She took down someone who had never been defeated. She reached a peak no wrestler had climbed. And just when it seemed she was staring at a sliver of gold at the end of a dark tunnel, she was felled by a rule that had never been this cruel to any Olympian. This was the first Vinesh Phogat didn’t deserve.
What was to be the most inspiring moment for Indian sports — a woman repeatedly undermined by the system becoming the country’s first female gold medal winner — turned out to be a day of mourning. Sports picked the most inopportune time to showcase its flip side to the world. At an event where athletes were climbing podiums every hour, experiencing indescribable joy, there was a gloomy corner in Paris where a 29-year-old was dealing with a gut-wrenching disqualification.
Phogat had the will and the heart to take on the five-time BJP MP and Indian wrestling supremo Brij Bhushan Sharan Singh and compel the court to hear charges of sexual harassment against him. On the mat, she had the resolve to stun the so-far-unbeatable Japanese wrestler Yui Susaki.
It would be tempting to burn the rule book, tell the officials to have a heart, question the fairness of the world or moan at the cruelty of fate. But that ship has sailed, it wouldn’t help. Outrage, at best, can be cathartic. The fact is the 50kg Olympic podium wouldn’t have Phogat. The reason: She weighed more than others. By how much? Walk to your dining table, lift the salt-sprinkler, to get an idea. Take a pinch from it and gulp down a glass of water to push the lump down your throat.
In days to come, the world will move on. We might get busy celebrating a javelin medal or hockey’s sparkling consistency. Phogat, too, is sure to get sympathy. She will be called for felicitation functions and may even get cash awards. She would be made to feel like a winner. But there are lessons to learn from Paris, a few for the athletes, many for the high and mighty.
First, about Phogat. If there is anyone in Indian sports equipped to deal with this shock, it has to be her. When she was nine, her father was shot dead by someone who is said at her village to be a mentally disturbed relative just outside the front door of their home. That day, Phogat would later say, her mother, a young widow, lost the right to smile. But she did raise a gutsy daughter who wouldn’t get intimidated by anything.
Growing up, her cousins, living at a stone’s throw from her home in Balali in Haryana, were the more famous Phogats. They were the wrestling royalty, they had a movie made on them. As a junior, she was, at best, the fourth Phogat. But a fearless girl with big dreams wasn’t born to be a side story. The Vinesh story is more layered as her hurdles were far higher than those of her sisters. Dangal 2, if it’s ever made, will not be a Greek tragedy, it will be a feel-good story. It’s unlikely to have a podium finish at the end but then Phogat, after Paris, is perched higher than what an Olympic medal would lift you to.
Phogat has in her what most Indian sportspersons lack. She has the courage and conviction to take on the system and not care about consequences. Even in the company of taller, bigger male wrestlers, Vinesh would stand out because of the fire in her eyes. In those high-pressure Jantar Mantar street-fighting days, she was the one with the strongest spine and resolve. There were times when others would talk about finding a middle-path but Phogat’s anger would prove to be a deal-breaker.
Those covering her Olympic march at the Paris wrestling halls talk about the same rage when she took on the best in the world. After winning a bout, she wouldn’t wait for applause or appreciation. With blazing red eyes, breathing heavily, she would walk inside the tunnel.
The wrestler from Haryana had systematically channeled her anger. Her opponents didn’t know what hit them. Susaki had never lost, but against Phogat she did. Maybe, it’s because the Japanese legend had never been up against an opponent who had the angst and anger of Phogat. There was no one who wanted this medal so desperately. In one of her many defiant interviews, during her fight against Singh, she had said: “I will look him (Singh) in the eye and medal leke aoongi main, tu dekh (I will bring a medal, you see).” The medal might have been missed but a very important point has been made.
By reaching the gold-medal round, Phogat has shown how little the government and sports officials know about the nation’s sporting icons. When she had raised the importance of women’s safety at sporting arenas, she was dismissed as a seasonal slogan-raiser trying to blackmail the federation into agreeing to her demands. They weren’t even moved by the graphic details of sexual abuse in the police complaint filed by the country’s elite wrestlers. She was labelled a “has-been”, dismissed as “khota sikka”. They would plant stories against her. “She didn’t want to attend the trial, she is scared of young wrestlers”, “This is politically motivated” — they would tell their media friends. How wrong they were about the only woman in the world to beat the great Susaki.
Phogat’s dream run, until it took the nightmarish turn, had cast the focus on those who were silent when the wrestlers needed them most. There have been memes, a sad anticipation of what they will say now. Tragically, there are totally unsubstantiated whispers about the possibility of a conspiracy by an insider. It’s an unhealthy Us vs Them atmosphere where a win is seen as a vindication and not a collective celebration of a sporting ecosystem. This is not ideal for a nation with dreams of hosting the Olympics and climbing high in the medals tally.
Phogat was able to take her personal rage to the mat and succeed as a wrestler, now she faces a tougher task. She would now need to get over her Olympic hurt and move on. She might have been denied the silver but she will always be remembered as the one who was neither intimidated by Singh, nor ruffled by Susaki.
sandeep.dwivedi@expressindia.com
