© IE Online Media Services Pvt Ltd
Tags:
Journalism of Courage
In a country where wrestling has long been considered the domain of men, Sonika Kaliraman, daughter of legendary wrestler Master Chandgi Ram, shattered not just stereotypes but the very foundations of the sport. “I wasn’t the ideal wrestling candidate — skinny, frail, and buckling under performance pressure. I’d collapse from intense training, and a heart condition had me fainting after every bout. Supplements were my lifeline, but quitting was never an option. My journey to becoming India’s first competitive woman wrestler was fueled by grit, blood, sweat, and tears,” recalls Kaliraman. Her father’s dream was to see his three daughters wrestle, a vision he pursued despite societal norms and resistance from the Indian Wrestling Foundation. In 2000, Kaliraman won gold at the Asian Women’s Wrestling Championship and was crowned the first Bharat Kesari, a prestigious freestyle competition organised by the Haryana Government.
“When I started wrestling in the late ’90s, the sport for women was undervalued, with organisers cutting costs,” she recalls. “My father compared men to wolves and women to sheep, urging us to outsmart the predators to prove our worth. We faced many challenges, such as stones being thrown during a village bout in Palwal and being labeled abla-nari (helpless women).” Despite these obstacles, Kaliraman persevered. She fought for equal prize money at the Rajiv Gandhi Gold Tournament in Delhi in 2000 by appealing to then chief minister Sheila Dixit and ensured that proper gear for women wrestlers was developed by Shiv Naresh, one of India’s first sports brands. “I embraced it all, becoming what I call the mannequin of women’s wrestling in Haryana,” Kaliraman laughs.
Women’s wrestling made headlines again as Vinesh Phogat stormed into the finals of the 50 kg category at the Paris Olympics on August 6, 2024. The nation cheered, social media buzzed, and the struggles of women wrestlers, once overlooked, were thrust back into the spotlight. Phogat’s journey, like those of other women in wrestling, was more than just a headline—it was a relentless fight for recognition in a male-dominated sport. She dedicated 25 years to wrestling, won golds at the 2014, 2018, and 2022 Commonwealth Games, and represented India at three Olympics.
Claiming space in the akhada (a traditional wrestling pit) has always been tough for Indian women. Sports scholar Jamie Schultz, in her book Women’s Sports: What Everyone Needs to Know, observes that the intense, aggressive nature of combat sports has historically kept women out, reinforcing these spaces as male preserves.
The origins of wrestling are uncertain, with limited evidence to determine whether it originated in India or elsewhere. One of the earliest depictions of wrestling is found in wall paintings in the Beni Hasan tombs in Egypt, dating to 2100 BCE. Interestingly, the nomenclature also provides some clues. The term pahalvan (wrestler) comes from pahlava, the name of a Parthian tribe in Iran around 250 BCE, while kushti has Persian origins. Greek literature and historical records also reveal a rich tradition of wrestling in ancient Greece.
In India, wrestling has deep historical roots, with significant mentions in epics like the Ramayana and the Mahabharata. It was integral to princely training, linking a king’s physical prowess to the kingdom’s well-being. The 12th-century text Manasollasa is an early reference to royal wrestling at the court of Chalukya king Someswara III. Mughal records, such as the Baburnama and Akbarnama, describe a style that blends Persian techniques with traditional North Indian malla-yudhha, a Sanskrit term for combat-wrestling.
Initially, the sport was well received by the British. However, they later objected when it became a symbol of nationalist resistance during the freedom struggle. A key figure in this militant nationalist physical culture was Sarala Debi in Bengal. The niece of Tagore, Debi wrote pamphlets urging Bengalis to use wrestling as a means to combat British prejudice.
Today’s Indian wrestling blends the Persian style introduced by the Mughals with traditional Hindu techniques. The shift to the mat format, aligned with Olympic protocols, occurred towards the end of the 20th century. According to Rudraneil Sengupta’s book, Enter the Dangal, the first mat was introduced to a private akhada in India in 1979, with a second added at Chhatrasal Stadium in New Delhi in 1992. Sengupta further observes, “wrestling in India now is dominated by the northern states — Haryana, Delhi, Punjab, Uttar Pradesh and Maharashtra…the southern states of India, as well as places like Bihar and Gujarat, can claim a rich history of the sport, but in the present times, wrestling has all but disappeared from these places, surviving only in little pockets.”
In his 1987 study, The Wrestler’s Body: Identity and Ideology in North India, anthropologist Joseph S Alter explored the akhadas in Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh. These wrestling arenas, overseen by gurus, typically included an earthen pit, a well, and a shrine dedicated to Hanuman, the patron deity revered for his strength, energy, and celibacy. Alter noted a cultural belief that women could disrupt young wrestlers’ discipline. As one wrestler is quoted in the book, “The glance of a woman is as dangerous as the bite of a snake.”
This view is also reflected in Sengupta’s work, which portrays wrestling as a benchmark of masculinity and a standard for the ‘alpha male,’ leaving no space for women. He finds that the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) follows similar principles, emphasising rigorous training, physical strength, and celibacy.
To understand the popularity of kushti in modern Haryana, one must consider the military labour market in North India. Haryana’s agricultural castes, known for their strength and loyalty, were prominent recruits for the British Indian Army. Sengupta notes that wrestling became a favoured pastime among these sepoys, leading to the establishment of akhadas in the state. The growing strength and assertiveness of the Jats and Gujjars in Haryana led the British to categorise them as a martial race, in stark contrast to their depiction of the effeminate Bengalis. Consequently, the integration of military and sporting traditions has significantly shaped Haryana’s unique sporting culture.
Suheil Farrell Tandon, founder of Pro Sport Development, a social enterprise dedicated to using sport for the holistic development of youth, notes, “Sporting culture is complex, but it includes role models who inspire participation. These role models don’t need to be Olympians; they can be ordinary individuals, like the girl next door who defies social norms to pursue sports. Different regions in India showcase distinct sports cultures, such as football in Goa, weightlifting in Odisha, and badminton in Mizoram.” Despite this rich sporting culture, women were routinely sidelined. Sonika Kaliraman recalls, “Even though we had an akhada in our house, my sisters and I were never allowed near it. It wasn’t until Master Chandgi Ram’s initiative to promote women in wrestling that we started to see women in akhadas.”
However, their exclusion did not equate to physical inactivity. With men absorbed into the army, women in Haryana took on the bulk of agricultural and animal husbandry work. They also played a crucial role in dairy production during the White Revolution in the 1970s that transformed India into one of the largest producers of dairy products globally.
The White Revolution succeeded the Green Revolution of the 1960s, which propelled the state to the status of the second richest in India. However, starting in the mid-1980s, Haryana faced a crisis characterised by labour shifts, increasing debt, and socio-political upheavals. Historian Prem Chowdhry’s research indicates that these issues widened regional disparities, prompting poor peasants to seek alternative income sources for their children.
In this landscape of economic and social upheaval, Professor Rupal Oza of Hunter College, City University of New York observes the growing prominence of women wrestlers. Her 2018 study, Wrestling Women: Caste and Neoliberalism in Rural Haryana, demonstrates that the neoliberal reforms of the 1990s — marked by privatisation and reduced government welfare — transformed Haryana’s economy and culture. These changes fostered the growth of private wrestling schools, creating new opportunities for women.
The impact of neoliberalism was especially pronounced for Kaliraman, who recalls, “My father showed us posters of India’s first Olympic woman weightlifter, Karnam Malleswari, and Miss World 1997, Diana Hayden, and said, ‘If they can do it, why not you?’” She recollects that the sudden sense of liberation was profoundly overwhelming.
While not everyone was convinced by the sight of women wrestling, Chandgi Ram’s associates were significantly influenced. For instance, Jagroop Rathi, a coach at Chandgi Ram’s akhada, introduced his daughter Neha Rathi to wrestling. Not only did she represent India 42 times internationally but was also honoured with the Arjuna Award, the second-highest sporting honour in India, in 2013. Another coach, Jabbar Singh Sone, pioneered women’s wrestling in Meerut, where his student Alka Tomar won a bronze medal at the 2006 Doha Asian Games, and her sister Anshu Tomar also earned an international medal. Despite these achievements, there was significant societal backlash; in 2013, a village panchayat in Meerut banned women from wrestling.
In contrast, the sport continued to thrive in Haryana. In 2006, the Haryana government introduced a Sports Policy that offered incentives for athletes and coaches, established talent search programmes, and organised women’s sports festivals. Medal-winning players received cash prizes and benefits such as free travel, and athletes also gained horizontal reservation in police jobs.
Additionally, coaches and players’ villages were rewarded: for example, a village with a gold medalist received Rs 2 lakh from the Panchayat, boosting local development and encouraging villagers to support their athletes. Such policies encouraged female participation in sports, leading more parents to support their daughters’ sports careers and enrol them in coaching centres.
The sport gained further momentum when, four years later, Geeta Phogat won India’s first-ever gold medal in wrestling at the 2010 Commonwealth Games. Her achievement, along with Babita Phogat’s victories — a silver medal at the 2010 Commonwealth Games and a bronze at the 2012 World Wrestling Championships — ignited a surge of enthusiasm for women’s wrestling in Haryana. The Phogat sisters were awarded government jobs in recognition of their accomplishments and became the inspiration behind Aamir Khan’s film Dangal, released in 2016.
Wrestling’s popularity in Haryana grew to the point where it began to be favoured over local education, which often suffers from poor teaching quality and limited job prospects. In an interview with indianexpress.com, Duke University Public Policy Professor Anirudh Krishna said, “Successful wrestlers have broader career options, such as coaching and enhanced access to government jobs. For instance, Sakshi Malik became a sub-inspector after her 2016 Olympic success, while others may secure constable positions.” Usha Sharma Sihag, a former wrestler now running a women’s wrestling school in Hisar, Haryana, adds, “When job opportunities are scarce, what’s the point of studying? That’s why many poor women turn to wrestling, boxing, and kabaddi — these sports offer job security.”
Unlike education or other career paths, wrestling transcends power, politics, and privilege. It provides discipline, fame, and potential wealth, where identity on the mat is defined solely by skill. Krishna’s research for his upcoming work, on the infrastructure of opportunities, revealed a structured career path: local akhadas connect to academies founded by wrestlers like Bajrang Punia, which link to government training centres and ultimately feed into the Chhatrasal Stadium, where Olympians train. “This well-defined progression within the wrestling infrastructure offers far more advancement opportunities than many other options in the state” he notes. The sport’s popularity is evident, as it is widely acknowledged that most of India’s female wrestlers hail from Haryana, despite the lack of official statistics.
Vijay Krishnamurthy, Sports Research Scholar and co-author of Get Kids to Play, argues that government job awards should be granted not only for victories but also during training. He suggests that focusing solely on outcomes might deter talented women and marginalised individuals from pursuing sports. “Moreover, many medal-winning athletes stop training after securing a job, revealing the shortsightedness of current policies,” he says.
“Supporting our players consistently is what truly matters; results will follow” Krishnamurthy asserted.
Wrestlers often yearn for this support, as their path to becoming medalists is gruelling and monotonous. They juggle demanding training with societal expectations, including domestic chores and livestock care, which limits time for financial independence. Many rely on their fathers for training costs, a diet rich in milk, ghee, almonds, and sports attire, while forgoing luxuries like love, fast food, and movies. Sports psychologist Nainika Seth notes, “Conventionalism favours the easy and familiar, upholding the status quo, while deviating from it — such as in the case of wrestling women in Haryana — is often seen as rebellious. Challenging norms involves the pressure of proving oneself and justifying the choice to others.”
Seth also highlights training challenges, saying, “Coaches often lack an understanding of women’s bodies and their varying energy levels throughout the menstrual cycle. Training is expected to be consistent despite these fluctuations, impacting energy, weight, and nutrition. Coach education in India is pertinent to build trust and facilitate open discussions about these issues.”
Wrestling women are not just athletes; they are trailblazers, challenging stereotypes and redefining female participation in sports. Despite historic gender parity achieved at the Paris 2024 Olympics, Tandon argues that the focus remains too narrowly on champions and national glory, rather than encouraging broader youth participation. “We’re winning medals from a small pool of athletes while the majority of our population remains on the sidelines,” he notes. Krishnamurthy echoes this concern: “Has the Olympics led to more children playing sports? The grassroots impact is minimal, with half of India still sedentary. How many participate, and how many just watch?”
To drive systemic change, Lisa Travella Murawsky, Sports Director of Project Nanhi Kali, an NGO supporting education for underprivileged girls in India, stresses the need for more women in sports leadership roles. “For sports systems to effectively address the needs of women and girls, women must lead this change,” she asserts. The story of female wrestlers goes beyond headlines of struggle and sacrifice. Twenty-five years after women first entered the akhada, their challenges persist. Their experiences highlight the pressing need for a more inclusive and supportive sports environment.
Further Reading:
The Wrestler’s Body: Identity and Ideology in North India by Joseph S. Alter
Enter the Dangal: Travels Through India’s Wrestling Landscape by Rudraneil Sengupta
Wrestling women: Caste and neoliberalism in rural Haryana by Rupal Oza
The Broken Ladder: The Paradox and the Potential of India’s One Billion by Anirudh Krishna
Masculine Spaces: Rural Male Culture in North India by Prem Chowdhry
