top of page

By:

Prithvi Asthana

20 August 2025 at 5:20:30 pm

From Promise to Oblivion

Vaibhav Sooryavanshi A nation that has built formidable capabilities in space exploration, infrastructure, defence and technology has long possessed the raw ingredients to become a sporting powerhouse. Yet, beyond cricket, India’s record on the global sporting stage has remained an enduring paradox. The world’s most populous country has millions of young athletes, immense physical talent and a hunger for recognition, but the journey from promise to podium has often proved far more difficult...

From Promise to Oblivion

Vaibhav Sooryavanshi A nation that has built formidable capabilities in space exploration, infrastructure, defence and technology has long possessed the raw ingredients to become a sporting powerhouse. Yet, beyond cricket, India’s record on the global sporting stage has remained an enduring paradox. The world’s most populous country has millions of young athletes, immense physical talent and a hunger for recognition, but the journey from promise to podium has often proved far more difficult than the journey from talent to fame. The latest symbol of India’s sporting possibilities is teenage batting sensation Vaibhav Sooryavanshi. At just 15, the left-handed opener has announced himself with the kind of confidence and brilliance that usually belongs to seasoned international players. His dream start continued when he recently played a starring role in India’s 3-0 T20I series sweep over Zimbabwe, scoring 151 runs in three matches at an average of 50.33, including two half-centuries. His performances earned him the ‘Player of the Series’ award and produced a stunning 230-place jump in the ICC Men’s T20I batting rankings, taking him into the top 50. Sooryavanshi’s rise has revived a familiar Indian sporting dream: that of discovering a generational talent who can dominate the world stage. But Indian sporting history also carries a cautionary tale. For every prodigy who reaches the summit, several others disappear somewhere along the climb. Beyond Brilliance The making of a champion requires more than individual brilliance. Behind every successful athlete lies an ecosystem of coaches, federations, administrators, medical support, infrastructure and financial security. When one part of that chain breaks, even extraordinary talent can fade away. India’s sporting landscape has repeatedly produced athletes who appeared destined for greatness but were stopped by injuries, administrative failures, poor planning, distractions or simply the unforgiving nature of elite competition. The public reaction adds another layer to this cycle. Indian athletes are celebrated as national heroes when they win medals, but the same spotlight can become harsh when performances decline. Expectations rise faster than the systems required to sustain them. Asha Roy The stories of Asha Roy and Somdev Devvarman illustrate this complicated journey — athletes who reached the threshold of greatness but could not fully realise the promise they carried. Asha Roy’s story once represented the possibility of an Indian athletics revolution. Born into a poor family in Ghanshyampur, West Bengal, where her father worked as a vegetable seller, Roy’s journey was built on extraordinary hardship. She trained despite limited resources, sometimes pushing through exhausting sessions with little more than a banana for recovery. Her determination produced early results. She won medals at school-level competitions and announced herself nationally with silver medals in the 100 metres and long jump at the 2006 Junior Athletics Championships. By 2011, she had emerged as one of India’s brightest sprinting prospects, winning gold medals in both the 100m and 200m at the National Athletics Championships. Her progress continued. She won the 200m gold at the Indian Grand Prix in 2013 and claimed silver at the Asian Athletics Championships. Coaches and experts began viewing her as a genuine medal contender. National sprint coach Tarun Saha believed she had the ability to challenge the best and had planned international exposure for her ahead of the Commonwealth Games. For a brief period, Asha Roy appeared to represent the future of Indian sprinting. Then came the setback that changed everything. During preparations for the 2016 Rio Olympics, Roy suffered a spinal cord injury at the national training camp in Bengaluru. The injury prevented her from continuing at the required intensity and eventually forced her away from elite competition. The sprinter who once carried India’s medal hopes eventually moved into a railway job secured through her sporting achievements. Her career became a reminder that talent alone cannot overcome the physical demands of elite sport without sustained support and luck. Failed Revolution In the early 2010s, Somdev Devvarman convinced many Indians that the country could finally produce a world-class tennis player. At a time when Indian tennis was searching for a successor to its doubles legends, Devvarman looked capable of breaking into the singles elite. Somdev Devvarman Raised near Chennai, Devvarman moved to the United States and attended the University of Virginia, where he created tennis history. He won consecutive NCAA singles titles in 2007 and 2008 and became the only player to reach three successive NCAA finals. His 44-1 record in the 2008 NCAA season remains one of the most remarkable achievements in collegiate tennis. At the 2009 Chennai Open, he received a wildcard entry and produced a stunning run, defeating former world No. 1 Carlos Moya before reaching the final. Suddenly, Indian tennis fans saw a potential singles star. Devvarman delivered further evidence of his ability. He won singles and doubles gold at the 2010 Asian Games and secured singles gold at the Commonwealth Games the same year. He reached the second round of all four Grand Slams, a rare achievement among Indian players, entered the third round of the Miami Masters twice and reached the fourth round of Indian Wells in 2011, where he faced Rafael Nadal. His fighting spirit made him a valuable Davis Cup player, and he eventually achieved a career-high ATP ranking of No. 62. But the demands of professional tennis eventually caught up. A serious shoulder injury in 2011 disrupted his momentum. Although he returned after surgery and even received the ATP Comeback Player of the Year award alongside Rafael Nadal in 2013, the injury affected more than his physical ability. It diminished the hunger and intensity that had been his greatest weapon. In an interview with ESPN, Devvarman admitted that the motivation and fighting spirit that defined his game had gradually faded. By 2017, he retired from professional tennis. His career was not a ‘failure’ in the sense of the word. Reaching the top 100 in men’s singles tennis from India is an extraordinary achievement. But for a country that had imagined him as the player who would transform Indian tennis, his story became another example of potential left partially unfulfilled. The journeys of Roy and Devvarman underline a larger truth about Indian sport: producing talent is only the beginning. The challenge is protecting it, nurturing it and creating an environment where promise can survive the pressures of global competition. Vaibhav Sooryavanshi’s rise is still being written. Whether he becomes the exception or joins the long list of unfinished sporting stories will depend not only on his talent, but also on the ecosystem around him. The Harder they Fall India’s struggle with doping has remained one of the uncomfortable contradictions of its sporting ambitions. A country capable of producing world-class athletes has repeatedly faced criticism over weak anti-doping awareness, poor monitoring systems and inadequate athlete education. Narsingh Yadav The consequences are often devastating. A single failed test can erase years of preparation and transform a promising athlete into a cautionary tale. In some cases, the athletes have maintained that they were victims of contamination or conspiracy; in others, disciplinary lapses and poor decision-making compounded the damage. Two high-profile examples - wrestler Narsingh Pancham Yadav and cricketer Prithvi Shaw - show how quickly sporting promise can unravel. Yadav appeared to be one of India’s brightest wrestling prospects. Hailing from Uttar Pradesh, he rose through the ranks with impressive performances and won gold at the 2010 Commonwealth Games. His bronze medal at the 2015 World Wrestling Championships secured his qualification for the Rio Olympics 2016, putting him on the verge of the biggest moment of his career. Then, in June 2016, just weeks before the Olympics, Yadav failed two out-of-competition doping tests conducted on June 25 and July 5. He tested positive for methandienone, an anabolic steroid associated with muscle growth and enhanced performance. Yadav denied intentionally taking any banned substance and alleged that he had been the victim of a conspiracy aimed at preventing him from representing India. The National Anti-Doping Agency (NADA) accepted his explanation and cleared him, but the decision was challenged by the World Anti-Doping Agency (WADA). The case went to the Court of Arbitration for Sport (CAS), which overturned the clearance and imposed a four-year ban. The verdict came just a day before Yadav was scheduled to begin his Olympic campaign in Rio and his Olympic dream disappeared overnight. Whether viewed as a case of deliberate doping, contamination or administrative failure, the episode highlighted the fragile nature of an athlete’s career. Years of sacrifice can be undone by a single controversy, leaving little room for redemption. Pritvi Shaw Few young cricketers in India have carried as much expectation as Prithvi Shaw. A Mumbai prodigy who captained India to victory at the 2018 Under-19 World Cup, Shaw was seen as the next great batting talent. Comparisons with Sachin Tendulkar arrived almost immediately, reflecting the extraordinary expectations placed on him. His international debut appeared to justify the hype. Shaw scored a century in his first Test match against the West Indies, becoming one of India’s youngest centurions. His aggressive style and natural timing suggested the arrival of a rare talent. But his progress soon stalled. In 2019, the Board of Control for Cricket in India imposed an eight-month suspension on Shaw after he tested positive for terbutaline, a substance prohibited under anti-doping rules. Shaw maintained that the positive result came from accidental ingestion of a cough syrup containing the banned substance. The ban interrupted his momentum at a crucial stage of his career. After returning, questions emerged not only about his form but also his discipline and professionalism. During India’s 2020-21 tour of Australia, Shaw’s technical struggles became a major talking point after he was dropped from the Test side. Captain Ajinkya Rahane publicly criticised his approach during a warm-up match, while Delhi Capitals coach Ricky Ponting later spoke about concerns regarding his training habits and attitude. Off-field controversies, including the incident involving social media influencer Sapna Gill, further added to the perception of a career losing direction. Shaw’s story remains unfinished, but the gap between his extraordinary early promise and his subsequent struggles has become a reminder that talent alone does not guarantee success. The stories of Yadav and Shaw underline a larger lesson in Indian sport: elite performance requires not only ability but also education, discipline, institutional support and careful management. A promising athlete can rise quickly but without the right ecosystem, the fall can be just as rapid. Undone by the System Talent can take an athlete to the doorstep of greatness, but it is the sporting ecosystem that decides whether he or she can walk through it. Many promising careers have ended because athletes were forced to battle a second opponent outside the arena - bureaucracy. Arpinder Singh From delayed approvals and inadequate support to disputes with federations and inconsistent selection policies, several athletes have found themselves trapped in a system that was expected to help them succeed. For some like Arpinder Singh and Dipa Karmakar, the damage was irreversible. Arpinder Singh was once regarded as the future of Indian athletics. A naturally gifted triple jumper from Punjab, he rose rapidly and became a national record holder, emerging as one of India’s strongest medal hopes in track and field. His breakthrough came when he won gold at the 2014 Commonwealth Games, announcing himself as an athlete capable of competing at the highest level. But his career soon encountered a problem that had little to do with his ability. Ahead of the 2016 Rio Olympics, Arpinder wanted to train under British coach Jeremy Fischer, whose expertise had helped develop elite triple jumpers. International exposure and specialised coaching were considered essential if he was to bridge the gap with the world’s best. However, approval from the Athletics Federation of India (AFI) was delayed. The uncertainty disrupted his preparation at a critical stage. Without the training environment he believed he needed, Arpinder struggled to regain his best form. In 2016, he failed to cross the 16-metre mark consistently and eventually missed qualification for the Rio Olympics. While the country has improved its support structures in recent years, delays in decision-making have historically cost athletes their most valuable resource - time. Dipa Karmakar Hailing from Tripura, a state without a deep gymnastics’ tradition, Karmakar achieved something no Indian woman had done before when she qualified for an Olympic gymnastics’ final at the 2016 Rio Games. Her fourth-place finish in the vault final, narrowly missing a bronze medal, turned her into a national icon. But behind the historic achievement was a long struggle against limited resources. Gymnastics is one of the most demanding Olympic disciplines, requiring access to world-class equipment, specialised coaches, sports science support and injury management. Karmakar often trained with inadequate facilities compared to global competitors. Yet she reached the highest level through extraordinary determination. Even at the Olympics, reports emerged that the Sports Authority of India had questioned expenses related to sending a physiotherapist and psychologist with her, treating such support as an avoidable cost rather than an investment in performance. After Rio, injuries interrupted her career. She underwent major surgery and struggled to return to her earlier form. In 2021, she also received a four-year suspension after testing positive for a banned substance, though she maintained that the violation was not intentional. Her comeback was remarkable. In 2023, Karmakar topped the Asian Games selection trials, proving that she still possessed the ability to compete. Yet her name was excluded from the final squad after she did not meet selection criteria laid down by the sports authorities. After years of fighting injuries, controversies and institutional obstacles, Karmakar announced her retirement in 2024. Her career remains one of Indian sport’s most inspiring and frustrating stories — a reminder that extraordinary athletes can emerge even from weak systems, but they should not have to overcome the system itself. While Sushil Kumar and Yogeshwar Dutt benefited from stronger wrestling structures, several other wrestlers have complained over the years about selection disputes and administrative battles. In athletics, athletes have frequently raised concerns about inadequate international exposure and inconsistent support. In boxing, controversies over selection and federation management have repeatedly affected Olympic preparations. A country may discover extraordinary talent, but unless its institutions protect that talent, many future champions will remain stories of what could have been.

Bharat’s Jetson Cities, Light-years Away from Nature

Updated: Jan 20, 2025

Jetson Cities

One thing is for certain: our Bharatiya cities, the big metros and towns, are fast becoming like the ‘Jetson’ cities. For those who are unaware of Jetson cities, these were first shown in the famous Hanna-Barbera cartoon series, the Jetsons, set in the 2100s, where cities are air-tight glass globules tethered to the ground, and the only way to get in and out are the flying cars. Yes, we, the city-dwellers, aspire to tall skyscrapers, spectacular bridges, world-class tunnels, swooshing metro trains, and we are building Jetson-like flying cars. A few HD drone images here and there, during the day and at night and around twilight, and we are content that our cities have become the cynosure of our own eyes. We want our cities to be brightly lit, with neon signs, laser shows, and large billboard videos. We would then fulfil our inner desire to have a city on par with Tokyo, New York, and Shanghai.


Our buildings, designed for the next 30 years, are well air-conditioned, shielding occupants from a soupy dust bowl of brown smog, soot, particulate matter, and fine dust. It is said that most new home buyers invest at least 10% of their property’s price in enhancing the interiors, soundproofing their homes, using air purifiers and conditioners, and disconnecting from the outside world for that much-needed solace. Indeed, large builders promote their projects as close to nature amidst tranquillity. However, there is always another builder eager to get one plot of land ahead of yours to enjoy that nature. To be truthful, access to nature now comes at a premium - even the skies.


Let’s assume the working-age population is occupied in the leisure of our Jetson cities, but how many of their young school and college-going kids have seen the long arm of the Milky Way galaxy from their cities? How many have witnessed a comet zooming by? How many know about endemic plants with medicinal properties? When did they last see a chirping house sparrow? How many know that the nearest sewage drain was once a freshwater stream? When did they last find their suburban beach prettier than the resort beaches of Maldives?


The intent to ask these questions is simple: Bharat is currently at a crossroads. Pundits are enthusiastic about a cultural renaissance on the horizon. Corporate leaders, on the other hand, want us to invest hundreds of hours each week to pay our dues to the growth of the national GDP. But no one asks, if a cultural renaissance is to occur, who will generate the new understandings and insights of nature that arise typically during such a period of human advancement? No one is actually asking, for whom are we building the nation if there is no time for children, or worse, if there is no time or intent to have children. In the process of growing rich, we are about to become old. By 2047, 65% of the population under the age of 35 will grow beyond 35 all at once, and we’d have an enormous population in advanced ages with a tapering young population, a graph that looks like a banyan tree. Unfortunately, that young population will have no access to the knowledge that nature has to offer, neither flora and fauna nor the seas and the skies.


Our urbane lifestyles need tempering. Such tempering can occur only if we ensure the revival of natural sciences during this period of cultural renaissance and nation-building. Let’s not rely solely on the educational system. With Indian Knowledge Systems, constructive changes are underway, and academic curricula are poised to improve for the greater good. However, true knowledge arises only when parents and grandparents introduce children to nature. Genuine understanding also develops from extracurricular activities in schools and colleges that encourage kids to observe, journal, and act on their discoveries. On the positive side, our country’s forest cover is increasing, as announced by the government. However, efforts must be made to ensure that every school or college, whether in Mumbai, Vijayawada, Gorakhpur, Ratlam, Thrissur, Bhuj, Faridabad, Imphal, Manali, Cuttack, or Ajmer, guarantees that their students are well aware of the endemic nature of their surroundings and are regularly observing and recording data on whatever interests them. Let kids observe rivers and understand the volume of water that flows through them. Let children learn about the decline of house sparrows in their cities and what steps should be taken to revive their populations. Let them study the bees in their nearby groves and recognise the vital role these bees play in nature.


Of course, you need to learn AI, robotics, fintech, the next generation of management courses, and all the engineering bells and whistles. However, we must not leave the next generation with inadequate comprehension and skills for understanding nature. We must ensure that nature conservation is not merely lip service or a tool for politicised green activists. This can be achieved if natural sciences are given the respect they deserve at the school, undergraduate, and postgraduate levels.


Indeed, I am a plebeian, and you might feel that you, too, could write a rant about the plight of our urban lives. Urban development and municipal experts have many solutions to propose, but few are willing to take action. However, that is not the issue I wish to highlight. I aim to illustrate a much larger concern—that Indian city dwellers are disoriented and devoid of nature, lacking a guiding star to lead them toward a brighter future. Our cities of Mumbai, Delhi, Bengaluru, Ahmedabad, Kolkata, and Chennai have taken on characteristics reminiscent of Jetson-like cities. We show little regard for the Nagar Devata, Gram Devata, and Van Devata, who have protected the cities, towns, and forests that once surrounded us. We wait for formal governance to clean up our beaches, rivers, and ponds without making sufficient efforts to prevent pollution in the first place.


For those striving to grasp spirituality not through the Puranas and Aadi-Granth but through new-age podcasts, I recommend watching Vinay Varanasi’s podcast on Bhagavan Vishnu’s Dashavatar. If it is clear that Bhagavan Vishnu does not tolerate disregard for Bhudevi or Mother Earth, why do we, the devotees of Bhagavan Vishnu, continue to pollute our Mother Earth—her air, soil, waters, and sounds? Or have we taken Elon Musk's words at face value, assuming our next destination is Mars after destroying Earth, only to ruin Mars later, even worse than its current clinically sterile state? If that is the case, then bear with me when I say this: these Jetson cities stand on precarious pillars of ego, victimhood, apathy, and consumerism, waiting to be toppled either by the true harbingers of order or by false prophets. Therefore, teach the next generations to observe nature, appreciate our coexistence with other species, and venerate the forces of nature. By doing so, we humans will be good, at least for the next thousand years. If not, prepare for a bleak future by the end of this century.


(The author is a Space and Emerging Technology Fellow at the Centre for Security, Strategy and Technology, Observer Research Foundation, Mumbai. Views personal.)

Comments


bottom of page