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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.

The Dragon’s Green Mask

As Beijing lectures India on ecology in Great Nicobar, its own record in Tibet and the South China Sea tells a rather different story.

There is something theatrical in China’s sudden environmental concern for India’s proposed infrastructure project in Great Nicobar. Beijing and its sympathisers in India have warned darkly of ecological destruction, seismic fragility, threats to indigenous communities and irreversible environmental degradation. One would imagine, listening to these admonitions, that the Chinese state had emerged as the planet’s foremost custodian of fragile ecosystems.


This invites a simpler question: by what ecological authority does China sermonise to others?


Destructive Enterprises

For years, Beijing has undertaken some of the most extensive and environmentally destructive engineering enterprises in Asia. From the Tibetan plateau to the reefs of the South China Sea, China’s strategic ambitions have repeatedly trumped ecological restraint. The contrast between its rhetoric on Great Nicobar and its own conduct elsewhere is striking enough to merit scrutiny.


Consider first the colossal hydropower project China is pursuing on the Yarlung Tsangpo in Tibet (known downstream as the Brahmaputra). The proposed 60,000 MW mega-dam is situated in one of the world’s most geologically unstable regions, near the tectonically volatile Namcha Barwa massif where the Indian and Eurasian plates collide with enormous force. The region has a long history of severe seismic activity, including earthquakes exceeding magnitude 8.


Reservoir-induced seismicity is a recognised phenomenon whereby the immense pressure exerted by billions of cubic metres of stored water can destabilise fault lines and trigger tremors. Landslides, slope failures and catastrophic flooding become ever-present possibilities in such terrain. Downstream nations, especially India and Bangladesh, face additional risks from disrupted sediment flows, altered hydrology and intensified flood vulnerability. If seismic fragility is an argument against development in Great Nicobar, it is difficult to see why the same principle should not apply with equal or greater force to China’s Himalayan mega-projects.


The contradiction becomes even sharper in the South China Sea, where Beijing’s environmental record resembles an assault upon marine geography itself. Over the past decade, China has transformed reefs, shoals and submerged formations into militarised artificial islands through industrial-scale dredging operations. In the Paracel Islands, particularly around Antelope Reef, vast stretches of coral ecosystems have been pulverised to create runways, ports and military infrastructure. Fragile reef systems that took millennia to evolve have been converted into strategic outposts within a few years.


Marine scientists have repeatedly warned that such activities inflict irreversible ecological damage. Dredging operations crush coral reefs, suffocate marine habitats with sediment and destroy spawning grounds essential for regional fish stocks. The plumes generated by cutter-suction dredgers spread over enormous areas, reducing water quality and choking coral polyps beneath layers of silt.


Coral reefs in the South China Sea sustain one of the richest concentrations of marine biodiversity on earth and underpin the livelihoods of millions dependent upon regional fisheries. Their destruction threatens food security across neighbouring coastal states, including the Philippines and Vietnam.


Ecological Apathy

Yet, Beijing has pressed ahead with remarkable indifference. In the Spratly Islands, China’s land-reclamation efforts have reportedly destroyed thousands of acres of reef ecosystems. Entire submerged reef structures have been crushed into sand and redeployed as foundations for artificial landmasses. Satellite imagery analysed by researchers has shown dramatic increases in sediment dispersal and measurable declines in marine biological health around these construction zones.


Nor are the dangers merely ecological. Artificial islands built upon unstable reef formations remain vulnerable to subsidence, typhoons and tectonic stresses. Structures erected atop dynamic maritime geology face continual risks from erosion and storm surges.


Scarborough Shoal offers another example of Beijing’s selective environmentalism. Chinese activities around the shoal have generated persistent concerns regarding coral destruction, habitat loss and destabilisation of sensitive marine ecosystems. Construction in tectonically active maritime regions magnifies the risks of structural collapse and even tsunami vulnerability. Yet these anxieties rarely appear in Beijing’s own discourse on sustainable development.


Instead, China increasingly cloaks strategic expansion in the language of conservation. Marine reserves and protected zones announced around disputed features in the South China Sea are presented as evidence of ecological stewardship. Critics, however, see them rather differently: instruments of geopolitical consolidation masquerading as environmental policy.


Environmentalism, in contemporary geopolitics, is no longer merely about conservation. It has become a language of legitimacy. States invoke ecological principles selectively, often less to defend nature than to constrain rivals while preserving freedom of action for themselves.


None of this means that concerns surrounding Great Nicobar should be dismissed. India’s planners must address legitimate anxieties regarding biodiversity, tribal rights and long-term sustainability.


But we can do without China’s monumental hypocrisy. How is it that a country that has reshaped reefs into military fortresses, undertaken environmentally hazardous mega-dams in seismic zones and inflicted lasting damage upon marine ecosystems now seeks moral authority over India’s developmental choices?


Beijing’s record suggests a state willing to subordinate environmental concerns whenever strategic imperatives demand it, while simultaneously invoking ecological virtue abroad.


The regrettable broader lesson is that ‘great powers’ seldom practise abroad the standards they demand of others. Environmental language, much like the rhetoric of human rights or international law, becomes another instrument in geopolitical competition. India should neither ignore ecological concerns nor accept lectures uncritically.


The proper response is not rhetorical outrage but transparent governance. It should ensure that the Great Nicobar project genuinely minimises environmental damage, protects indigenous communities and becomes an example of balanced development rather than reckless expansion.


That would be the most effective answer to Beijing’s accusations. The credibility of any nation’s environmental claims rests less upon speeches than upon conduct. And when the mirror is finally raised, China may find the reflection rather less flattering than the image it seeks to project.


(The writer is a retired naval aviation officer and a defence and geopolitical analyst. Views personal.)

1 Comment


Deshmukh sir, you have elaborately discussed the issue covering many aspects. Environmental loss due to Great Nicobar Project is much less as compared to what China is doing on Bramhaputra river,South China sea,cutting reefs and building military fortress.We can raise this issue on the platform of the UNO.We can make a big hue and cry against China on world platform.No western countries or Russia will utter single a word against China.We have to initiate to form a committe of affected countries to raise this issue.I know nothing will prevent China in executing it's military ambitious plans but at least other countries will know that China is doing irreparable damage to the environment particularly in China sea.Japan and Australia may suppor…

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