Para-athletes merit a level playing field

While India’s para-athletes bring glory overseas, they face an uphill battle against indifference at home.

In the scorching summer of 2024, while the Seine river shimmered under the bright Parisian sunlight, a group of Indians were making history. At the Paralympic Games, India’s para-athletes hauled in 29 medals - seven gold, nine silver and 13 bronze, finishing 18th out of 169 nations. It was not merely their finest Paralympic performance; it was also a trouncing of their able-bodied counterparts, who returned from the Olympics with just six medals - none of them gold - and a humbling 71st-place finish.

In Paris, the tricolour rose often, carried not by familiar sporting celebrities but by athletes whose grit redefined excellence. And yet, in the streets and stadiums back home, the cheers remained muted. Public adulation, which is usually lavished on able-bodied stars, rarely strayed toward those who had achieved as much, or more, in arenas far from the limelight. As India prepares to host the 12th World Para Athletics Championship in Delhi from September 27 to October 5, 2025, the question that looms is why do the nation’s para-athletes continue to remain in the shadows?

Glaring Discrimination

The disparity is glaring. Last month, the Neeraj Chopra Classic in Bengaluru drew some 15,000 spectators, their chants echoing through the stands for the Olympic javelin champion. Days later, in the same city, Sumit Antil, a two-time Paralympic gold medallist and world-record holder in javelin, competed in the Indian Open Para Athletics Championship before mostly empty seats.

The gulf is not confined to athletics. Shooters such as Manu Bhaker, whose Olympic medals adorn television commercials and billboards, enjoy household recognition. Yet Avani Lekhara, who, like Bhaker, competes in shooting, but with the added distinction of winning two Paralympic golds, remains a name known to few outside sporting circles.

This is not simply about fame. Para-athletes must fight a contest twice over - on the field, against their competitors and off it, against the weight of social neglect and ingrained bias. While their victories are feats of athletic talent, they are also living proof of how inclusion and opportunity can yield world-beating results.

True Grit

The backstories of India’s Paralympic champions read like epics of resilience. Sheetal Devi, born without arms, taught herself to draw a bow with her legs; in Paris, she claimed a bronze in archery. Avani Lekhara, paralysed in a car accident at the age of 11, rose to the top of her sport with unerring precision. Sumit Antil, whose right leg was amputated after a road accident, has repeatedly rewritten the javelin world record. Harvinder Singh, struck by dengue as an infant and left with impairments, battled through the ranks to win Paralympic archery gold.

These are not tales of “overcoming disability” in the narrow, sentimental sense that the media sometimes peddles. They are about agency—of athletes refusing to be defined by the limitations others expect of them, and instead setting new definitions for themselves.

Such triumphs are won despite a system that offers para-athletes less of nearly everything: funding, facilities, corporate sponsorships, and basic accessibility. The 2011 Census estimated India’s disabled population at 26.8 million. However, newer unofficial estimates suggest the true figure could exceed 60 million. The 2021 Census might have provided clarity had it been conducted.

Yet, disability-inclusive infrastructure remains an afterthought. Most schools lack accessible sports facilities. Public transport remains a labyrinth of barriers. Participation in physical education for differently-abled children is the exception, not the rule.

Some schemes do exist. The Target Olympic Podium Scheme (TOPS) has expanded to include para-athletes. Non-profits such as the GoSports Foundation provide training grants and mentorship. Yet the depth and breadth of institutional support still lags far behind that lavished on able-bodied athletes. “Para-athletes don’t need sympathy; they need systems,” says coach Satyanarayana, who has worked with several Paralympic medallists.

Financial disparity is as telling as it is demoralising. In state after state, cash awards for para-athletes are smaller than for their Olympic peers. Corporate endorsements are rare. Media coverage, when it comes, is fleeting, mere spikes of attention during global events, followed by long silences.

Cultural Barriers

The biggest barrier may be cultural. In a country where cricket stars can rival film actors in mass adoration, recognition for para-athletes is scarce currency. The fastest route to changing this lies through endorsement and example. Imagine Virat Kohli fronting a campaign with Avani Lekhara, or Neeraj Chopra mentoring Sumit Antil in a public training series. Such gestures would not merely validate achievements; they would normalise the presence of para-sport in the mainstream.

The media’s role is equally critical. Beyond occasional “inspirational” features, para-sport merits the same sustained storytelling accorded to other disciplines like season previews, expert commentary and full-length documentaries. The Delhi Championships offer an ideal hook for such coverage. The question is whether editors will seize it.

For para-athletes from rural India, the journey is doubly hard. Many hail from areas where sports facilities are non-existent, prosthetics are prohibitively expensive, and trained coaches are scarce. Often, their ascent is propelled by personal grit and family sacrifice rather than institutional backing.

The policy prescriptions are straightforward enough. Introduce para-sport into school curricula. Mandate accessible playgrounds. Organise inclusive inter-school tournaments. And get corporations involved, not just as a Corporate Social Responsibility box-ticking exercise, but as genuine investors in human potential.

Equal recognition is not charity; it is justice. These are not ‘lesser’ athletes. They are, in many cases, more accomplished than their better-known peers, having reached the podium from a starting point of deep physical and social disadvantage.

Tangible Action

Delhi’s hosting of the World Para Athletics Championship in 2025 will be more than a sporting fixture. It will be a test of whether India can match its rhetoric about inclusivity with tangible action. The ingredients for transformation are all there: an unprecedented medal haul, a swelling pool of talent, and a marquee event on home soil. What remains to be seen is whether the country’s sports establishment and its public will rise to the occasion.

A successful championship would mean more than packed stands and medals. It would mean breaking the cycle in which para-athletes are remembered briefly and then forgotten. It would mean creating pipelines that allow disabled children to dream of and realistically train for international glory. And it would mean changing the perception of para-sport from a niche pursuit to an integral part of the national sporting identity.

If India’s para-athletes can overcome the loss of limbs, the absence of facilities, and the indifference of sponsors to reach the pinnacle of their sports, surely the rest of the country can overcome its own inertia. That requires more than applause; it demands sustained investment, visibility and respect.

Beyond medals, they have already won something rarer in sport: the moral high ground. Now, they deserve the nation’s full-throated cheer not only in moments of victory, but in the long seasons in between.

(The writer is a former banker based in Bengaluru. Views personal.)