2 November 2025 is being hailed as the 25 June 1983 equivalent for the Indian women’s cricket team.
Harmanpreet Kaur, lifting India’s maiden ICC Women’s ODI World Cup title at the DY Patil Stadium in Navi Mumbai, is being likened to Kapil Dev hoisting the Prudential Cup at Lord’s.
This is the narrative you have been fed. For all cinematic and emotional purposes, it fits — soul-stirring, tugging at hearts. Yet the comparison is flawed. Superficial. Hollow.
There Was A Revolution Before 1983
One can rightly call India’s World Cup win — a 52-run triumph over South Africa in the final — a watershed moment. It crowns a team that has endured decades of heartbreak.
This, though, does not mark the commencement of a revolution. The revolution has been in the making for the last five decades. A revolution, that has often been stalled, and sometimes sabotaged, but never extinguished.
Five years before Dev, and his team, stood on the iconic balcony of cricket’s sanctimonious shrine, India had hosted a World Cup — the first-ever cricket World Cup held in the nation, a whole nine years before it hosted a men’s World Cup. A tournament that has conveniently been forgotten.
What was there to remember, one might ask?
Not much. The team itself had been formally constituted only five years earlier, thanks to Mahendra Kumar Sharma, a handball and softball tournament organizer. Upon seeing female softball players playing cricket on a railway platform, he envisioned organized women’s cricket competitions, eventually leading to the formation of the Women’s Cricket Association of India (WCAI).
It governed women’s cricket in India, but did not offer much beyond mere regulation. There have even been allegations of money laundering behind the façade of the organisation, but that calls for an investigative reportage beyond the scope of this article.
Sleeping Outside Toilets, No Match Fee, Dumped In Dormitories — The World Cup Legends We Don't Speak About
The revolution, though, had been triggered. And it was done purely out of might. The Indian cricketers did not receive any financial compensation for their efforts. Vis-à-vis, the male cricketers received Rs 1,500 as match fee for every ODI during the 1983 World Cup, which amounts to roughly Rs 30,000 in today’s money, alongside a daily allowance of Rs 200.
It was not restricted to that.
The players also had to arrange for their own travel expenses. On brighter days, when they had money, they could book train tickets. When they were not as fortunate, they would travel without tickets and sleep wherever they can — often in the spaces near the toilets. For accommodation, they would put up at dormitories, and as for kits, they would share among the team because each player having her own gear was beyond a dream.
And yet, India competed in its maiden home World Cup. The story largely went unreported. Perhaps it was meant to.
19 Years Later, Another World Cup But Same Story
But 1978 seems in the distant past, and situation must have improved for the female cricketers following Kapil Dev’s ’83 heroics?
Ideally, it should have. This is not a very ideally world.
The next Women’s World Cup hosted by India was two decades later — in 1997. Unlike the previous instance, where only three touring teams turned up, this was a robust competition with eleven participants. And unlike the previous instance, where India lost all of their matches, the hosts qualified for the semi-final.
Had it not been for Cathryn Fitzpatrick’s spell, India might have qualified for the final. Albeit they did not, they were invited for the final, held in Kolkata’s Eden Gardens stadium.
Upon reaching the venue, the players found out that passes for the pavilion could not be arranged, and they would have to sit in the stands with the fans. In an attempt to enter the pitch for the presentation ceremony, the players were held and restrained at the gate.
If 1997 feels distant as well, Mithali Raj — who was among the fortunate ones to lift the trophy on 2 November — would tell you that even she had to travel in train for matches.
Don't Be Fooled — Treatment Had Not Changed Until Recently
In one such November, merely 19 years ago, the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI) took the women’s team under its wing. Reluctantly, if one can say so.
The pretext was that an International Cricket Council (ICC) mandate required every member association to develop a women’s wing, but with the BCCI being hesitant at first, they were granted an additional year to complete the onboarding.
Despite the onboarding being done in 2006, it took the board another nine years to offer professional central contracts to its female cricketers.
Indeed, during India’s last ODI World Cup triumph before yesterday, the female cricketers did not have any central contracts.
And, indeed, India were the last team among the top eight nation in women’s cricket to award central contracts to its female cricketers. Pakistan — the very team who finished last in this World Cup, hailing from the very conservative nation where female cricketers received death threats till as late as the initial years of this century — had offered its players professional contracts three years before India did.
Amid all the aforementioned obstacles, that, a stable Indian women’s cricket team had existed since the last 70s, is a revolution in itself. esterday’s triumph was merely the crowning moment of a long-fought revolution. Decades of struggle, obscured victories, and quiet perseverance culminated in this instant.
Quoting Lenin in an article on women’s cricket might qualify as bizarre crossover, but indeed, there are decades where nothing happens; and there are weeks were decades happen.
For the Indian women’s team, decades happened over the last few weeks. It is only now that we are noticing the revolution.
The 1983 men’s victory is celebrated as revolutionary, for, it was the men’s first significant victort. But Indian women had been winning quietly for decades. Every day, they’ve faced — and overcome — obstacles that would have ended most dreams.
Why do we say so?
Our Girls Win Every Day
In a nation ranked 131st among 148 countries on the Global Gender Gap Index, and fifth from the bottom on Economic Participation and Opportunity, a girl even daring to pursue a sport is a victory in itself.
In a country ranked 174th of 181 nations for female representation in government or executive roles, a girl aspiring to carve her niche and make an identity of her own is a victory in itself.
In a nation accounting for 40% of the world’s child brides, a girl chasing a professional career is a victory in itself.
In a country where 2,39,000 girl children under five die annually due to discrimination, the simple-yet-rebellious act of picking up a bat is a victory in itself.
In a nation where a girl child is 75% more likely than a boy to die from neglect, and selective abortions have created a projected deficit of 6.8 million girls between 2017–2030, each girl who survives and dreams is a victory in itself.
2 November 2025 was not 25 June 1983. It did not spark a revolution — it was the latest chapter in one that had been building quietly for decades.
And, it was not the first instance of India’s girls winning. When you do not provide someone with a level playing field, the very act of not deserting the battleground is a victory in itself. Our girls had won every day, up until now. It is just that only yesterday, you chose not to be blind.