The floodlights of Navi Mumbai's DY Patil Stadium, usually reserved for blockbuster men's tournaments, witnessed a spectacle on Sunday night that transcended sport. It was a cultural and historical affirmation, delivered with the sharp crack of a bat and the unerring accuracy of a yorker.
As the final wicket fell at midnight to a memorable running catch by the captain - an eerie flashback to 1983 at Lord's - and India clinched the Women's Cricket World Cup, the ensuing explosion of fireworks across the nation was a moment of catharsis, a collective exhale after decades of struggle. With over 50,000 ecstatic spectators crowded into the venue, this victory was not merely a trophy; it was the decisive moment that women's cricket in India had fought for, and it has the weight and resonance of a true turning point, perhaps (as so many have called it) its “1983 moment”.
'I Wouldn't Allow Your Team To Play'
For too long, the narrative of Indian women's cricket has been defined not by its achievements, but by the systemic obstacles placed in its path. The team's journey to this final was a microcosm of this harsh reality. When they faltered in their progress through the group stages of the tournament with three successive close defeats, reports surfaced of sharp and cruel accusations that the players were squandering the funds and facilities provided by the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI) - that they didn't deserve the institutional support they were getting.
This criticism, levelled at athletes competing at the pinnacle of their sport, underscores a deep-seated male scepticism - a patriarchal perception that women's cricket was an exotic burden rather than a source of national pride and revenue. This attitude has existed in the shadows of institutional memory, exemplified by an incident involving the first day in office of an incoming BCCI president in 2011. According to accounts of that meeting, the then-president, N. Srinivasan, allegedly told a former Indian captain in no uncertain terms, “If I had my way, I wouldn't allow your women's team to play cricket.”
This statement, stark and chilling, captures the decades of official indifference and sometimes outright hostility the women's game faced. It suggests a fight for existence before a fight for excellence. That the team not only survived but thrived to reach global dominance despite this foundational lack of faith is a testament to the resilience of generations of players.
The Story Of Kaur - And All The Others
The struggle for recognition was, and remains, intensely personal for the players themselves. Captain Harmanpreet Kaur, the woman who now holds the golden trophy aloft as a national icon, provides a poignant example. When seeking police employment under the sports quota, a pathway designed to support elite athletes, Kaur was reportedly unable to secure a job. Her athletic prowess - already world-class - was somehow deemed insufficient or unworthy of the basic security that her male counterparts took for granted. These individual battles, the lack of jobs, the stingy facilities, and the constant need to prove their worth, are the hidden costs of this victory.
Yet, as the game evolves, it is shedding the shackles of elite metropolitan privilege. The success on Sunday is a celebration of the game's dramatic democratisation. Cricket is no longer solely the domain of established urban centres and English-medium backgrounds. The rise of players from every corner of India paints a far more compelling picture of the sport's true national reach. This victory belongs just as much to the emerging hinterlands as it does to the cities: the winning team's birthplaces include Moga, Ghuwara, Kadapa, Sangli, Rohru, Siliguri and Golaghat. The inclusion of Kanti Goud, a fast bowler hailing from a tribal background, perfectly illustrates this seismic shift. Her presence on the world stage proves that talent, driven by passion and grit, can now pierce through socio-economic and geographical barriers that were once impenetrable.
2017 Was Just A Precursor
The spark that ignited this fire of public interest was arguably the 2017 World Cup final run. Though India ultimately lost that title match, the team's electrifying performance in England captured the nation's imagination. It was the moment the country realised the sheer potential and excitement inherent in the women's game. The 2017 campaign was the necessary precursor, establishing an audience base and injecting faith. The 2025 World Cup final was the payoff.
But success is built on more than just institutional support; it is built on human effort. The story of women's cricket in India is one of dogged persistence - the grit of young women who chose the difficult path and the unwavering support of their families. In the face of public indifference and a chronic lack of official financial support, it was the parents and siblings who bore the brunt of the expense, the training logistics, and the social judgment. They invested their meagre resources and their belief when the system wouldn't. The victory on Sunday belongs, in part, to those countless families who championed their daughters' dreams against the odds.
People Are Noticing, Finally
Crucially, this rising tide of public and familial support was matched by a critical shift in the media landscape. The rising interest of television channels to broadcast the women's game, offering high-quality production and dedicated airtime, was the final piece of the puzzle. Visibility fuels sponsorship, inspires the next generation, and, most importantly, justifies the investment. The massive crowd of 50,000 in Navi Mumbai was a direct result of that enhanced visibility and the compelling, high-stakes drama that the cameras captured.
No More The Sole Girl Among Boys
The Indian women's cricket team's triumphant World Cup victory is set to catalyse a profound shift in the country's cricketing landscape, particularly for aspiring female players. This success ensures that future generations of cricket-loving girls will grow up with admired, visible role models to emulate on the global stage. The era when young girls had to overcome significant barriers, such as playing solely with boys to get a game, should now be definitively over. As Indian batter Jemimah Rodrigues reflected on her childhood, where she was "the only girl among 500 boys", the sheer number of competitive opportunities and training facilities available today marks a radical change. The growth of professional options, exemplified by the domestic Women's Premier League (WPL) in India, alongside global leagues like The Hundred in the UK and Australia's Women's Big Bash League, provides clear, viable career pathways. With this confluence of on-field glory and robust professional infrastructure, the future growth of women's cricket in India now seems assured.
The late-night fireworks, the crowded stadiums, the global recognition - it all signifies more than a cyclical sporting achievement. This victory is not an end, but a powerful beginning. The Indian men's team's 1983 World Cup victory was a singular moment that fundamentally altered the economic and cultural destiny of Indian cricket, transforming it into the global powerhouse it is today. Women's cricket, having fought for decades against internal resistance and external indifference, now stands at a similar inflection point.
This Isn't An Anomaly
The Women's Premier League (WPL) has established a robust financial foundation, the team has achieved the ultimate global success, and a new generation of girls sees a clear, well-lit path to sporting glory. The historical injustices and institutional apathy have been answered with a World Cup trophy. This victory must not be treated as an anomaly. It should be recognised as the dawn of a new era. The trophy is home, and the Indian women's game has irrevocably changed. The day will come when this moment is recognised as the watershed when Indian women's cricket began its own path towards a half-century of global cricketing dominance.
(Shashi Tharoor has been a Member of Parliament from Thiruvananthapuram, Kerala, since 2009. He is a published author and a former diplomat)
Disclaimer: These are the personal opinions of the author
