers, it works regardless of weather or time of day. Unlike electric induction stoves, it does not depend on stable electricity supply, which remains inconsistent in many rural areas. In a world increasingly shaped by supply chain disruptions, biogas offers resilience.

India does not need to invent this model from scratch because proven examples already exist. In parts of Rajasthan, Maharashtra, Gujarat, Karnataka, Punjab, and several other Indian states, communities have successfully adopted household and community biogas systems. Villages linked to dairy cooperatives have demonstrated how cattle waste can be transformed into reliable cooking fuel. Some communities have significantly reduced their dependence on LPG altogether. During recent supply disruptions, such villages and farming households were largely insulated from shortages because their cooking fuel was produced locally. No waiting for gas agencies, no inflated black-market prices, and no dependence on international conflict. Their kitchens continue to function because their fuel is local.

What makes India’s underinvestment in biogas particularly frustrating is that the policy architecture already exists. The government has long operated biogas programs through the Ministry of New and Renewable Energy, and initiatives like Sustainable Alternative Towards Affordable Transportation (SATAT) have promoted compressed biogas (CBG). Yet these efforts have often remained fragmented, underfunded, and treated as niche rural welfare programs rather than core components of national energy security. India tends to think big when discussing energy with large refineries, strategic petroleum reserves, international supply agreements, and mega infrastructure. These are important; however, true resilience often comes from decentralisation. A household biogas unit in a rural village may seem small compared to an oil refinery, but millions of such units can collectively create enormous national resilience.

Imagine if even a quarter of India’s livestock-owning rural households had access to functional biogas systems. Or village-level community digesters serving clusters of homes where individual ownership is not feasible. Imagine schools, Anganwadis, hostels, and community kitchens using biogas generated from local organic waste. Think of self-help groups running maintenance services for biogas units as local enterprises. Imagine MGNREGA funding village-level renewable energy infrastructure. Suddenly, biogas can move from being a sustainability experiment to becoming a serious economic and strategic asset.

The climate benefits further strengthen this strategy. Methane emissions from unmanaged livestock waste contribute significantly to global warming. Capturing this methane for productive use helps reduce greenhouse gas emissions. Every cubic meter unit of biogas reduces 2 tons CO2e/year. Reduced firewood usage can lower deforestation pressures. Bio-slurry reduces dependence on chemical fertilisers, moving towards sustainable agriculture. Lower LPG consumption reduces fossil fuel imports. Biogas sits at the intersection of climate policy, rural livelihoods, women’s empowerment, waste management, and energy security, a rare policy intervention that solves multiple problems simultaneously. Biogas directly contributes to SDG 5 (Gender Equality), SDG 7 (Affordable and Clean Energy), and Sustainable Energy for All (SE4ALL). It also delivers results that contribute to SDG 1 (Poverty Eradication), SDG 3 (Good Health and Well-being), and SDG 13 (Climate Action).

The current LPG crisis should serve as a warning. The war in the Middle East did not create India’s vulnerability, merely exposed it. A country aspiring to become a global economic power cannot allow millions of household kitchens to remain hostage to international conflict. Energy security cannot only be discussed in terms of crude oil imports and electricity generation. It must also include the daily cooking needs of ordinary citizens. The woman waiting 40 days for an LPG cylinder in a rural village is experiencing energy insecurity in its most human form. India’s future energy strategy must become far more diversified. LPG will continue to play an important role, particularly in urban areas and transitional markets. But it cannot remain the singular answer for rural cooking energy. Biogas offers India local control that imported LPG can never provide. It transforms waste into wealth, dependency into resilience, and vulnerability into self-reliance. In a century likely to be shaped by geopolitical instability, climate disruptions, and fragile global supply chains, the most strategic energy resource may not be buried deep underground or shipped across oceans. It may be sitting quietly in rural backyards, waiting for India to finally recognise its potential.

Small Things Like These

Author: Claire Keegan | 128 Pages | Genre: Historical Fiction | Publisher: Faber and Faber | Year: 2021 | My Rating: 8/10

Microenterprises, Macro Impact: The transformative social impact by rural women entrepreneurs

Across India’s villages, a quieter and powerful transformation is unfolding, led by women entrepreneurs building microenterprises that are changing not just their lives but also contributing towards local prosperity.

In rural India, microenterprises (and many a time, even termed as nanoenterprises) are typically small-scale and often home-based ventures. These include tailoring shops, grocery stores, food processing units, poultry farms, handloom or handicraft businesses, among many others. They usually operate with minimal capital, often under INR 1 lakh, and rely on family support systems. While these businesses may appear modest on the surface, they’re laying the foundation for grassroots economic resilience and social transformation.

When a woman in a village starts a business, she’s not just earning an income, she’s stepping into a position of agency. She becomes a decision-maker, a provider, and importantly, a role model.

In Jharkhand, Shashi, a determined and resilient woman, has become a role model of empowerment in her village of Kura. With knowledge, financial and device support, she started her Digital Business, which became a hub of convenience and accessibility for people in her village and neighbouring villages. Her journey as a digital entrepreneur empowered her and gave her the agency to make a meaningful contribution to her community. Today, she’s also a Mukhiya (village head) and fondly known as “Digital Mukhiya”, continuing to be the voice of women’s empowerment.

Microenterprises help address the rural employment gap, especially for women who often can’t migrate or work outside the home due to social norms and family responsibilities. These businesses absorb local labour, retain economic value in the village, and reduce dependence on urban employment.

In Assam, Mintai’s Jacquard Handloom Weaving business now employs 3-4 local women who were previously unemployed. They earn and save, and for the first time, imagine futures that include good education for their children or owning a business.

This kind of bottom-up economic activity contributes to local economic resilience, the ability of communities to survive and thrive even during external shocks. The social impact generated by women entrepreneurs is profound. This often translates into higher educational aspirations for children, especially girls staying and completing their school education; increased income leading to better nutrition, access to healthcare and sanitation leading to improved health outcomes; acceptance and shift in gender norms; and financial independence gives women negotiating power within households leading to lower rates of domestic violence.

Despite their success, rural women entrepreneurs continue to face systemic challenges like, (a) collateral requirements and credit histories disqualify many from accessing formal loans, (b) getting products to larger and fairer markets remains a logistical challenge, (c) stifling social norms due to resistance from family or community, (d) accessing business education to develop ‘aptitude’ matching their entrepreneurial ‘attitude’, and ( e) digital divide due to limited access to smartphones and digital tools. While schemes like Stand-Up India and MUDRA loans have made progress, implementation gaps persist.

Rural women’s microenterprises are not side projects. They are economic engines, social change-makers, and community stabilizers. When one woman is empowered to start a business, a ripple begins, touching families, uplifting communities, and reshaping rural India from the ground up.

If you’re a policymaker, social investor, donor, or even just a storyteller, your support can help expand that ripple into a wave and finally a movement of economic security and resilience.

(All views are personal)

(Cover image generated using AI)

#Stand-upIndia #LetsDoMore

Who are urban marginalized people

Photo Credit: https://humana-india.org/

In last 2-3 years, I have been part of several discussions to define and build a consensus on understanding of urban marginalised and vulnerable population (UMVP) in the context of India, and how this population group has been evolving and growing in numbers. India’s rapid urbanization over the past few decades has transformed its cities into economic powerhouses contributing 60% of India’s GDP. While in 2023 around 37% of India’s population lived in urban areas, it is estimated that by 2036, half of India’s population will live in cities. However, this growth has also led to the marginalization of a significant portion of the population. Cities Alliance estimated that 25% of the population living in urban areas are below the poverty line. By this estimate, a shocking 125+ million people are marginalised and vulnerable living in the urban areas. The urban marginalized and vulnerable groups comprising of slum dwellers, informal workers, migrant labourers, women, children, and the homeless face numerous challenges like access to basic citizens’ rights, services, and opportunities. As India continues its urban transition, addressing the vulnerabilities of these populations is critical to achieving inclusive development.

The UMVPs live in precarious conditions, often lacking access to basic services like clean water, housing, sanitation, healthcare, and education. Their vulnerabilities are shaped by socio-economic, cultural, political, and structural factors that leave them excluded from mainstream urban life. They often lack the necessary documentation to access government schemes and services, such as ration cards, Aadhaar cards, or voter identification. This exclusion prevents them from benefiting from welfare programs like the Public Distribution System (PDS), healthcare subsidies, or housing schemes. The UMVPs can broadly be classified in five sub-groups,

  1. Slum Dwellers: According to the 2011 Census, about 65 million people in India live in urban slums. Slums across India have poor housing, lack of sanitation, overcrowding, and a high risk of diseases, especially communicable. People living in the slums often have insecure tenure, making them vulnerable to eviction and displacement due to urban development projects. Displacement not only disrupts their livelihoods but also pushes them further into poverty. Poor living conditions contribute to health problems, including respiratory diseases (especially TB) and waterborne infections.
  • Homeless Population: India’s urban homeless population is particularly vulnerable, facing extreme marginalization. With no permanent shelter, the homeless are exposed to harsh weather conditions, violence, and health risks. They have limited access to government welfare schemes and often fall outside the purview of census data, making it difficult to design targeted interventions. HLRN estimates that there could be more than 3 million homeless individuals. Extreme poverty, unemployment, displacement due to natural disasters, mental illness, substance abuse, runaways, are often the causes of homelessness, and their numbers are continuously increasing in urban India.
  • Informal Workers: The informal sector accounts for nearly 80% of India’s urban workforce. This includes daily wage labourers, street vendors, domestic workers, and construction workers, among others. Informal workers lack job security, social protection, and access to formal financial systems, leaving them vulnerable to economic shocks. The COVID-19 pandemic exposed the extreme vulnerability of informal workers, who faced sudden job losses and had low-to-no access to financial aid. Informal workers often are slum dwellers, or live in low income housing colonies, or are even homeless.
  • Migrant Laborers: Migration to cities in search of employment and better life is common in India. However, migrant labourers, often from rural areas both intra- and inter-state, face significant challenges in urban settings. They often find employment in low-paying jobs with little to no benefits, live in temporary or inadequate housing, and struggle to access public services due to a lack of local identification documents. Temporary migratory population is also a sub-set of this group, who come to cities for seasonal work, migrate from one place to another, also migrate within the cities in search of work. Construction workers and artisanal nomadic groups can be good examples of migratory population.
  • Women and Children: Women and children within urban marginalized communities living in slums or informal settlements often work in low-paid informal jobs while managing household responsibilities. They are more likely to experience gender-based violence, discrimination and exploitation, limited access to healthcare, and lack of educational/skilling opportunities. Children in these settings suffer from malnutrition, poor schooling, and limited opportunities for social mobility. They often attend poorly equipped government schools or are forced to drop out to contribute to household income.

India’s urban marginalized and vulnerable populations represent a significant and often overlooked segment of society. Ensuring their inclusion in the country’s urban development is essential for sustainable and equitable growth, while bestowing opportunity and dignity for all citizens as their Right.