In the warm, fuzzy afterglow of India Women's World Cup win, I have found myself thinking of Vinesh Phogat.
For two days last year, she made us learn all about the cruelty and finality of the weigh-in rules in Olympic wrestling. How athletes artificially lose weight through extreme dehydration before the weigh-in, then load up to regain strength for the bout, and then lose it again before the weigh-in for the next round. If they miss their target weight at any point - even by 100 grams, as Phogat did after making the final, along the way ending Yui Susaki's 82-match winning streak - they are disqualified. Over those two days we learnt all about the appeals process. We went from the ecstasy of a rare Olympic medal for India to denial to conspiracy theories to finally accepting the heartbreak.
Less than a year later, Phogat is a forgotten sportsperson. She won a legislative assembly election in Haryana, but who remembers her outside her constituency? And it didn't take long for the country to go from championing women's sport to tainting Phogat's participation in MeToo protests against the Indian wrestling federation boss of the time.
The women's cricket team seemed headed for a similar fate when they failed to close out their league match against England from a dominant position. Some influential reporters and popular social media influencers led what can only be called a nasty tweetstorm against these women, who were losing seemingly despite everything Jay Shah had done for them.
This was the wrath of the proverbial uncles, a term not limited to a certain gender or age group. Uncles, as described by filmmaker Dibakar Banerjee, who often portrays them as antagonists, can be identified by their apathy, love for dictator-style leaders, and veiled bigotry. These uncles will stand for so-called pay parity for women sportspersons only if the women win. They will post against female infanticide only when women win medals. They will support only the perfect victim, not one who overshoots by 100 grams despite nearly killing herself to make the desired weight.
The night India lost to England and their qualification for the semi-final became reliant on beating New Zealand, these patriarchs began to warm up. They wanted the women cut to size.
This abuse of the women's cricket team roused a larger audience into supporting them, in addition to their already large, organically built support base. The Bucket Hat Cult, for example, follow the women's team, are acknowledged by the players, and are not a commercial tour organiser of the sort that fan armies generally tend to turn into.
The women respond with more than lip service to anyone who cares. They have gone to a hospital to check on a journalist who covered them and was fighting terminal illness. They have written a rap song for their captain's 100th match. They make silly reels. Their social media is full of photos and videos of their pets. They go crazy over an opponent's baby. They are more like you and me than arguably any other sportsperson we have followed. Just with the extra ability and drive to be high-performance athletes. Following them and cheering them on gave an outlet to fans who perhaps felt outnumbered in the saturated land of men's cricket, where it is not possible for players to share any more than they do.
All of a sudden, though, the women were representing not just the diehard hipsters who have kept the flame burning, but everyone in the country who has been cut to size by patriarchy. Every woman whose father will spend millions on her wedding lehenga but not on her higher education. Every girl who has seen her brother get away with much more than she can. Every woman who is taunted for choosing to not marry. Even men whose dreams have been considered too big; patriarchy might be practised by men but it affects both sexes. Every father who, like Amanjot Kaur's carpenter dad, faces ridicule for supporting his daughter's dream. Everybody who has been told they are a failure "despite being given everything".
Imagine the outrage if India hadn't beaten Australia in the semi-final. Or worse still, not made it to the semi-final. Imagine the price they would have to pay for everything "given" to them. A tournament organised as an apology, away from premier venues, announced so late it became near impossible for travelling fans to attend. A misleading term, "pay parity", that extended only to match fees, which are a minuscule part of what players earn. A stable coaching and selecting unit.
To be fair to the BCCI under Jay Shah (and Sourav Ganguly, who pushed for better retainers and the WPL as BCCI president), it has taken steps to help women's cricket grow. The WPL has perhaps improved players' temperament, but India was still the third country, behind Australia and England, to have a women's league despite boasting the biggest consumer base. Retainers have given players some financial security, but administrators don't pay out of their pocket. Shah and Ganguly possibly faced internal resistance from a board that is apathetic at best. Shah probably deserves credit for finally overriding this apathy, but this bare minimum is well short of what the richest board in the world should be investing in women's cricket.
The very sport they were fighting for tested India thoroughly. They won just one toss in the entire tournament. The pitches didn't neutralise their opponents. They lost their second-highest run-getter to injury. One of their three must-win matches was against Australia, who had last lost in a World Cup eight years ago. A team that had beaten India despite scores of 281 and 330 leading up to this match. Australia then asked them to mount a world-record chase in order to play the final.
Some magic took place that Thursday night at the DY Patil Stadium in Navi Mumbai, entering which had been a nightmare for fans when it rained earlier in the tournament. Jemimah Rodrigues, whose dismissal in the corresponding fixture in the 2023 T20 World Cup started a collapse that resulted in India falling just five short of Australia, muttered verses from the Bible under her breath as she overcame her anxiety to play an innings that, to repeat Zohran Mamdani's quoting of Jawaharlal Nehru, comes but rarely in history. Her interview immediately after offered a rare window into the mind and heart of a human being who happened to be a high-performance athlete. Harmanpreet went from Kaur to Thor just as the asking rate started to get out of hand. Richa Ghosh provided the finishing touches as she would in the final.
Little marketing, second-tier stadiums, no hyped storylines, no time for a build-up, and yet we had a nation glued to their screens on Sunday. Let alone Sunday, we even talked about their nets session on Saturday, where Rodrigues brought her dog Jade along. Nothing says home match than bringing your dog to training.
Dormant WhatsApp and Signal groups came back to life. The viewership on JioHotstar matched the numbers for the men's T20 World Cup final last year, telling administrators and businesses they can no longer look away. Groups of men in the stands dancing for and supporting these women was a powerful statement.
Rohit Sharma, who won India that T20 final and watched this match at the stadium, did well to disappear towards the end and not become the focus of attention. R Ashwin, likely watching with his wife at home, spoke on his YouTube channel about how he learned how offensive it is to use men's cricket as a reference when talking about the women's game. (He can be excused, though, for missing in the men's game the genuine bond we saw between these champions and former players from the side.)
Jhulan Goswami, who looked out for Harmanpreet and Smriti Mandhana when they started out, was in tears when she finally got to touch the trophy. The players insisted Mithali Raj get a feel of it too. Away from the stadium, off camera, former players in TV studios shed tears of joy. The crowd had it in them to appreciate Laura Wolvaardt, who scored centuries in the semi and the final.
Any change comes with conflict. Already, going mainstream has strained that organic bond between these players and their fans. Harmanpreet has locked her X account, ostensibly following gossip about her relationship status. As this win naturally asks for more for women's sport, as it attracts those who want to bask in reflected glory, it might be impossible to recreate the magic of that final week. A week during which a part of the soul of this cricketing nation, long suppressed, found utterance.