The instagram famous wind palace. Photo / Natasha Bazika
The instagram famous wind palace. Photo / Natasha Bazika
As writer Natasha Bazika journeys through India, she uncovers a fresh perspective on the country through the eyes of its women
Nothing humbles you faster than trying to cross a street in Delhi. Rickshaws, motorbikes, and the occasional sacred cow turn traffic into a full-blown obstacle course. I seriously doubt I’ll make it 20m without being flattened. But then Anjali Singh, our tour leader, steps forward, palm open, striding into the chaos like she owns it. “Follow me.”
Without hesitation, we fall in line. We move together, and somehow, the traffic parts. What felt threatening seconds ago now feels like a chance to embrace the unpredictable.
So begins our eight-day Intrepid Travel Women’s Expedition through India’s Golden Triangle - Delhi, Jodhpur, Jaipur and Agra - designed to support women-led businesses and cultural exchanges you’d never find in a brochure.
On day one, Singh guides us into Old Delhi, which, I’m told, isn’t all that different from New Delhi - a term coined by the British for a neighbourhood built for their families. “New Delhi” has wider roads, Singh explains, while “Old Delhi” is much more densely packed. That becomes obvious. In a city of 34 million people, moments of calm are rare. But inside Jama Masjid, the city’s largest mosque, there’s a surprising peace, even with its capacity for 25,000 worshippers.
Barefoot and robed, we step inside. A crowd immediately forms, locals asking for selfies. Singh assures us it’s normal. “If you feel uncomfortable,” she says, “just keep walking.” That, I learn quickly, is a skill you need in India. Outside, the chaos resumes, but now there’s a rhythm to it, one I’m starting to get, even if I’m still a bit of an outsider. At dinner, over copper pots of butter chicken and naan, an invention of Delhi, we introduce ourselves and let the day sink in.
Taj Mahal at sunrise. Photo / Natasha Bazika
The next morning, we board an IndiGo flight to Jodhpur, India’s answer to budget air travel. As I walk the jetway, a sign catches my eye: 44% of IndiGo’s workforce is female, including more than 800 pilots. Singh had mentioned the night before that 40% of Intrepid India’s tour leaders are women. Just numbers, sure, but they hit differently here; quiet proof that women are doing big things in places you might not expect.
In rural India, cultural expectations still lean heavily toward home and family. That’s especially true in villages like Chandelao, a 40-minute drive from Jodhpur. We roll in by mini-bus, and check into Chandelao Garh, a terracotta-hued former noble palace turned heritage hotel, and the force behind a women’s cooperative next door called Sunder Rang.
It’s 40C, the sun’s doing its best to melt us, and yet inside the shaded courtyard, four women sit weaving, stitching, chatting like it’s the best part of their day. And in many ways, it is. This isn’t just a job, it’s freedom. A rare chance to leave the house, talk to friends, and do something that’s entirely their own.
Women working at Sunder Rang. Photo / Natasha Bazika
Founded in 2007, Sunder Rang helps revive Rajasthan’s endangered handicrafts and trains women in embroidery, sewing, and dyeing. Everything sold is handmade and tagged with the name of its maker. Each woman earns a salary plus 60% of the profit. They even take research trips to temples. “It’s a chance to travel and learn,” says Praduman Singh, one of the founders. “And the temples promise salvation, so it’s a special trip.”
But ask the women why they keep showing up, and money is only part of it. It’s the chance to dress up, leave the house, laugh with women from the next village over, to feel like more than someone’s daughter, wife, or mother. From what I gather, the income is nice. The friendships might matter more.
That evening, our local guide Yadu led us through the village, trailed by curious kids. We reach the lake just in time for a burnt-orange sunset. On the walk back, the children stay close, casually shielding us from the occasional stray cow.
Jama Masjid mosque, largest mosqie in Delhi. Photo / Natasha Bazika
Dinner is under the stars in our terracotta palace. One of the women in our group wears a dress stitched by the artisans at Sunder Rang.
Driving Change
Four days in, one thing is clear: India’s roads are a man’s world - rickshaws, buses, scooters, nearly every driver is male. So when we zip around Jaipur in magenta e-rickshaws driven by women, heads turn.
Our first stop is for kulfi, India’s version of ice cream on a stick. I get pistachio-saffron. It’s here we meet Renu Sharma, the woman behind the Pink City Rickshaw Company. A decade ago, she was the first female rickshaw driver featured in an ad. Today, she leads a fleet of 200 female drivers.
Pink City Rickshaw drivers chatting. Photo / Natasha Bazika
“This isn’t just about driving,” she says. “It’s about changing what people think women can do.” When we ask if the stares ever bother her, she laughs. “I love it. One time, a guy stared so hard he crashed into an onion cart. Onions everywhere. It was hilarious.”
We drive past the Hawa Mahal, or Wind Palace, an ornate facade of screened windows built so royal women could watch the street without being seen, a religious and social practice called purdah. Judging by the crowd outside snapping selfies, it was made for Instagram, well ahead of its time.
We hop between food stalls, trying everything from samosas and kachori to my new favourite, aloo tikki chaat, a crisp potato patty topped with chutney.
Samosas, a popular street food in India. Photo / Natasha Bazika
The Sheroes
Our next stop along the Golden Triangle is Agra, home to the iconic Taj Mahal. We spend the night so we can rise at 4am and catch the sunrise over the marble masterpiece. It’s every bit as stunning as the travel guides and blogs say, but it’s lunch at Sheroes Hangout that moves me most.
Another worker at Sheroes cafe. Photo / Natasha Bazika
India’s acid attack epidemic is a brutal reality. Women are often targeted simply for rejecting unwanted advances or challenging societal expectations. These attacks leave more than physical scars; they shatter confidence, futures, and a sense of safety.
At Sheroes Hangout, a cafe in Agra run by the Chhanv Foundation, where acid attack survivors find work, support, and the strength to rebuild, we meet Dolly. She was just 13 when a man she refused threw acid on her face. After years of hiding, she found Sheroes in 2016.
Sheroes Cafe in Agra. Photo / Natasha Bazika
With Singh translating, Dolly tells us she recently bought her first property with her husband. She plans to build a home for their future family. Around our table, there isn’t a dry eye.
“It gave me more than a job. It gave me a reason to live again,” she says. “The women here know what it’s like, and that’s what makes it so strengthening.”
We’ve seen the Golden Triangle’s greatest hits, palaces, forts, and colourful bazaars, but the real highlight is the women I’ve met. Their strength, stories, and spirit will stay with me far longer than any monument.
India is not always easy for female travellers. But on this journey, guided by women and surrounded by them, I felt grounded. I felt held.
