Picture the scene: it’s the 2030 FIFA World Cup, and the Indian men’s football team strides onto the pitch at the Bernabeu. The starting eleven blends homegrown tenacity with the polished flair of Overseas Citizens of India (OCI); players of Indian descent who’ve cut their teeth in Europe’s elite leagues. A midfielder with Punjabi roots, forged in the Scottish Premiership, delivers a pinpoint pass to a Kerala-born striker, who slots it home. The stadium erupts. This isn’t a flight of fancy, it’s a future within grasp, if only India’s legal framework would bend to match its sporting ambition. Yet, for OCI cardholders eager to don the Blue Tigers’ jersey, India’s laws remain an immovable barrier. It’s time to dismantle that wall. Not just for the players, but for the soul of Indian football.
The root of this exclusion lies in the Citizenship Act of 1955, as amended. Section 9(2) unequivocally prohibits dual citizenship, relegating OCI cardholders registered under Section 7A to the status of foreign nationals despite their Indian heritage. This classification carries weight beyond semantics. A 2008 notification from the Ministry of Youth Affairs and Sports (No. F.45-5/2008) further entrenches the restriction, mandating that only Indian nationals, those holding Indian passports may represent the country in international sporting contests.
This rigidity jars with the Fédération Internationale de Football Association (FIFA) Statutes. Article 7 thereof delineates eligibility criteria: nationality, birthplace, or familial lineage (e.g., a parent or grandparent born in the territory) suffices, with provision for a one-time switch of association prior to a competitive senior international cap. FIFA’s framework embraces diaspora talent, a flexibility India’s domestic law stifles. For an OCI player to represent India, they must renounce foreign citizenship, and secure an Indian passport under Section 5. This is no small ask, especially for professionals thriving abroad.
The All India Football Federation (AIFF) isn’t blind to this lost opportunity. Under President Kalyan Chaubey’s stewardship, the AIFF had convened a task force to explore integrating OCI and Persons of Indian Origin (PIO) players. This builds on calls from former coach Igor Stimac, who saw the diaspora as a lifeline for a team languishing at a FIFA ranking of 127.
Take Yan Dhanda, a 26-year-old midfielder playing in the Scottish Premiership. He has previously played for West Brom and Liverpool youth teams. Born in England to Indian parents, he’s eligible under FIFA rules and has publicly mused about playing for India. Yet, the Citizenship Act bars him unless he upends his career. Then there’s Izumi Arata, a Japanese-Indian forward who took the plunge in 2012, renouncing his Japanese passport to score for India. His goals were a gift, but his sacrifice? Leaving a football powerhouse for an underdog underscores the system’s flaws. Why force such a choice when we could rewrite the rules?
Here’s where the argument takes shape: OCI players aren’t just a stopgap. They’re a catalyst to propel Indian football forward. Our national team leans heavily on Sunil Chhetri, now 40, with little depth to replace him. Domestic leagues like the ISL are growing, but they can’t yet replicate the intensity of Europe’s proving grounds. OCI talent—Dhanda’s creativity, Danny Batth’s steel in England’s Championship with Blackburn Rovers, brings what we lack: professional polish, tactical maturity, and a global perspective.
Look at Morocco’s 2022 World Cup run: fourth place, a historic feat. Fourteen of their 26 players were born abroad, sons of Moroccan immigrants raised in Europe’s football crucibles. Hakim Ziyech, a Dutch-born maestro, dazzled with his vision; Sofyan Amrabat, honed in the Netherlands and Italy, anchored the midfield with grit. Their diaspora didn’t weaken Morocco, but instead, it forged a powerhouse. India could mirror this. Picture a backline marshalled by an OCI defender schooled in the Premier League, feeding a playmaker who’s mastered Spain’s tempo. These aren’t hypotheticals. There are players out there now, waiting for a call that never comes.
Critics balk, arguing this bypasses grassroots investment. With over a billion people, shouldn’t we cultivate our own? It’s a valid concern, but it’s not a zero-sum game. Morocco didn’t ditch its academies. It paired them with overseas talent, lifting the bar across the board. India’s youth systems need decades to rival global standards; OCI players offer an immediate boost, mentoring the next generation as they go. Others worry about national identity. Will “foreigners” dilute our spirit? Morocco’s fans, weeping with pride in Qatar, would laugh at that. Identity isn’t a passport; it’s a heartbeat, and OCI players carry India's identity in theirs.
The obstacles are real. Amending the Citizenship Act for dual citizenship is a non-starter. Its implications ripple far beyond sports, touching national security and constitutional bedrock. Practically, OCI players renouncing foreign nationality face dire trade-offs. Dhanda, for instance, would lose his UK work permit, stranding his career for a nation ranked 127th. Not a fair deal. The solution? A targeted legislative tweak: amend the 2008 notification or enact a sports-specific ordinance, granting OCI status legal recognition for international eligibility. This aligns with FIFA’s rules. India need only say yes. The AIFF could sweeten the deal with fast-tracked registration, tax incentives, and pre-tournament camps to ease FIFA’s residency clause. It’s not seamless. The players might still need a year in India. But it’s a start. The task force’s proposal hints at this path; political courage must follow.
We all have had an insight into deals that bridge nations, and known locker rooms watching players chase dreams. Indian football needs both law and passion to rise. OCI talent isn’t a fix-all, but it’s a spark. I see a 2030 squad where a Chhetri heir, sharpened by an OCI veteran, buries a goal that echoes from Kolkata to London. I see packed stands, a buzzing ISL, and kids dreaming bigger.
This is personal. Last year, I met a young OCI player with Indian roots, a foreign accent, and a left foot that could split defenses. He asked me, “Could I ever play for India?” I had to say no, not yet. That’s the fire behind this argument. Morocco showed what’s possible when you embrace your diaspora. India can do the same. The AIFF’s moving; the government must act.
About the author: Ujwal Trivedi is a Partner of Manilal Kher Ambalal & Co. He is also a Licensed FIFA agent.
Disclaimer: The opinions expressed in this article are those of the authors. The opinions presented do not necessarily reflect the views of Bar & Bench.
If you would like your Deals, Columns, Press Releases to be published on Bar & Bench, please fill in the form available here.