Women cricketers in the Valley have long struggled at the stumps.

It is autumn, but by noon the sun is getting harsher and the turf dryer at Srinagar’s Bakshi Stadium. The stands are empty and the seats rickety. There is no scoreboard. Every now and then the score is announced on the mic. But none of this stops a bunch of girls in black-and-red jerseys from loudly cheering their teammates and booing the opponents.

At the dugout, Meenaz Khalid, 21, in grey pants, tucked-in shirt and leather belt, is rooting for Srinagar Power Hitters who are playing the Jammu Warriors in the finals of the first-ever Twenty20 tournament for women held in the city.

Meenaz is a senior member of the team, but had to sit this one out because of fitness issues. She is here today to boost her team’s morale, as her team’s spinners struggle to take wickets in the first innings.

“Our team can chase up to 150 runs in 20 overs but…,” says Meenaz, and pauses. “We lack practice, unlike the girls from Jammu. You can see the difference in body language. This is the first time we are playing a Twenty20 tournament in Srinagar. We were given only a week to prepare; yet we’re in the finals.”

All-round battle

Women cricketers in the Valley have long struggled at the stumps. Not just because of the conservatism at home and on the streets but also the minimal support and poor promotion they have received from the government.

Meenaz lives in congested Kani Pora, near Srinagar. She owes much of her cricketing career to her father who “refused to listen to society”. The youngest of seven sisters, her father wanted a boy, so when she was born “he decided to treat me like a boy. He used to always dress me up as a boy,” she recollects. She played with the boys, heading out with them every Sunday to the cricket ground. She wasn’t even scolded if she came home late. Soon, her mohalla came to terms with her. “Once, even the school let me sit for my Class VII examinations after I had finished my game,” she recalls.

Meenaz went on to become an all-rounder on the cricket field, along with arming herself with a diploma in computer science. She has since played the nationals three times, and became one of the first few women cricketers from Kashmir to break the glass ceiling when she was selected to play for her State in 2006.

On the field, opening batswoman Nusrat Jan is swinging enthusiastically at the ball. “Go slow,” her coaches Abida Khan and Parveena Akhtar yell from the boundary line. “She is a temperamental player and just knows how to hit it big,” they say. “We teach them how to plan and use their talent to convert it into victories.” Nusrat is a Class XII student from Ahmad Nagar on the outskirts of Srinagar. She is affectionately called Inzamam-ul-Haq by her team for her stocky build and slow running between wickets.

Khan and Akhtar have been coaching girl students since 2008, but it’s a tough task, not because of a lack of talent, but because of a lack of support from parents. When they scout talent from rural areas, the resistance is especially strong. For this tournament, at least 250 women from all 10 districts in the Valley were picked. “We counsel parents. We make them understand that the game can get their daughters fame and money,” says Khan.

Rehana Jan, for instance, is an all-rounder who lives in the remote Kangan area of Ganderbal district. The coaches struggled to convince her parents that their daughter was safe in camps and night-long training sessions. A Class V student from Anantnag district became the youngest girl to play in the tournament. “This is our success,” says the coach.

Unsurprisingly, it’s never easy for the girls. Henaan Maqbool is a medium pacer from Srinagar’s volatile Karan Nagar area. She has played 12 national-level games and believes a woman cricketer has to work harder than her male counterparts. “We can’t compromise with the daily chores at home. I have to do those too.” Then, there’s the family to convince. “I had to earn their trust. What people said about me did not impact me. I just focused on my performance,” she says.

Dressing for success

Henaan, whose two-wicket haul dented the Jammu team earlier in the day, says all parents in the Valley should allow their daughters to play cricket. The way the girls dress has attracted attention too. Some, like Tabia Bhat, wear a hijab on the ground, many others remove it. “Why are we being questioned on our dress code?” asks Tabia.

Even as families are being slowly convinced, the authorities are letting the women down, and the players are getting edgier with each passing day. “We have no calendar for games. Where I live, there are no playgrounds,” says Abriq Zahoor. “The reason we dropped catches today is lack of practice.” The cricketing season is short in Kashmir — only the last four months of the year — and even this is missed due to poor scheduling. Abriq buys her own kit and can afford to travel to the grounds, but girls from the villages find it hard. It’s only passion that keeps the flame burning.

It was Ashraf Bushra who literally forced the J&K State Sports Council to hold the women’s Twenty20 tournament this year. Studying for a B.A. degree in the University of Kashmir, the batting talent captains the Srinagar team and is a huge Dhoni fan. “I am as cool as he is,” she says.

The sun is slowly setting now. Srinagar Power Hitters fall 32 runs short of lifting the trophy, scoring 88 against the Warriors’ 120. J&K State Sports Council Secretary Waheed Parra calls it a victory for all the women of Jammu and Kashmir. “This is a pilot project. It’s a demonstration of the confidence these young women have today.” The council is waking up: it has decided to fund coaching stints abroad for talented cricketers. “The sport restores the dignity of women. We have already tied up with an Australian cricket academy,” says Parra.

Ashraf tells me people ask her what she will achieve by playing cricket. “I don’t even care to respond,” she says.