The Religion That Made an Atheist Superstitious

A satirical reflection on superstition, fandom, and India’s unofficial religion.

I am an atheist. I don’t follow any religion, nor do I believe in superstitions. I have always considered myself a rational person who prefers logic over rituals and evidence over belief.

Yet I was born and raised in India — a country where religions, traditions, and beliefs coexist in astonishing numbers. Hinduism, Islam, Christianity, Sikhism, Buddhism, Jainism… the list goes on. India is often described as a land where countless faiths converge.

But if we are being completely honest, the largest religion in India might not be any of these.

It might just be cricket.

For millions of Indians, cricket is not merely a sport. It is an emotion, a collective obsession, and at times, something that behaves suspiciously like a religion.

Many fans treat legends such as Sachin Tendulkar or modern icons like Virat Kohli with a level of reverence that borders on devotion. Some even call Tendulkar the “God of Cricket”.

I am not one of those fans. I don’t worship cricketers — not even jokingly.

And yet, when the Indian team plays an important match, something strange happens to my rational mind.

Suddenly, superstition begins to creep in.

---

The Sofa Rule

One of the funniest depictions of this strange cricket superstition appears in the Malayalam movie Maheshinte Prathikaram.

In one scene, a family is watching an India vs Australia match on television. India is batting. The tension in the room is palpable.

Suddenly, the phone rings.

The father of the house, Artist Baby, begins to get up from the sofa to answer the call. But before he can even stand, his daughter Soniya quickly grabs the phone and answers it herself.

Her reasoning?

If Baby gets up from the sofa, India might lose a wicket.

Anyone who has watched cricket with family or friends in India knows exactly how believable that moment is. We laugh at it because it feels absurd — and yet, deep down, it feels strangely familiar.

The humour peaks when Baby eventually stands up after the call.

And almost immediately, a wicket falls, and Baby is blamed for “causing” the dismissal.

Ridiculous? Absolutely.

Relatable? Painfully.

---

When Nobody Is Allowed to Move

But this kind of superstition isn’t limited to living rooms.

There is also a famous story from the 1983 Cricket World Cup, often retold in cricket folklore and popularised in the film 83.

During that tournament, the Indian captain Kapil Dev played one of the most iconic innings in cricket history — an unbeaten 175 against Zimbabwe.

As the innings progressed, tension in the Indian dressing room reportedly reached an unusual level.

The team manager PR Man Singh believed that if anyone moved from their position, Kapil Dev might get out. So he insisted that everyone remain exactly where they were sitting.

At one point, Krishnamachari Srikkanth — affectionately known as Cheeka — reportedly asked if he could go to the restroom.

The response?

No one moves.

When the fate of the match is at stake, apparently even basic human needs must wait.

---

Even the Priests Have Their Rituals

Of course, superstition in cricket is not limited to fans sitting nervously in front of television screens. The players themselves — the very people performing on the field — are often just as ritualistic.

Over the years, many cricketers have openly admitted to following small routines or habits that they believe help maintain their form.

Take Sachin Tendulkar for instance. Throughout much of his legendary career, he followed a simple but strict ritual before going out to bat: the left pad always had to go on before the right.

Another familiar example is Virender Sehwag, who famously revealed that he often hummed Bollywood songs while batting. When the pressure built during tense moments, quietly singing to himself helped him stay calm at the crease.

Then there is Virat Kohli, who has spoken about carrying specific wristbands or threads during certain phases of his career as part of his personal belief system.

And Indian cricket fans will also remember the quirky ritual of Sourav Ganguly, who often insisted on entering the field with his left foot first.

But this curious relationship between cricket and superstition is not limited to India.

Australian legend Steve Waugh famously carried a red handkerchief in his pocket during matches for years as a good-luck charm.

South African batsman Neil McKenzie reportedly took superstition to another level entirely, carefully aligning his equipment and even taping his bat to the ceiling overnight.

At some point, one begins to realise something interesting.

Cricket may well be the only sport where both the spectators and the participants share the same irrational hope — that some tiny ritual might somehow influence events unfolding on the field.

Which raises a curious question.

In this grand religion of cricket, who feels the pressure more?

The players — the priests performing the rituals on the field?

Or the millions of anxious fans — the devotees — sitting in front of televisions, desperately trying not to move from their lucky spot on the sofa?

The truth is, we may never know.

---

Confessions of a Devoted Non-Believer

And this is where my own hypocrisy begins to reveal itself.

Because despite proudly identifying as an atheist who does not believe in superstition, cricket somehow manages to bring out the most irrational version of me.

Take the infamous “commentator’s curse.”

Every cricket fan knows it.

The moment a commentator praises an Indian batsman in great form — something like “He looks absolutely unstoppable today” — my immediate reaction is not appreciation.

It is panic.

Within seconds, I begin cursing the commentator for jinxing the innings.

Then there are the dangerous thoughts about milestones.

When an Indian batsman is batting beautifully and approaching a fifty or a century, I try my absolute best not to think about the milestone. Because the moment that thought enters my head, the batsman somehow seems to get dismissed before reaching it.

If someone watching the match with me casually says, “Looks like he’ll get a hundred today,” my reaction can become surprisingly hostile. In my mind, they have just ruined everything.

And when a player I strongly support goes through a poor run of form, I sometimes begin to suspect that the problem might actually be me.

Maybe the player is not out of form.

Maybe he performs badly because I am watching.

At one point I even used to post updates on Facebook during live matches. Naturally, my friends soon developed their own theory: every time I posted something, something bad would immediately happen to the Indian team.

My posts had apparently become a bad omen.

What followed were long and passionate arguments in the comments section about whether my Facebook updates were secretly sabotaging the Indian team.

Looking back, the entire situation sounds absurd.

And yet, in the middle of a tense match, it all feels perfectly logical.

---

The Religion I Would Choose

And strangely enough, I do not feel ashamed of any of this.

Because if life ever forced me to choose a religion — if there was absolutely no other option — I suspect I would choose cricket without hesitation.

Why not?

Cricket has a remarkable ability to bring an entire country together in ways few other things can. For a few hours, millions of people experience the same emotions at the same time — the nail-biting tension, the racing heartbeats, the bursts of joy, and the inevitable heartbreaks.

No one in life actively seeks tension. Yet somehow, the tension of a closely fought cricket match feels completely worth it.

Perhaps the superstitions, the irrational fears, and even the occasional self-blame are simply coping mechanisms — little psychological tricks we play on ourselves to survive the emotional roller coaster of supporting the Indian cricket team.

Yes, I follow many other sports as well.

But when it comes to cricket, the feeling is entirely different.

Because cricket became the religion that made an atheist superstitious.