In an era defined by professional leagues, televised matches, and substantial contracts, it is easy to forget the challenging, often painful, journey undertaken by the pioneers of Indian Women’s Cricket. A recent interview with former Team India captains, Jhulan Goswami and Mithali Raj, laid bare the stark reality of their early careers: a world of negligible funding, social opposition, emotional abuse, and personal sacrifice. Their stories are a testament to the sheer grit and “pure passion” required to lay the foundation for the sport today.
Jhulan Goswami: The Battle on the Local Train
For fast-bowling legend Jhulan Goswami, the journey began not with a selection notice, but with a complementary pass to the 1997 Women’s World Cup.
The young Jhulan, then a ball girl at Kolkata’s iconic Eden Gardens, witnessed the Australian team take a victory lap. This moment solidified her dream: “If I take the sport professionally, at least one day I can play for my country. If I can take one wicket, that will be the ultimate goal.”
However, translating this passion into a career was an uphill climb. Coming from a middle-class village background, her family initially rejected the idea. They knew nothing of women’s cricket and felt sports was an unsuitable profession for girls, suggesting more “cultural stuff” like singing or dancing. It took six months of relentless persuasion for Jhulan to convince her family.
Once she started, the physical and emotional toll began. She had to travel five hours—up and down—by local train between her hometown and Kolkata for practice, often sacrificing school days. On these packed commutes, she was subjected to constant, demoralizing criticism. She recounts receiving “a lot of negative comments,” with people questioning her purpose and asking, “Why are you wasting your time?”
Worse still was the emotional abuse. Travelling with her large cricket kit bag made her a target:
“They used to start abusing you also regarding, you know, why you are taking such a big big bags…”
Despite the hostility, Goswami maintained her focus, driven by nothing but her “love and passion” to play for her country. The lack of financial support also meant deep personal sacrifices. She revealed that during the annual Durga Puja festival, a time for new purchases, she would forgo buying new clothes for herself and instead spend the money on essential gear: a single pair of bowling spikes, batting gloves, and a bat, which she would then stretch to last for eight to nine months.
Mithali Raj: The ₹1,000 World Cup Payout
Mithali Raj’s challenge, while different from Jhulan’s grassroots struggle, was defined by the humiliating lack of professional structure and funding. Although she came from a supportive military family, she still faced resistance from her grandparents and societal stereotypes, especially in South India, about playing a “rough sport” with boys and fears that she would get “dark.”
The financial reality of the sport was brutal. Raj confirmed that in the early days, there were no match fees and no annual contracts.
Her personal expenses were often unmanageable for her family. When she was first selected for India in 1999, she had to personally reach out to her bank and school for financial help to fund her tour, as the state associations lacked the necessary funds. She recalled the necessity of competing in under-16 and under-19 tournaments just to win scholarships, which provided the only reliable source of income.
Equipment was a constant struggle. Raj recalled patching up and using one bat for nearly two years and sharing gear with teammates. This all came into sharp focus when she detailed the low point of their financial struggle:
“That was the 2005 World Cup… when we came back as runners up… and you got a 1,000 rupees per match.”To put this in perspective, the team had just finished as the second-best in the world, yet their compensation was a meagre ₹1,000 per game. Both she and Goswami recounted a time when players had to give money from their own pockets to the association just to book their train tickets for domestic tournaments.
The Turning Point and the Helping Hand
In the face of these adversities, moments of support stood out. Raj recounted a pivotal moment just before the 2005 World Cup when the Women’s Cricket Association of India (WCAI) was struggling to secure a team sponsor.
It was then that actress and well-known commentator Mandira Bedi stepped forward. As Raj recalled, Bedi decided to use her own platform and give a part of her brand endorsement fee (from a jewelry brand) to help fund the team. This gesture provided crucial financial relief and, perhaps more importantly, external validation for a sport that was still “in the shadows.”
The true shift toward professionalisation, however, came after the Indian Women’s Cricket team merged under the BCCI (Board of Control for Cricket in India). This transition, while initially slow, introduced significant improvements in travel, accommodation, and the eventual implementation of a contract system. The change was dramatically illustrated by Raj’s bat story: once the matches were televised, manufacturers started lining up to provide equipment, seeing the branding opportunity. She no longer had to “sort of buy a bat and keep it for and save it like… it’s like a fixed deposit.”
Today, the players who once struggled to afford gear and faced abuse on packed trains are recognized legends. Their sacrifices have laid the groundwork for the modern generation—a generation that enjoys central contracts, state-of-the-art facilities, and the financial security of lucrative tournaments like the Women’s Premier League. The stories of Jhulan Goswami and Mithali Raj serve as a powerful reminder that the foundation of today’s success was built on a passion so profound, it overcame every obstacle thrown its way.
About The Author
