In Jaisalmer, mornings begin long before the sun settles over the sandstone. By the time the city awakens, 24-year-old Veenu Kawar has already swept the courtyard of her home, finished cooking, readied her elder son for school and checked her younger son, who is fast asleep.

The rhythm of her day, at first glance, is no different from that of the women around her. Household work comes first. Responsibilities do not pause.

"My mother-in-law tells me to go do my work. She manages the house," Veenu says. It is a small sentence. In this part of Rajasthan, it carries weight.

By mid-morning, she steps out and heads to Chundi village, where around twenty women are already waiting. A year ago, she was one of them — sitting, learning, stepping out for something that felt unfamiliar. Before that, even this step did not exist.

"Before this, I didn't do anything. I was a housewife and had no particular interests," she says.

The distance between those two versions of her life is not measured in kilometres. It is measured and intertwined with the story of many other women such as Veenu, who live in the depths of a literal desert.

What lies beyond the city of gold

Jaisalmer, known as the Golden City, draws visitors from across the world. Its 12th-century sandstone fort rises dramatically from the desert floor. Its havelis are carved with the kind of precision that makes them look spun rather than built. 

Every October through March, the city fills with destination wedding parties, luxury desert camps, and tourists chasing the particular magic of the Thar. India's destination wedding market, with Jaisalmer among its most sought-after backdrops, is now valued at over Rs 16 billion.

But just forty-five kilometres from the city, the desert, which spans 200,000 sq.km, looks very different.

Villages are scattered across the Thar, sometimes only five or six families within a kilometre of each other. 

Access to education, healthcare, and livelihood remains limited in these remote pockets. Schools in many villages go only up to Class 8. For anything further, a girl would have to travel outside, something families here rarely permit.

The purdah system, which has shaped life across Rajasthan's villages since the 15th century, is not a relic here, but a daily reality. 

Rajasthan falls squarely within what researchers identify as India's "purdah zone," where female seclusion, covering, and mobility restrictions remain deeply embedded in community life. The ghoonghat is not occasional — it defines movement, visibility, and voice.

“A typical woman's day in these villages follows a pattern so fixed it has almost become invisible: wake up, milk the cattle, cook, collect firewood, cook again, milk the cattle once more in the evening. There is constant work but no income or moment that belongs only to her,” says Kritigya Champawat.

This is the world that Kritigya drove into after her marriage. And this is the world she decided to change.

Seeing beyond the sand dunes

Kritigya is an engineer, previously placed in........

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