Born in Punjab and raised in New Zealand, Ish Sodhi’s journey spans continents before coming full circle on the international stage. New Zealand’s most capped T20I player and leading wicket-taker once doubted whether he even had a future in the format, yet here he stands, a decade-long career behind him, still learning, still competing, and still defying the odds as a leg-spinner in one of cricket’s least spin-friendly environments.
During his recent tour of Bangladesh, the country where he made his Test debut back in 2013, the 33-year-old opened up to Times of Bangladesh about his remarkable cricketing journey, the unusual origins of his nickname, his admiration for Daniel Vettori, and his philosophy on leg-spin and longevity in a game that keeps changing beneath his feet.
Where does the name “Ish” come from? Is it a pet name from home?
Yeah, pretty much. When I was younger, my parents used to call me Ishu. And then when I moved to New Zealand, people really struggled to say Inderbir. There was actually a storybook where a bird in the story was called Ishmael. My friends used to call me Birdie because of Inderbir, and then it went from Birdie to Ishmael, and then from Ishmael to Ish. Quite a transition, really.
You were born in India, and your grandparents were originally from Pakistan. How did the migration happen?
Before partition, my grandparents moved out of that region and settled in India. I was born in Punjab. When I was four, my parents decided they wanted to move abroad for a new life, new challenges, new opportunities. They initially tried Canada but could not get visas. They tried Australia as well. Eventually the opportunity came up to go to New Zealand, and so they went in 1996. I am so grateful that they took on the enormous challenge of immigration with a young family. It was tough, but it worked out alright.
Congratulations on becoming New Zealand’s highest wicket-taker in T20 internationals. How does that feel?
I am really proud of it. I come from Papatoetoe in South Auckland, a place not particularly known for producing cricketers. It is more of a rugby area, and sometimes it gets a bit of a bad reputation. To come from there, as the son of immigrants, as a proud Kiwi, and to hold that record, makes it feel even more special.
What does this landmark mean to you beyond just the numbers?
Honestly, the numbers themselves do not mean a great deal. What means more to me is the fact that I have seen some genuinely great spin bowlers come to New Zealand and really struggle in our conditions. That tells you how difficult a place it is to play T20 cricket. What I am most proud of is the longevity. To have sustained a career as a leg-spinner in New Zealand for well over a decade is something I hold very dearly.
What is life like as a wrist-spinner in New Zealand?
It is tough, to put it simply. Tiny grounds, excellent batting wickets, conditions that heavily favour seam bowling. It is not exactly the most welcoming environment for a leg-spinner. But I look back with a great sense of pride, not so much at the statistics, but at the feeling of problem-solving over a long period of time and still being here. Resilience is everything for a leg-spinner on any given day, but in New Zealand, you need an extra layer of it.
You made your Test debut before you became known as a T20 specialist. How do you reflect on that career trajectory?
It is fascinating, really. Growing up, even in the mid-2000s, T20 cricket was never something I viewed as a career path. It was entertainment, something played for fun. Test cricket was always the pinnacle. I always assumed that red-ball cricket would be my path. But the game evolved, and if you look at the last 10 to 20 years, very few leg-spinners have sustained long Test careers. Things change, and you have to change with them.
You have spoken about increasing your pace. Has T20 cricket influenced that?
Absolutely. I am still learning how to bowl faster even now. For roughly a third of my life I tried to bowl slow, drifting leg-spin in the classical mould, the way I used to watch Warne or Stuart MacGill. But the game has shifted, and you have to shift with it.
Do you feel there is unfinished business in Test cricket?
I would not call it unfinished business, but I would love to be back in the conversation. The challenge has been the lack of consistent cricket: a few domestic games here, some T20s there, then sitting on the bench during a World Cup. It does not feel like a full season. If I get the opportunity to play extended four-day cricket back home and put up strong numbers, that would put me in a good position to be considered again.
Daniel Vettori was apparently something of a god in your household growing up.
Absolutely. He was someone we all looked up to. I was lucky enough to share a dressing room with him early in my career and even be part of his final Test. When you grow up watching someone like that, they carry an almost mythical aura. From where I come from, that sense of hero worship is deeply embedded. To not only meet him but to learn from him and spend time around him was truly special.
How much do you remember of your Test debut here in Bangladesh?
Nothing. Zero. I was completely blank. I was only 20, incredibly nervous. Actually, wait, I do remember one thing: coming out to bat and facing Shakib Al Hasan. He is one of the greatest all-rounders to have ever played Test cricket, and I had simply never faced a spin bowler like that in my life. That I do remember.
New Zealand has a population of just 5.5 million, yet consistently produces elite sporting talent. How?
I think it comes down to culture. Sport is everywhere in New Zealand from the time you are a child, in backyards, parks, open spaces. There is always competition, always play. That competitive spirit feels almost innate, something passed down through generations. For many New Zealanders, sport is simply a way of life from day one.
Finally, how is the rap career coming along?
Terrible, absolutely terrible! I am going to be a rockstar soon, though. (Laughs.) I have not rapped in a long time, so I am just chilling at the moment.
