The rise of women’s cricket in India reflects a broader social transformation, with young girls across cities and small towns challenging long-held gender norms through the game.
Indian women cricketers have evolved from being overlooked to becoming global sporting figures, achieving success through resilience and defiance of patriarchal expectations.
By pursuing professional careers despite social, financial and structural barriers, these athletes are reshaping mindsets and empowering the next generation of girls to dream without limits.
On summer evenings across India, the sound of a cricket ball striking a bat no longer belongs only to boys in dusty maidans. It echoes from narrow lanes, school grounds, and modest academies where young girls, pads strapped tight and dreams strapped tighter, are quietly rewriting the story of Indian sport. The rise of women cricketers in India is not just a sporting phenomenon, it is a social shift, unfolding one boundary at a time.
Over the past decade, Indian women cricketers have transformed from overlooked participants in a male-dominated game into global sporting icons. Their faces now grace billboards, endorsement campaigns and prime-time broadcasts, but the journey to visibility has been anything but glamorous. Behind the medals, match fees and match-winning knocks lie deeply personal stories of resistance, resilience and resolve, stories shaped by patriarchal expectations that often asked them to choose “security” over sport.
For many of these athletes, especially those from Tier II and Tier III towns, cricket was never seen as a career, certainly not for girls. It was a pastime to be abandoned once adolescence gave way to responsible adulthood. Families worried about social perception, financial uncertainty and marriage prospects. Access to infrastructure was patchy, coaching scarce, and role models even scarcer. Yet, against these odds, young women persisted, training at dawn, travelling miles for practice, and negotiating permission for every match they played.
What makes their rise remarkable is not just their talent, but the courage it took to dream professionally in spaces that were never designed for them. Every selection call carried the weight of expectations back home; every tour meant challenging the idea that ambition in women must be modest and temporary. Cricket became both an act of passion and protest.
Most of the games in the ongoing Women’s Premier League (WPL) are thrillers going down to the wire. Big venues like the D Y Patil stadium in Navi Mumbai are bursting with fans. Chants of Smriti, Smriti run through Chinnaswamy Stadium in Bangalore when the RCBW captain Smriti Mandhana comes out to bat, like it used to when Virat Kohli was at his peak. Fans, analysts and commentators pore over statistics of Harmanpreet Kaur, Jemimah Rodrigues and Deepti Sharma. The quality of women’s cricket—towering sixes, tearaway pace, wily spin, fantastic catches and gravity-defying fielding—has undergone a complete transformation. The money in WPL is said to be more than many country’s men T20 leagues. These young women have come from far and wide, from metros and small towns, fighting patriarchy, societal pressure, poor infrastructure to attain cricketing glory.
Today, their journeys inspire a new generation of girls to pick up the bat without apology.
In doing so, Indian women cricketers are not only changing scorecards, they are changing mindsets, proving that the boundary between tradition and ambition is meant to be crossed.
Outlook’s next edition, No More A Gentlemen’s Game, explores their journeys, humble beginnings, not so easy opportunities and chances while growing with the game and their future outlook towards achieving success.
Karunya Keshav traced the evolution of women’s cricket in India, capturing how the game has moved from the margins to the mainstream, shaped by landmark performances, growing visibility, and the quiet persistence of players who refused to be sidelined.
Mrinalini Dhyani turned the spotlight on Kashvee Gautam, chronicling her rise through domestic cricket and the grit that carried her through injuries and setbacks.
Ishfaq Naseem profiled Jasia Akhtar, weaving a narrative around her determination to carve out space in a competitive system while balancing personal and professional pressures.
Jinit Parmar explored Pratiksha Pawar’s journey, highlighting her discipline, consistency, and the everyday sacrifices behind her performances.
Pritha Vashisht documented Mona Meshram’s long, often under-acknowledged career, reflecting on leadership, longevity, and resilience in Indian women’s cricket.
Sandipan Chaterjee presented a compelling photo feature from Siliguri, using visuals to tell stories of aspiration, struggle, and community support that shape women cricketers in the region.
NK Bhoopesh reported from Wayanad, focusing on tribal women cricketers whose journeys reveal the intersection of sport, identity, and social mobility.
Mrinalini Dhyani captured the story of Mumal Meher from Barmer, detailing how she navigated conservative social norms to pursue cricket against formidable odds.
Mohammad Asghar brought together six profiles under “Village Stars,” showcasing raw talent emerging from rural India and the fragile ecosystems that sustain their dreams.
Lalita Iyer chronicled Doorva Bahuguna’s path, examining the personal battles and quiet breakthroughs that define her cricketing life.
Agnideb Bandyopadhyay visited a cricket academy at a century-old sports club in West Bengal’s Chinsurah, mapping how grassroots coaching and collective belief are shaping future women cricketers.
Fozia Yasin shed light on the extraordinary journey of a blind woman cricketer, portraying how she redefined ability and ambition, challenging both sporting and social perceptions through sheer resolve.
