Vinesh Phogat is lying on top of her cousin sister Sangeeta Phogat. They are on the road, and they're surrounded by police who're looking to prise them apart by dint of pure force. In the wrestlers' hands, a stick, and attached to it, the national flag of the Republic of India. It, like them, is lying helplessly on the floor.
Close your eyes now, and take a trip down memory lane. Rewind all the way back to a year ago. It's the 2022 Commonwealth Games.
Vinesh Phogat is standing on the wrestling mat, and she's smiling. She's wearing India blue and has INDIA in all caps on her chest. Raised above her head is the national flag. It's flying; she's giving it the wind it deserves.
*****
If ever an image defined the sporting year of a nation, it was that first one... the pain, the chaos, the dogged unwillingness to let go of the national flag. In this 76th year of independence that just passed us by, it was a reminder: That second image of the flag, the one that's flying, the one that's being fêted doesn't come about without the first.
You see, freedom was always won through struggle, through bitter fighting, through a stubborn refusal to accept the status-quo, through sacrifice. The freedom to celebrate, even more so.
Now, it's easy to be cynical here, downright furious even. What was even the need for that first image to occur? Why should the police manhandle people (forget that they are athletes who bring glory to the nation worldwide) who are protesting the inaction of authorities against a man who's been accused of sexual abuse and mental torture? Why should our wrestlers have to take to the streets to attempt to right a wrong that should never have been allowed to occur in the first place? But that would be a naïve anger.
The world's not perfect and it's only ever made better, however slightly, by those willing to put themselves on the line. Through the best part of 2023, that's what some of India's most decorated wrestlers attempted to do. Once again, it'd be easy to look at images of Brij Bhushan Sharan Singh waltzing into court with the pomp of a feudal lord and be disgruntled. What was the point, you could ask. Well... they tried, and they keep on keeping on.
Isn't that all we can do, really?
It's because a few people tried, because a populace soon joined them in a great collective uprising, because they all sacrificed plenty that the tricolour was first hoisted atop the Red Fort on August 15, 1947. Independence wasn't handed over to us because that was the right thing to do. It was done because this nation's people fought, they tried, they sacrificed.
That perseverance to try, and try, and try some more, despite the innumerable obstacles thrown in front of them has become the motto of the Indian sportsperson. Take these wrestlers for instance: women wrestlers to this day have to fight social taboos to just win the right to compete, even when athletes like Vinesh and Sangeeta have made it an easier path by pioneering the battle.
And it's not just them. It's everyone. Take the nation's women footballers, who continue to grow despite a system that barely remembers they are there. The compound archers, who ignore the seemingly total lack of national recognition and go on to become world champions. The track cyclists, who navigate broken tracks and abusive coaches to contend at a global stage. The volleyball players, who have to pay their own way to play for the country, who constantly fight an administration that is all red taped dead-ends. The track and field athletes who take the stereotype that Indians can't possibly run fast, or leap long, or throw far, and by force of individual character turn it on its head. The special athletes, who fight social barriers, personal handicaps, and antiquated thoughts to embody the true sportsperson's spirit, who battle just to represent India.
There are supports systems now, where once there none. Many federations are improving their way of functioning, however slowly. There are leagues now that cater to sports from basketball to arm wrestling, from table tennis to handball and volleyball. There are avenues opening up for professional sportspeople that they could only have dreamt of a few years ago.
This is progress. Slow, and perhaps a bit infuriating, but steady. And it's only possible because these athletes keep trying, keep fighting. Whether it's society, the police or the greed of the authorities that's trying to pull them back into mediocrity, they fight. Flag in their hand. Voices raised. Day-in and day-out, they fight for the freedom to live the life they crave.
Even then, though, it comes with a ceiling. All the leagues, all the money coming in, all the endorsements and the popularity can lift athletes but only up to a certain level. Win, praise everyone above you, and go about your business and all's well.... Essentially, 'shut up and dribble if you know what's good for you'. Raise questions, fight for basic rights and you go from winners and 'pride of the nation' to troublemakers and good-for-nothing loafers. The wrestlers learned that the hard way... but you know what? They didn't care. They fought, and fought and continue to fight.
And that's the only way any real change can possibly come about: ask India's freedom fighters. Like them, our best wrestlers knew without sacrifice nothing happens, nobody listens, no one cares. And so, they put their careers on the line, at their very peak, and somehow brought about a dent in the system. Just a dent, but they took someone so far above them on the traditional socio-political ladder to court. That's a win.
In a month's time, Bajrang Punia may well raise the Indian flag above his head again in Huangzhou. Or a year's time in Paris for Vinesh. When they do, this nation will unite in celebration, because our athletes' victories are automatically ours.
But it would serve us well to remember that when they are down-and-out, when they have their backs against the wall, we must be there for them too.... We just have to think about the time a few months ago when they, and our flag, lay battered on the streets of the national capital. A reminder of that great life lesson, lest we forget: that celebration, that freedom to celebrate, was a hard-fought victory. Let's applaud that struggle, that fight, as much as we do the glittering metal that comes at the end.
So the next time someone raises their voice, maybe ask why; maybe catch yourself cussing them out and recollect the basic founding ethos of this republic: without struggle, there is no freedom.