Dipak Kurmi
The evening of January 2018 at Mumbai's DY Patil Stadium will forever be etched in the annals of Indian cricket history. As floodlights illuminated the field and thousands of spectators erupted in celebration, something extraordinary had just occurred. The Indian women's cricket team had qualified for the World Cup final for the third consecutive time, a feat that seemed almost impossible just a few years earlier. The euphoria that night was not merely about a cricket match; it represented the culmination of decades of struggle, perseverance, and an unwavering belief that women deserved their rightful place in a sport that had long marginalized them.
The significance of this victory resonated far beyond the boundary ropes. For generations, Indian women's cricket had existed in the shadows, struggling to gain even basic recognition in a country obsessed with the men's game. The hands that once fought merely for acknowledgment were now holding the biggest prize cricket had to offer. This was not just about sport; it was about breaking centuries-old barriers and challenging deeply entrenched societal norms that had kept women away from the cricket field for far too long.
What made this moment even more remarkable was the presence of Bollywood superstar Shah Rukh Khan at the stadium that night. Khan, who co-owns the Kolkata Knight Riders franchise in the Indian Premier League, had been talking to former Indian women's cricket team captain Mithali Raj earlier that month. In what seemed like a simple observation, Mithali had commented that cricket is not gender-biased, questioning why women cannot receive equal attention if male cricketers deserve all the facilities. While we may never know exactly what Shah Rukh said to her in response, the fact that such conversations were now happening at the highest levels of Indian cricket indicated that change was finally in the air.
The journey to this historic moment had been anything but smooth. Indian women's cricket had spent decades languishing in obscurity, with minimal infrastructure, scarce funding, and virtually no media coverage. While the men's team commanded massive salaries, lucrative endorsements, and nationwide adulation, the women cricketers struggled to make ends meet. Many had to juggle their passion for cricket with regular jobs, practicing in the early mornings or late evenings whenever they could find time. The contrast could not have been starker, and for years, it seemed like nothing would change.
The arrival of this team at the World Cup final represented something far more profound than athletic achievement. It symbolized the imagination of a cricket-crazy country finally expanding to include its daughters. For too long, India had ignored half its population when it came to cricket, dismissing women's participation as somehow less worthy of attention, investment, or celebration. The victory that night in Mumbai was celebrated until four in the morning at the team hotel, with streams of people congratulating the girls continuously. The atmosphere at the stadium and the hotel was electric, charged with the realization that something historic was unfolding.
Cricket journalist and author Sharda Ugra, speaking to The Tribune newspaper, captured the moment's significance perfectly when she said that this victory would trigger an explosion in women's cricket, not just in India but across the world. She reminded everyone that India is already the largest cricketing nation, with both financial and emotional investment in the sport running deeper than perhaps anywhere else on earth. This win would also create a parallel ecosystem in states where women's cricket had not been popular before, she predicted. The hope was that more and more girls would now want to play cricket, and that the Board of Control for Cricket in India would respond by putting more systems and structures in place to provide them with better playing opportunities.
The transformation was already visible in some quarters. Shafali Verma, who would later emerge as one of the brightest talents in Indian women's cricket, was living this dream in real-time. Coming from a humble background in Rohtak, Haryana, she had already begun making waves with her aggressive batting style. Her father, Bhupinder Singh, worked as a carpenter, but he recognized his daughter's talent and supported her dreams despite financial constraints. Shafali was not even part of the original squad initially, but her natural ability and fearless approach to batting would soon make her indispensable to the team. Just two days before the semifinal against Australia, opener Smriti Mandhana got injured, and Shafali was sent as a replacement. She told herself that God must have sent her for something good, and she seized the opportunity with both hands.
The journey had been particularly challenging for captain Harmanpreet Kaur, the 28-year-old from Moga in Punjab. There had been numerous bright spots in her glittering career, but the ultimate prize had always eluded the team until now. She had faced allegations of having a fake degree and criticism for coaching decisions, enduring intense scrutiny that male captains rarely faced with the same intensity. Yet Harmanpreet had persevered, becoming the face of Indian women's cricket and leading India to four World Cups. This was her fifth appearance as captain on cricket's biggest stage.
The regional contribution to this success story cannot be overlooked. Renuka Thakur from Himachal Pradesh represented another dimension of this triumph. Hailing from Parsa village in Rohru, she had overcome immense obstacles to reach this level. Her family had initially opposed her cricket ambitions, and when she was just three years old, her grandfather Kehar Lal and mother Ram Kambli had passed away. But it was her grandmother Renuka who became her pillar of support and inspiration. The young cricketer who was once dropped from the squad after suffering a heart attack-related health scare returned stronger, celebrating her exploits with those who had believed in her journey.
Harleen Deol, who once had to request Punjab's Chief Minister to help her practice at the Mohali stadium, represented yet another important part of this evolving narrative. She came from a middle-class background and had grown up alongside Mohali girl Amarjot Kaur, who once tried her luck playing for Chandigarh. These cricketers had experienced enough disappointment to know the transformative power of victory. When Harleen stole the limelight off the ground during a meeting with Prime Minister Narendra Modi in Delhi, the PM asked her a question that perhaps captured the nation's newfound appreciation: "What is your skincare routine, because there's such a glow on your face?" The easy laughter that followed showed a confident bunch of women entirely at ease with their achievements, happy in each other's company and secure in their abilities.
Coming from humble backgrounds where cricket was often seen as a male preserve, Harmanpreet and Amarjot had started playing as young boys taught them lessons they could not initially apply themselves. Amarjot's father Bhupinder Singh, the carpenter, remembered how his daughter used to design her own practice routines, saying she would also play with branded bats one day. That day had arrived, and it brought vindication for all those who had believed in these young women when few others did.
The broader implications of this success extended far beyond individual achievements. Ugra emphasized that a domestic and junior structure similar to what exists for men's cricket was desperately needed for young female cricketers. She believed it would be a significant boost for the Women's Premier League, one of the top female cricketing events globally in terms of financial strength. More importantly, it would attract more people willing to invest money, bringing a host of advantages that had long been denied to women cricketers.
Yet even as celebrations continued and accolades poured in, many wondered if this momentous occasion would translate into lasting systemic change. The debate about "step-motherly" treatment of women cricketers compared to their male counterparts had gone on too long. While the spotlight was finally shining on these remarkable athletes, the real test would be whether Indian cricket's administrative and financial structures would evolve to provide women with the same opportunities, facilities, and recognition that men had always enjoyed.
The moment when women's cricket came under the umbrella of the Board of Control for Cricket in India marked a turning point. The ICC had forced the BCCI to implement this change, and it was funded and supported by fellow women cricketers—something that was genuinely amazing, as Ugra noted. It would take time for female players to receive parity and acknowledgment on par with their male counterparts, but the process had finally begun. This could only happen if cricket made use of moments like these, added former India women's team coach Shubha Manchanda, who trained young girls in Ludhiana.
As India prepared for yet another World Cup campaign, the legacy of that Mumbai night and subsequent achievements continued to inspire millions. The journey from obscurity to prominence had been long and arduous, filled with setbacks and disappointments. But through sheer determination, exceptional talent, and an unshakeable belief in their abilities, these women had not just earned their place in Indian cricket—they had transformed it forever. Their story was no longer just about cricket; it had become a powerful narrative about courage, perseverance, and the indomitable spirit of Indian women breaking barriers in every field they entered. The question that Mithali Raj posed to Shah Rukh Khan—about why women cannot receive equal attention—was finally beginning to find its answer on cricket fields across the nation.
(The writer can be reached at dipakkurmiglpltd@gmail.com)
