A generation that dared to dream

Why does it feel like a personal achievement that the Indian cricket team won the T20 World Cup yesterday? And why did it feel like a day of national mourning on November 20th, 2023, after India lost the ODI World Cup finals? Why is cricket in India more than just a professional sport, and instead a deeply personal experience for fans?

In the final quarter of the 20th century, Indian society was on the cusp of growth, burdened by the scars of colonialism. But in 1983, through a simple game of bat and ball—one of the remnants of colonial rule—inequalities were momentarily erased. Kapil Dev, a small-town hero, led a team of underdogs to victory in the biggest arena of the cricketing world, providing new hope to a nation thirsty for inspiration. India literally 'beat them in their own game'!

Through the late 1980s and throughout the 1990s, a generation of Indian kids (and young adults) grew up watching an unbelievable talisman named Sachin Tendulkar bring immense joy through his exploits on the cricket field. His rise coincided with India opening up more to the world as a country and market. Despite persistent feelings of assumed inferiority and self-doubt in society, Sachin represented a beacon of possibility. However, despite his individual brilliance, the team was inconsistent and didn't achieve substantial success overall.

Then came the 2000s and the era of Sourav Ganguly's merry men, who challenged every opposition in the world. By then, computers had taken over the world, and Indians found their space and purpose in a rapidly changing global landscape. This was mirrored on the cricket field, where there was room for both Sehwag and Dravid, each thwarting the opposition in their own ways. The 80s and 90s kids of India were outgrowing their childhood and slowly shedding the shell that had held them back; they dared to dream. Dreams of traveling the world, not just earning a living but having a fulfilling career, following their hearts, and not being constrained by imaginary bonds.

By the time the golden days of Dhoni's captaincy arrived, India was taking over the cricketing world through broadcast rights and the sheer numbers around the economics of the game. The coup was completed with the advent of IPL, which cemented the central position that India enjoys to this day in world cricket. The subsequent growth of the league and the players/franchises made India the unquestionable cricketing powerhouse, all while Indians were taking over as CEOs of global corporations. The percentage of the Indian workforce steadily outnumbered (and outperformed) any other group. By the early 2010s, India had clearly arrived.

It is one thing to fly under the radar, but the moment you're put under a spotlight, the much underrated anonymity is gone, and the weight of expectations starts bearing down upon you. This is what happened to Indian cricket throughout the 2010s. Match-winners and superstars like Virat Kohli became phenomena in their own right. Cricket was evolving from a passion or hobby to a professional sport; parents believed their children could have a career in cricket. The team was still unbeatable at home and won consistently around the world; every country wanted to play with India. Yet, the standard for measuring success set in 1983—a championship win in a global event—remained elusive. Despite being perhaps the most consistent team in the world across formats, an empty trophy cabinet was all that mattered. This also marks the time when non-cricket-playing Indians transitioned from being residents to citizens of countries far and wide, undergoing a similar journey of having to measure themselves with a different yardstick. 

For any Indian cricket fan who grew up in the later part of the 20th century, cricket is like a favorite cousin—always present at family gatherings, sharing in the highs and lows, and representing a bond that transcends mere play. This deep connection is why, though the scars of the 2023 loss and the euphoria of the 2024 win might eventually fade, the memories and emotions will linger. The team might play on and move on like any professional sport would, but every time an Indian captain lifts a trophy and celebrates with his team, it will always feel personal. It's a reminder that, like that cherished cousin, Indian cricket is a part of the family's story, a source of shared pride and collective heartache that continues to unite and inspire generations.