Vinesh Phogat is a person who has had to overcome more than most. (Illustration by C R Sasikumar)
Vinesh Phogat — wrestler, fighter, rebel, slayer of giants on and off the mat — is an icon. She has become a powerful symbol thanks to her actions — rising from humble beginnings, in a place not known for women’s agency and right to excel, taking on Brij Bhushan Sharan Singh, the lord of Indian wrestling, and a system ranged against her. On the mat in Paris, the woman dismissed by the Wrestling Federation of India (WFI) completed the hero’s journey and silenced her critics by defeating the undefeated Yui Susaki. Even the tragic technicality by which she may be denied a medal screams of poetic injustice, almost as though scripted by a hacky Bollywood writer trying to make the ending a tear-jerker.
Vinesh Phogat is a person who has had to overcome more than most. That she has surmounted the odds makes her a symbol, her success something to aspire to. It is a burden that she cannot shed. Because, in a country riddled with inequality, we are hungry for stories of success. But it is equally important that in our addiction to happy endings, we do not forget her road to greatness.
At the time of writing, Phogat’s appeal of her disqualification over not “making weight” before the 50-kg gold medal bout is pending. If it is successful, we will all celebrate — rightly so — her much-deserved medal. Even if it is not, she will likely be (as Sandeep Dwivedi has written in these pages) “called for felicitation functions and may even get cash awards. She would be made to feel like a winner”.
Why aren’t we still angry at her being dragged through the streets for bringing to light alleged sexual harassment at the WFI? Why do we take for granted the fact that the road to success is either to swallow injustice and abuse, or have to face near-impossible odds?
Phogat’s story, of course, is a sad and exceptional one. But even more “normal” journeys to “excellence” carry an unfair burden of expectation in India. Every athlete with a medal chance must play actor, next to billionaire sponsors trying to ride on the patriotism brand for some publicity. Every IAS aspirant in a basement nook, poring over general studies books and newspapers to crack an exam knows just how much the odds are stacked against her. Every JEE aspirant in Kota, whose parents have spent more than they can afford for a chance at generational social and economic mobility, knows the dark side of “aspiration”. Yet, batch after batch, generation upon generation, perseveres. It’s the story and hope every smoker repeats – there’s always the one chimney who lived to 90 and died in their sleep, otherwise healthy.
There are several sound, legitimate arguments in defence of ambition and aspiration. Why shouldn’t success be celebrated and learnt from? What is wrong with striving for the best jobs in the private sector through, say, the IITs and the power, prestige and financial security of working for one of the All-India Services? Why shouldn’t a young man or woman want to be a doctor? The services that crop up to service these ambitions – the coaching centres – and the advertisements that celebrate them are useful for at least three reasons.
First, they are merely supplying a demand. There would be no Kota, no Rajinder Nagar, without people willing to pay for it. Second, in a country of deep inequality, these stories provide hope and succour. Third, it is the success stories, and their brand value, that keep these shops running and in the case of sport, draw in private investments.
All these points are well taken, if they are taken without context.
“Mummy, papa I can’t do JEE so I suicide. I am loser. I am worst daughter. Sorry mummy papa. Yahi last option hai.” Too many of us have forgotten the final note by Niharika Singh, the 18-year-old IIT “aspirant” who committed suicide in Kota in January. Just as we are trying to forget that very little might have changed at the WFI. The toppers of entrance exams will be celebrated, those who have cleared UPSC will be front-and-centre in ads by the coaching centres. Kota will thrive, as will Rajinder Nagar. And Vinesh Phogat will be held up as an example, while those who wronged her will continue — through proxies — to exercise power, without consequences.
This forgetting is only partly deliberate. If we actually look at the hurdles to success for the vast majority of Indians, we will realise that the feel-good story is just a high that blinds us to the fact that there are so few avenues and opportunities. Outside of the government, where can the young — the 324 million Indians under 25, the demographic dividend — find secure employment? If they were not virtuosos on the mat, statistically, given their background, what would the fate of Haryana’s women wrestlers have been?
Vinesh Phogat had said that an Olympic medal would be her reply to those who hounded her and tried to silence her. But for a technicality, she has already proved her point. She is a dedicated sportsperson who has gone through a lot. But precisely because stories of triumph are so rare in India, she will always be more than the sum of her parts. We need her story — it is, after all, one of inspiration in the land of a million tragedies.
aakash.joshi@expressindia.com
