There are sporting legends, and then there are those rare figures who become the foundation of an entire movement. Mithali Raj is the latter, the spine, the soul, and the quiet revolution that pushed Indian women’s cricket from anonymity into the heart of a billion people. Today, on her birthday, the game stands taller because she once stood alone, refusing to bow.
For more than two decades, women’s cricket in India had one constant: a calm presence walking out in navy blue, eyes steady, shoulders squared, absorbing pressures unseen and unheard. When the lights were dim, budgets smaller, and crowds indifferent, Mithali still delivered, relentlessly, gracefully, often without applause. In the toughest games, when others crumbled, she found another gear. Ask anyone who has followed the sport closely: India reached finals because Mithali refused to let them fall short.
The 2005 World Cup semi-final knock against New Zealand, played with a serenity that belied the occasion, remains one of the greatest innings ever played by an Indian in a knockout match. Her runs in pressure chases, her reliability in low-scoring thrillers, her calm in moments when the team needed oxygen, these were trademarks of a player who performed not for recognition, but responsibility.
And yet, for all her greatness, fate was cruel. Twice India reached a final. Twice the Cup slipped away. Those who lived those nights will never forget the heartbreak, the tears of 2017, the hollowness of 2005. They were not just collective losses; they were wounds that cut deepest into the one who had carried the largest share of hope.
Which is why the night of the 2025 ODI World Cup final was more than history, it was healing.
As Harmanpreet Kaur took Nadine de Klerk’s catch and India sealed their first-ever Women’s ODI World Cup, there was chaos, emotion, and disbelief in the press box. I witnessed the moment, but had no time to even process it. Like every game, we had to sprint down to begin the post-match show. Only this time, it wasn’t routine. It was a privilege. A joy. For someone who had cried after the 2017 loss, and been heartbroken as a child in 2005, this was redemption.
And then I turned around.
There she was — Mithali Raj. The pioneer of pioneers. The woman who had held Indian women’s cricket together long enough for the rest of the world to finally notice. She was running towards the lift, just like the rest of us, because she too had a broadcast commitment. But her face… her face was glowing.
A beaming, uninhibited, little-girl smile, the kind we had rarely seen, because Mithali had spent her career carrying responsibilities heavier than most athletes can imagine.
Mel Jones, running alongside, asked her, “Congratulations Mithali, how does it feel?”
And with the slightest exhale, she replied,
“A huge burden finally off my chest. Finally, the World Cup.”
No drama. No self-centredness. Just relief, quiet, dignified, utterly human.
Later, when the team lifted the trophy, something extraordinary happened. Instead of celebrating in isolation, the players shared it. They called out to Mithali Raj and Jhulan Goswami — the two pillars who had paved the road they now stood on. Former players Reema Malhotra and Anjum Chopra were around too.
Jemimah Rodrigues and Radha Yadav kept insisting Mithali pick up the Cup. She resisted, as she always has, choosing humility over spotlight. But Jemi, Radha, Arundhati Reddy and others wouldn’t take no for an answer.
And then, finally, she held it.
In that moment, her fingers around the silverware, the lights reflecting in her eyes, the sport healed. Every loss, every ‘almost’, every heartbreak of 2005, every tear of 2017… it all found closure. She lifted the Cup not as a champion of that night, but as the architect of every night that had led to it.
Even after the celebrations, Mithali didn’t speak of her role or her legacy. Not once did she attempt to claim credit, push a narrative, or remind the world that this had been her dream too. She didn’t need to. The players did it for her. The fans did it. The sport itself did it.
Because Mithali Raj’s greatness has never needed amplification.
She is the quiet storm that changed everything.
She is the reason India began believing.
She is the pioneer who made the dream possible.
Today, as we celebrate her birthday, we also celebrate the generations she inspired, the girls who picked up bats because she showed them how to dream, the families who finally encouraged daughters because her presence demanded respect, the ecosystem that shifted because she refused to let it stay small.
Some athletes win trophies.
A rare few win respect.
Only the rarest win hearts.
Mithali Raj has won all three and she has done it with grace that belongs in sporting folklore.
Happy Birthday, Mithali.
Thank you for giving us a lifetime of pride, hope, and quiet courage.
Thank you for changing the game.
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