Every time I make my yearly trip back home, I return with a suitcase full of clothes, food, gifts, conversations, and lots to say. The conversations are the kind that happen over chai, during long car rides, or late-night talks that stretch way past midnight. This time, almost every discussion somehow found its way to cricket.
Cricket in India is one of those things you don’t really “follow”; you feel it. You don't even realise how deep it runs until you’re surrounded by family passionately debating batting orders, planning the whole day to make space to watch a match together, and reliving matches from decades ago.
But something felt different this time. For the first time, the excitement wasn’t only about the men’s team. Everyone, my family, cousins, and friends, was talking about women’s cricket with the same passion and the same intensity.
This blog is a personal reflection on me trying to make sense of this huge shift, i.e., why cricket grips India the way it does and how the women’s game has (finally) become part of that emotion.
Part of cricket’s craze in India comes from something very simple – accessibility. You don’t need a fancy ground, expensive equipment, or coaching. A hand becomes a bat, a paper ball becomes a cricket ball, and the street becomes a stadium. For a country where the majority of people don’t have deep pockets, cricket has always been the sport that anyone could play.
And then there’s the emotional side. India has always related to and embraced an underdog story. From the days when we were considered “easy to beat” by England and Australia, every small victory felt like a revolution. By the time India won the 1983 World Cup under Kapil Dev, cricket wasn’t just a sport anymore; it had become a symbol of pride, possibility, and belief. That underdog victory lit a fire that has not gone out since.
Over time, TV changed things too. My parents talk about Doordarshan days, when there was only one channel, and watching a Test match meant going to a neighbour’s house or a club. It wasn’t even about the game; it was an event, almost like a community picnic.
Then came one-day cricket, and then T20. Shorter games, quicker results, and the perfect fit for a country that loves emotion, drama, and instant gratification.
And of course, the Indian Premier League (IPL) changed everything. With sponsors, money, and fame, Cricket became a full-time dream for millions!
If men’s cricket took off in the 1980s, women’s cricket began its real journey almost 20 years later.
For decades, it received almost no visibility, no sponsorships, and very little support. Until 2006, women’s cricket wasn’t even under the BCCI. And even after that, things moved slowly. Most of the players came from small towns, with stories full of struggle, walking kilometres to reach a boys’ only academy, fighting societal expectations, and trying to justify a dream that no one around them had ever dreamt before.
Then came 2017 i.e. the Women’s World Cup final. India didn’t win, but something changed.
People finally paid attention, sponsors came in, parents became more supportive, players became recognisable, and young girls saw role models who looked like them.
But the real turning point has come in the last three years. A world title on home soil, the launch of the Women’s IPL, and the board announcing pay parity. These weren’t just milestones; they were signals that women’s cricket had finally arrived. With that, names like Harmanpreet Kaur, Smriti Mandhana, and Jemimah Rodrigues began to enter everyday conversations and become genuine household names.
And the past year especially has felt almost historic. People aren’t showing up just to “support” anymore; they’re invested. They know the players, follow their journeys, celebrate their highs, and feel their heartbreaks. As Harmanpreet Kaur said so powerfully, “Cricket is not a men’s game; it’s everyone’s game.” For the first time, it truly feels like the entire country believes that.
This is India’s 1983 moment for women’s cricket — just 40 years later.
Many women in the current squad have risen from tough circumstances and turned those challenges into strength. My favourite example is Renuka Thakur, who trained in an all-boys academy, walked miles every day to chase her dream, and whose father was reinstated in his police job only after India’s recent world title. Stories like hers are why women’s cricket today is more than a sport, it’s a social breakthrough.
Cricket is an emotion in India because it reflects us, our struggles, our hopes, our frustrations, our need for heroes, our obsession with winning, and even our identity.
A victory can lift up millions of people on a random weekday. A loss can feel like a national tragedy. Cricketers here carry the aspirations of an entire country.
And now, women cricketers are proudly carrying that weight too. The fact that young girls today can dream of playing professionally, making money, being celebrities, and representing India… that is massive.
It’s also personal. We don't just watch cricket; we connect with it. I still think of Virat Kohli breaking Sachin Tendulkar’s record and Royal Challengers Bengaluru, aka RCB finally winning after 18 years as a moment of pure perseverance, grit, and the kind of emotion that teaches you something about life itself.
That’s what cricket does for us. Men’s or women’s, it gives us joy, hope, and the feeling that no matter where you come from, your story can change everything!
