Elite Bench, Marginalised Talent: Casteism In Indian Cricket

In Indian cricket, talent is celebrated, but silence is institutional. In a sport where mythology is built around personal excellence and rags-to-riches narratives, the conversation about caste remains almost completely absent. It’s not that caste isn’t present in cricket—it’s that it is carefully and strategically ignored. Vinod Kambli, a Dalit cricketer, once came close to opening up the conversation, but retreated—his silence wasn’t personal, but systemic. He did not fall silent on comparisons with Sachin Tendulkar, but on the question of caste altogether.

Compare this to what happened to Vandana Katariya, who scored a historic hat-trick in women’s hockey at the Tokyo Olympics in 2021. She was the first Indian woman to do so. But shortly after, elite-caste men in her locality burst firecrackers when India lost, (allegedly) taunting her family for “too many Dalit players” on the team. Vandana later said the regret of not winning an Olympic medal that year would stay with her. So, perhaps, would the abuse her family endured.

Caste, then, is spoken of in sport only when it erupts in violence. In cricket, it’s even worse—because here, silence is a mechanism to exclude. Of the nearly 315 players now in Indian test cricket, only four are Dalits. In the first 85 years of Indian test cricket, from 1932 to 2017, there were 289 players, and still only four were Dalits. This reflects persistent structural barriers, point out Gaurav Bhawnani and Shubham Jain in a 2018 article, “Does India Need a Caste-based Quota in Cricket”, published in Economic and Political Weekly (EPW).

Cricket in India is not run by a state institution, but by the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI), an immensely wealthy, autonomous but politically-linked body. Unlike other areas of public life, there are no reservations, no quotas, no mandated representation guarantees for marginalised communities. And yet, cricket is treated as a national pastime and a public good—broadcast on public television, partially supported by government grants of land to stadiums, it is also highly celebrated in state and national awards.

This contradiction is not lost on Dalit activists and politicians. Udit Raj, former Member of Parliament, has often raised the issue of caste discrimination in cricket. “Many come to me and seek help to get selected,” says the Congress party leader. “They say they play very well, but don’t end up getting selected due to their caste identity.” According to him, the selection process in cricket is not just opaque—it is shaped by privilege. “If India has such a vast population—just my constituency has a population rivalling New Zealand’s population—why don’t we see a more diverse team?”

It’s a powerful question: in a country so large, with such immense sporting potential, why does cricket look so socially homogeneous?

Part of the answer lies in money. As IIT Bombay PhD scholar Rushikesh Gawade argues in his 2024 EPW article, “Cricket, Technology and the Power of Money”, with the rise of money power in cricket, a sport nurtured by government departments and public sector undertakings has fundamentally changed. “Money now can fulfil the function of providing a necessary bond for cricketers to play for the same team. Further, money can now function as the glue that binds a spectator with a sport—arguably stronger than the earlier binding in terms of solely emotional and intellectual gratification,” he writes.

“And it’s undeniable that the more lucrative a profession becomes, the more exclusionary it also becomes in caste terms,” says Udit Raj.

Reservation In Cricket

This is not how it has to be. In South Africa, the policy of transformation targets was adopted in cricket to correct entrenched racial imbalances. At least six of the 11 national team players were required to be persons of colour, including two black Africans. Similarly, slightly higher targets existed at provincial levels. These were not easy measures—but they acknowledged that talent alone does not overcome history. Structures must be designed to enable inclusion, not merely reflect it.

Ramdas Athawale, president of the Republican Party of India (RPI), has supported the idea of reservation for Scheduled Castes (SCs) and Scheduled Tribes (STs) in sports, including cricket. But that’s a rare voice. Even among Dalit players, who make it to the top, there’s a reluctance to openly identify with their caste—perhaps because to do so is to risk career suicide in a sport that rewards marketability over truth. Bhawnani and Jain take this argument further. The authors note how corporate control has made systemic barriers “not easily isolable”, and thus recommend that judicial intervention may be necessary. After all, if the BCCI—the richest sporting body—remains unaccountable, who else will act?

Players traditionally had to either be part of the Ranji circuit or secure corporate sponsorships, often from public sector companies like Indian Railways. However, these companies expect educational qualifications to ensure the employability of their sportspersons, which creates additional hurdles for SCs and STs. What’s more, Jain reveals, there is significant patronage and community networking involved in selection and advancement in cricket.

Fieldwork conducted by him reveals that nepotism, money power and social connections operate at multiple levels of cricket, from school teams to elite coaching. It has drawn him to conclude that talent alone is insufficient; players often need caste support or connections to access training and opportunities for promotion.

The Privilege Gap

Exceptional talents like Yashasvi Jaiswal, a left-handed batsman, managed to break through these barriers due to their undeniable skill, but for most players, minor differences in ability are overshadowed by the influence of social networks. Additionally, the intense training and investment required favour batters from more privileged backgrounds, while less privileged players are more often bowlers. This is reflected in the fact that three of India’s four Dalit test players have been bowling all-rounders, as Bhawnani and Jain’s paper points out.

Regarding solutions, Jain stresses the importance of acknowledging the problem at both national and micro levels and says the discussion must begin with a comprehensive study on diversity within the sport, noting that the lack of data remains a major obstacle to understand the situation.

The Indian Premier League (IPL) has brought significant change by widening the talent pool and creating new economic opportunities beyond playing, such as support staff roles in nutrition and psychology. It has also allowed some individuals from marginalised backgrounds, like Chetan Sakariya, to rise. “However, the increased financial stakes have also intensified the influence of social, political and economic capital within cricket,” reminds Jain.

While more players from less privileged castes are now present in the sport, the challenges of navigating the complex interplay of privilege, power and talent remain high. The lack of data is one among the numerous challenges that comes in the way of ensuring diversity in the game.

“When we can notice systemic bias due to caste in all other walks of life, why must we turn a blind eye to it in sport, especially cricket? A truly great cricketing nation doesn’t just select the best. It ensures that everyone has an equal chance to become the best,” says Satish Prakash, a Dalit rights activist.

At its heart, the issue is not just about quotas, but also about fostering true diversity. It is fundamentally about fairness, meaningful representation, and long-overdue recognition for those who have been historically excluded from the game and its opportunities.

Pragya Singh is senior assistant editor, Outlook. She is based in Delhi

This article appears in Outlook Magazine’s June 21, 2025 issue, Innings/Outings, which captures a turning point in Indian cricket —from retiring legends to small-town stars reshaping the game’s power map. It appeared in print as 'Elite Bench'.