Spice Girls: The Cricket Revolution In Kerala's Tribal Heartland

“Till two years ago, I worked wherever work was found—sometimes in the fields, sometimes at construction sites. Now my daughter scolds us if we even talk about stepping out into the sun for work. Life has changed so completely that I still cannot understand it. How did we reach a place where we no longer have to go out every day in search of work?”

The astonishment had not left Vasantha Mani’s face. She spoke as if the change were still unfolding before her eyes—how a game had bent the course of their lives for the better, carrying her daughter beyond the boundaries of their village, to places no one there had once thought possible.

When we reached her house in Chooyimoola, in Wayanad, Vasantha had just finished speaking to Minnu Mani—the tribal girl who has since become one of the most visible faces of Indian women’s cricket. When we visited the village, Minnu was far away in Vadodara, playing in the Women’s Premier League for the Delhi Capitals.

“From a very young age, she played with the boys. I scolded her many times for that,” she said. “At school, she tried her hand at many games, but then we didn’t even know what cricket was. Whatever little we knew, we believed it was meant for boys. We never wanted Minnu to play cricket.”

Everything shifted in the eighth standard. “Elsamma teacher called to say that Minnu had got admission into a cricket academy in Thodupuzha, in Idukki. Only then did we realise that she was already playing the game,” she recalls.

The news only deepened Vasantha’s confusion. Relatives and extended family opposed the idea of sending a young girl far away to play what they called a boy’s game. But Elsamma teacher’s words gave her courage, and Minnu was firm in her resolve. Vasantha finally agreed. “That decision changed her, changed us, changed this whole area,” she said.

A quiet sense of fulfilment crossed Vasantha’s face as she spoke of her daughter. “The house is being renovated now,” she added softly. “Everything you see is done with the money she sends. We owe this to Elsamma teacher.”

Wayanad, a remote hill district bordering Tamil Nadu and Karnataka, is home to one of the largest tribal populations in Kerala. Its reputation for lush landscapes and tourism masks a more stubborn truth—of lagging development indices and limited opportunity.

With little to suggest it could ever become a cricketing centre, the district has nonetheless emerged as an unlikely cradle of women’s cricket. Several players from here have already gone on to represent India. Behind this transformation of a remote region into a hub of women cricketers stands the quiet, visionary intervention of a physical education teacher, Elsamma teacher.

With little to suggest it could ever become a cricketing centre, the district has nonetheless emerged as an unlikely cradle of women’s cricket. Several players from here have already gone on to represent India. Behind this transformation of a remote region into a hub of women cricketers stands the quiet, visionary intervention of a physical education teacher, Elsamma teacher.

K.M. Elsamma was a physical education teacher at a government school in Mananthavady, in Wayanad district. She urged students who showed promise in sports to take up cricket and football, believing that success on the field could open other paths in life.

“I decided to start a women’s cricket team because my own daughter did well in the game,” she said. That was the time when Wayanad did not have a district team. Though my daughter played at the university level, she was denied selection because she did not represent a district.”

That was disappointing for the teacher, but that setback prompted her to try to build a team for the district.

“I grew up in a village in Kozhikode. In my student days, there was no cricket around us. I learned the game only later, while studying for my diploma in physical education.”

It was after she began working as a physical education teacher that her interest in cricket deepened. “I had a strong feeling,” she said, “that students from the tribal communities could be trained into good players.”

Anumol, who later represented Kerala, is now a certified coach with the women’s cricket team. Along with her mother, she has helped shape the journeys of many players—including Minnu Mani and Sajna—guiding them, patiently, into the craft of the game.

“With the support of the District Cricket Association, I began identifying students who I felt had the physical strength needed for cricket.”

The effort took root at Arattuthara School, where nearly 70 per cent of the students came from the tribal community.

“Middle-class parents were unwilling to send their daughters into sports, fearing that the sun would darken their skin,” Elsamma said. “Families from the tribal community did not carry those anxieties. Even so, they were hesitant when it came to cricket, but I persuaded them to take it up, because I knew for sure that if they succeeded, it would change their lives.”

“We built a team, but in the beginning, we kept losing to the other side,” Elsamma recalled.

It was in 2008-09, after the BCCI formally recognised women’s cricket, that the Kerala Cricket Association began organising women’s tournaments. For the first time, women cricketers were offered match fees and prize money. “Rs 150 was paid to players selected at the district level. That made a difference. It drew girls towards the game,” Elsamma said.

“My girl has travelled from earning Rs 150 to becoming a player auctioned for Rs 60 lakh,” Vasantha said, looking back at the short but arduous journey her family had made. It was an incredible feat for her to become a player in a remote district, especially coming from a marginalised community.

Sharada Sajeevan, the mother of another international cricketer from Wayanad, speaks of long endurance—standing up to patriarchy to help her daughter become one of the most important players of the present generation.

“Despite being active in public life, I faced enormous pressure from friends and family for allowing my daughter to pursue sport,” said Sharada Sajeevan, mother of Sajna, who now plays in the Women’s Premier League for the Mumbai Indians. Sajna had excelled across disciplines—captain of the district football team, a track-and-field champion in her teens.

Sharada, a CPI(M) activist and former panchayat member of Mananthavady for a decade, traced her daughter’s journey with care. “She studied in a tribal school till the tenth standard and was active in sports and karate. Later, she excelled in kho-kho. But the real turning point came when Elsamma teacher pushed her towards cricket.”

Guidance from her teachers and Sajna’s own perseverance helped her earn a place in the Kerala team. By then, she was being paid Rs 150 per match.

“That itself felt like a big achievement for us,” Sharada said.

Her eyes swelled as she spoke of the resistance they faced—the unease around letting a grown girl travel alone, stay in unfamiliar places, and choose her own path. Sajna’s selection to the Kerala team eventually opened the door to the Women’s Premier League.

Sharada, who once knew nothing about cricket, now speaks easily of its nuances. “I still remember the day she played her first WPL match for the Mumbai Indians,” she said. Delhi were the opponents. Five runs were needed off the last ball. I closed my eyes.”

The roar that followed told her everything. Sajna had sent the ball sailing over the boundary—a six that sealed the match, and announced her arrival.

It was after that moment that Sajna was picked for the Indian squad.

“Now we get gifts during festive seasons from Nita Ambani,” said Sharada, unable to conceal her excitement.

Wayanad has already produced three international women cricketers, with more waiting on the threshold. Joshitha V.J., part of the Indian under-19 women’s team that won the World Cup, is among them. She, too, is a product of the Wayanad Cricket Academy, where the training she received sharpened her game and prepared her for the demands of the world stage.

Today, the district counts seven women cricketers at the state level.

“This achievement is the result of relentless work by the association and the commitment of a teacher who brought cricket to an unfamiliar land,” a local official said, adding that she encouraged children from the most deprived backgrounds to play the game.

Women’s cricket was brought under the BCCI in 2006, altering long-held perceptions of the sport. By 2008, the Kerala Cricket Association had opened women’s cricket academies at three centres—Thodupuzha in Idukki, Mannanam in Kottayam, and Sulthan Bathery in Wayanad—under its Mission 2020 programme.

“We provide all the facilities needed for emerging players,” said Nazir Machan, secretary of the Wayanad Cricket Association. “After a selection process, students are inducted into residential camps, where the infrastructure is in place to train young talent.”

The Wayanad Academy now houses forty student players.

“The potential of these girls became evident once we began identifying talent early, after women’s cricket received BCCI approval,” Nazir added.

At least seven women from Wayanad currently represent Kerala at the state level, with many more waiting for their chance—proof that what was once an alien game has taken deep root in the hills.

In the once nondescript villages of Wayanad, cricket is no longer just a sport. It has become a way to dream—to rise above the limits of geography, poverty, and custom. Minnu Mani, Sajna Sajeevan, Joshitha and others have shown what is possible.

As more and more children from the most deprived sections pick up the bat and ball, a quiet sense of fulfilment settles over Elsamma teacher. Yet she is not content with what has already been achieved.

Ten years after her retirement, Elsamma still trains students on a nearby ground. The unsung architect of Indian women’s cricket remains at work—uncelebrated, tireless, and unwilling to stop.

N.K. Bhoopesh is an assistant editor, reporting on South India with a focus on politics, developmental challenges, and stories rooted in social justice.

This article appeared as 'Spice Girls' in the Magazine issue No More A Gentleman's Game dated February 11, 2026 which explores the rise of women's cricket in India, and the stories of numerous women who defeated all odds to make a mark in what has always been a man's ballgame.