It's tough to tell at what precise moment Bajrang Punia goes from being a wrestler to a cauliflower-eared culinary connoisseur. It’s roughly around the time his brother walks into the room with three giant ladoos. A booming voice from one of the rooms of his sprawling house near Sonepat declares this as Haryana’s ‘national dish.’ Bajrang scoffs and cuts the hyperbole: “Pehelwan ka poshan”. Wrestler’s nutrition. Churma – roti, jaggery, and ghee rolled in the shape and size of a cricket ball – is usually had as breakfast or a post-lunch sweet dish in these parts. But today, it’s the main course. We also have rotis that are generously lathered in ghee, a massive bowl of yellow daal with a dollop of – you guessed it – ghee, with green-chilli-and-garlic chutney, green salad, and curd on the side. There’s far more on the table than anyone can conceivably eat. It’s sumptuous. It’s intimidating. And you feel tricked. You’d agreed on a light meal – whether this is Haryanvi hospitality, killing with kindness, or a wrestler’s idea of ‘light’, one doesn't quite know. But frankly, you don’t even bother. This is heaven on a plate. Bajrang slyly pushes the green salad away, breaks the churma with his fingers and recommends you eat it with the mildly spicy and tangy daal. “And if you can handle spicy, have the chutney with it,” he says. An explosion of flavours – he promises. By this point, we have digressed far away from wrestling. There’s an occasional mention about the Lok Sabha elections and whether there is a Modi leher (wave) this time. But invariably, the conversation veers back to food - he chomps on masala dosa often, but isn’t too fond of it; is a puran poli fan and looks forward to buffet breakfasts at hotels. But nothing tops this – the simple, nutritious food of a simple, agrarian community. A jug of cow's milk to wash down the lunch and he nonchalantly mutters, “abhi toh weight control chalu hai.” They call Bajrang ‘The Tank’ in wrestling circles. It refers to his strength and stamina. To illustrate, Bajrang claims he completed 1065 non-stop dand-baithaks – sit-ups – in 2014. “This food keeps the tank full, provides me with all the nutrition I need,” he says. It's widely believed that no wrestler in the 65kg class can match Bajrang in these two departments, and results of last 12 months back this claim. Bajrang won the Commonwealth and Asiad gold, a World Championship silver and upgraded last year’s Asian Championship bronze to gold last Tuesday. He's scalped three-time world champion Haji Aliyev of Azerbaijan, Ukraine’s Andrey Kviatkovski – a bronze medallist at 2018 Yarygin International in Russia, one of the most competitive events – and twice world bronze medallist Alejandro Tobier of Cuba in the German league. Currently World No.1 in 65kg since April last year, the 25-year-old has lost just one bout in major competitions – the final of the World Championships. At the peak of his powers, he's one of India’s biggest hopes at Tokyo. Bajrang’s coach Shako Bentinidis sees him not as a tank, but something more familiar in this milieu. “He is our tractor that will roll over everyone.” *** To Bajrang, the tractor evokes many memories. In fact, it was an essential part of his early years. Along with oranges, gadaa (blunt mace) and a cinema – Radhika cinema. Bajrang was raised in a humble farming village in Jhajjar where every second house boasts of a pehelwan and his father boasted modest akhara exploits. Gradually, he followed his elder brother onto the mat and by 7, he was part of the crowd of bronze-bodied men wrestling in the mud-pits. “I wasn't even thinking of representing India then,” he says. What drew him to akharas was oranges, an incentive big enough for dozens of children to take up the sport. “Most dangals did not have cash awards,” he says. “As a child, my biggest dream was to win a santra.” Soon, the obsession shifted to winning a gadaa, and as he became a teenaged wrestler of some repute, the prizes evolved to the coveted mace. “Bajrang bali ka hathiyar tha gadaa,” he says. He had to have the mace. So he began travelling across villages in search of that prize. He went on to win 10 – nine of them are kept in the shelf of his living room along with every other medal, one occupies the place of privilege in his bedroom. “Back then, this was my main motivation,” he says, as he fills the application form for this year’s Khel Ratna Award. “Whenever there used to be a dangal, we ride on our tractors and go to watch it. It was a ritual; I’ve skipped school, but I have never missed a dangal.” Especially if it was in Rewari, roughly 50km from Jhajjar. Because that would mean he would pass by a movie hall. Radhika cinema was the only theatre in the region back then that showed Hindi movies. “Badi badi posterein lagti thi baahar. Vahi dekhte the (there were big posters outside the hall. I'd look just at the giant pictures),” he says. In his 25 years, Bajrang has never seen the inside of a movie hall. The Akshay Kumar and Sunny Deol fan watches a few movies on his phone, mostly Punjabi. *** There are dates you generally never forget. Bajrang remembers the date and day he joined a club that became school, college and workplace, all rolled into one. February 12, 2008; Tuesday. The day he walked past those giant steel gates of Chhatrasal Stadium. The akhara at Delhi’s Chhatrasal is to wrestling what the maidans are to Mumbai cricket. Here, they teach you how to combine cunning with courage. They’ll ensure you’re steeped into wrestling’s rich parampara but at the same time, expose you to the daav-pench necessary to deal with the world outside those familiar, comfortable surroundings. It’s a place that prepares you like few others. Representing India is just a matter of time. Bajrang’s exploits in local dangals drew attention of Rampal Singh – then coach of Olympic medallists Sushil Kumar and Yogeshwar Dutt. Bajrang joined Chhatrasal 14 days before his 14th birthday, also the beginning of one of Indian sport's biggest guru-shishya tales. In August 2008, Sushil – a Chhatrasal alumnus – ended India’s 56-year wait for an Olympic medal in wrestling. Everyone at Chhatrasal aspired to be like him. Almost, everyone. “It’s not necessary that you become a fan of someone who wins an Olympic medal,” Bajrang says. “Yes, Sushil won but I never wanted to be like him. My dream was to be like Yogeshwar.” Something in 2006 shaped his view. Dutt won the Asiad bronze in most challenging circumstances. Just nine days before his bout, Dutt had lost his father. He'd also suffered a knee injury and he could barely walk. “To win a medal despite that showed his willpower,” Bajrang says. “At that time, Chhatrasal had some of the best wrestlers. Not just Sushil, we also had Surjit Mann, Ramesh Gulia… India mein unki tod ke kam pehalwan the. But Yogi bhai was at another level.” Dutt took Bajrang under his wings and soon, started making career decisions for him. For instance, after Bajrang won silver at the 2011 cadet world championship in 55kg category, Dutt advised him to jump weight categories, even if it meant not winning a medal for a year. And, in 2012, when he was 18, he began dominating the junior circuit, Dutt recommended him to start competing against seniors. “Those suggestions shaped my career. I am doing well because I started competing at an early age,” Bajrang says. Bajrang started to forge a reputation of never returning empty-handed from a competition. But in trying to be like him, Bajrang made a lot of sacrifices. He competed in the same weight category (60kg) as Dutt so for important tournaments, Bajrang stepped back and let his mentor compete. Later, when the categories were re-jigged by the international federation, Dutt moved to 65kg and Bajrang went up by a kilo to 61. But it wasn’t his preferred category. Whenever Dutt would opt out of a tournament, Bajrang would compete in the 65kg – but those mostly were lower-tier tournaments. The biggest sacrifice was skipping the Rio Olympics altogether. “It wasn’t a sacrifice, no. I can’t even think of competing with him. It doesn’t matter if I finish last, but Yogi bhai has to win,” Bajrang says. “Even if he decides to come back today, I’ll pray for his win. It doesn’t matter what happens to me.” Dutt, however, realises few would’ve done what Bajrang did, especially in the prime of their career. “We had decided that Bajrang would succeed me in 65kg category after the Rio Olympics,” he says. “Bajrang has given up a lot for me. Now, it’s his time.” *** Traditionally, India hasn’t produced many technically sound wrestlers. Most are strong and use the power to their advantage. Sushil, for instance, relied more on strength and speedy footwork than skill. Dutt is a rare exception – he was as technical as they come. Bajrang, despite trying to be like Dutt, ended up being a wrestler in Sushil’s mould. Strength alone would carry him only so far. Bajrang did not have problems winning early rounds. But in medal bouts and against technically superior opponents, he fumbled. There were two obvious shortcomings – a) he got too defensive, which allowed the opponent to take the initiative, and b) unlike Sushil whose feet were forever elusive, he couldn’t protect his legs – especially left leg – which means it was easy for the opponent to clutch and pin him down. Enter Shako Bentinidis - the funny, eccentric Georgian who rattles out spiritual quotes by Sri Sri Ravishankar and soul-stirring dialogues from Gladiator but is frustrated that Bajrang connects with neither. “A little more than a year ago, my then backers, OGQ, said a personal coach would be beneficial for me. I discussed it with (India’s Greco-Roman coach) Kuldeep Singh, who spread the word around. One of the Russian coaches introduced me to Shako in Poland,” Bajrang says. “We hit it off immediately. Both of us had a common target: to win an Olympic medal.” Shako, 43, is holed up in a hotel room in Murthal, a place that’s surrounded by vegetarian dhabas, education institutes and a Sports Authority of India centre. Shako admits it gets boring sometimes, but he has no time to indulge his boredom. In a diary, he has noted everything they’ve done since the first day. And it’s a lot. “The biggest change he has brought is in my training routine. I do not work out in the gym at all. It’s all on the mat – working on speed and technique. To build strength, I lift my sparring partners,” Bajrang says. The emphasis put on technique is already showing results. In the last 12 months, Bajrang has beaten almost every wrestler he had previously lost to. "Sabse badla liya hai." For instance, he had lost to Turkey’s Mustafa Kaya 8-3 at the 2017 World Championships, a revenge he exacted next year with a 15-4 win. “Endurance is my strength. So Shako told me to attack for the entire bout instead of playing defensively. I never did that earlier,” Bajrang says. But Shako isn’t satisfied yet. He’s obsessed with making Bajrang better and stronger every day so that he is better and stronger than everyone else on the day that matters. “He has to explode on the mat like an atom bomb,” Shako says. Not sure about that yet, but some of the things ‘Baji’ does, makes Shako’s head explode on sidelines. Like taking the bout to the very last minute, punting on his stamina to overcome the opponent’s skill. *** In some ways, Bajrang is like MS Dhoni. The India cricketer has worked up a reputation of taking the match till the last over, where he engages the bowler in a one-on-one situation. Bajrang, too, has made this a habit. He’ll drag the bout till the last minute, tire out his opponent and then make the clinching move. At times, he leaves it till too late, as was the case against Kazakhstan’s Sayatbek Okassov in the final of the Asian Championship last week, where he made a comeback in the last 60 seconds. As we are starting to see it with Dhoni, when a plan like this fails, it makes the athlete look miserable. Bajrang has already experienced this at the World Championship last year, where Japanese wrestler Takuto Otoguro gave him no openings to stage a late fight back. Bajrang ended up with a silver. Bajrang’s two key rivals at the Olympics, Otoguro, and Russian Akhmed Chakaev, are both strong defensively. But they aren’t defensive wrestlers. “It’s not good to leave it so late always,” Shako says. “He needs to start attacking earlier in a bout. It’s something we are constantly working on.” *** Bajrang isn’t too big on superstitions. But his obsession to win an Olympic medal has started to make him believe in coincidences. “I was born on Tuesday. I joined Chhatrasal on Tuesday. I won my first World Championship medal on Tuesday,” he says. He is told the Tokyo Olympics final is on a Saturday. Bajrang pauses, smiles, and replies: “Woh bhi toh Bajrang bali ka din hai.”
