Going Beyond the Boundaries

An Indian Australian woman's reflection on the 2025 ICC Women's World Cup and the cultural fight for freedom.

I was born in Kerala and moved to Darwin in the Northern Territory of Australia, when I was nine years old. In my life, I have deeply experienced the gravity of oppression and disempowerment - not just as a human, but as a woman, hailing from a culture that still applauds the patriarchy.

The Indian team lifting their trophy after World Cup Finals in Navi Mumbai. Photo credit: ICC/ Getty Images

I don’t follow cricket, or any sport for that matter. But, when I saw Harmanpreet Kaur pluck the ball out of the air and lead the women in blue to victory, I knew it was more than just a win on the field. It was a moment charged with meaning - a symbol of what becomes possible when women dare to dream, to rise, and to take up space in a world that so often tells us not to.

In the days that followed, my social media was flooded with clips of the team dancing, celebrating, crying, laughing. What truly moved me, were the stories shared by Urvandita e-magazine, which featured each player’s journey. Every story brought tears to my eyes. Each one carried a thread that echoed my own experience of being underestimated, of carrying the weight of a culture that could crush me at any moment. I saw reflections of my own life in each of their stories. All-rounder Sajeevan Sajana hails from Kerala, just as I do. Like her, I too have stood behind closed doors, listening to my father’s discussions about me, with my mother or his friends - wondering if today would be the day my freedom was taken away. Even as a little girl, I remember thinking: why am I not enough as I am?

The stories of cultural limitation are endless. In grade five, I watched in awe as the girls in the cheerleading team kicked their legs high and stretched into splits. I wanted to learn the cartwheels and flips too. Every evening before dark, I’d join my friends on the front lawn - often playing with the boys, practising my cartwheels.

One day, one of their dads, a man from Kerala, came outside and told me never to do that again - because “girls should not be spreading their legs in the air.” I was nine. I didn’t question it; I just stopped practising. I didn’t stop dreaming about gymnastics, but I knew better than to ask. Leotards, shorts, and crop tops were not “culturally aligned”.

Author, Athira, in a saree at festive Onam celebrations, shortly after she left home in her mid-twenties.

As a child who so easily locked away her dreams, shut her mouth, and lowered her eyes, I understand the immense battle that each of the women playing cricket for India, has undergone. Every woman cricketer for that matter, not just the highly successful ones. Judgement is rife in India - judgement towards men, certainly, but judgement towards women is in a league of it’s own. 

These women have had to go through a huge amount of judgement, breaking through again and again to get to where they are. Shafali Verma cut her hair to disguise herself as a boy to play on the field; Deepti Sharma was laughed at when she asked to bowl for the first time; Uma Chetry cycled 10km every day to reach the training ground. In their determination is the spirit of every girl who has been told no and yet, found a way to say yes. They deserve respect, for their perseverance, ambition and leadership.

The strong support these players received from their families was a pleasant surprise and brought tears to my eyes. It filled me with joy to read about the Indian parents who go against the grain to empower their daughters. Harleen Kaur Deol’s father wrote:

“Every house should have a daughter. They must have the freedom to choose. Parents only need to stand by them.” 

A group of cheerful Indian girls in rural India. Photo credit: Izabela Habur/ Getty Images

Seeing videos of Harmanpreet Kaur and Jemimah Rodrigues being lifted up into a hug by their fathers filled me with grief for every woman who has not experienced love like that from her father - myself included. It is the epitome of what healing looks like when it is given freely - and of the strength it takes to find it in yourself when it’s not. 

Even with the lack of support, mine too is a success story. At twenty-seven years of age, I have managed to scaffold myself into a position where full choice and freedom are finally possible. I do not need to answer to anyone - not my father, not my brother, not a husband and not a community.

Like every player on that team, the journey here has not been easy. It has not been easy to find the light that was once dimmed. It has not been easy to acknowledge the vacuum of support I received when I needed it most. It has not been easy to reconcile being born into culture pressures that I didn’t ask for. And it definitely has not been easy to accept my complicity in this culture. If weakness is a crime, it has been my greatest one.

What is relieving is the fairytale ending - the undeniable proof that it is possible to lead the life you want. These women started in their childhood. I started in my early twenties. All it takes is a bit of courage, strength, trust, and a whole lot of willingness. Willingness to let go. Willingness to not give up. Willingness to be the change.

Shefali Verma celebrates with Harmanpreet Kaur after a breakthrough wicket. Photo cred: ICC/ Getty Images

I have seen too many women around me succumb to the weight of obligation - too weak, too afraid, too deeply conditioned to think for themselves. In the therapy sessions that I do, I work with many young women that bore the weight of a burden that was never theirs. The feeling when witnessing the lightness that they experience, at the end of every session, is not one that can be put into words. 

It is a similar feeling, watching these women in blue - standing tall, fierce, unapologetic. Through them, I am once again reminded of what is possible when women rise.