Parul in Paris :-)

It has been a week since I have returned from my sojourn and I am still basking in the glow of the Golden Olympics…no one does it like the French. It was inclusive, equal, and pathbreaking.

From the luminous gilded hot air balloon hovering in the Tuileries, centrally framed through the Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel, the arched entrance to the Louvre, to the clever logo that is a unity of three iconic symbols: the gold medal, the flame, and Marianne – a symbol of the revolution and the people of France. 

The friendly volunteers and police, happy to guide us as we walked from the metro stations to the stadia (yes, the French do know English!) and the Olympic tourists, made it a whole new Paris- its usual joie de vivre now infused with a unique camaraderie for all lovers of sport who had gathered in the city of Love, to celebrate “The Games”. 

Over all these years I followed the Olympics- and of course the rise of India, but in a very limited way. I only followed the medals tally and read about some athletes- athletics, gymnastics and swimming. But this year, as I was to be there in the thick of the action, I made an effort to familiarise myself with the athletes and the events. Prior to reaching Paris, I read the profiles of the Indian regiment, their stories, training regime, mindset, as well as their overall attitude and got goosebumps. All of them were inspiring in their own way, the common sentiment though, was their discipline and sacrifice. Through social media and thanks to Russa, I also learned about many international athletes to watch out for, the story of these champions being fairly consistent – they started young had dedicated their lives to achieve this level of excellence through their college years and after, with grit and of course, inherent talent. 

It was an experience of a lifetime. 

As an amateur athlete in my own limited way, it was humbling to be breathing the same air as the Olympians. It was a dazzling display of French ingenuity as they designed the entire city as a huge sports arena to showcase world class athletes. It was really special to be close enough to actually see the joy and the tears, to feel their victory and disappointment, to see them hug their team members to rejoice and console. 

Watching the hockey match where India won the bronze medal was such a proud moment and I teared up when they played the national anthem at the start of the game. Indians from France had shown up in large numbers and the game was exciting, with our “India—Indiiaaa” cheers- loud and enthusiastic.

I was in Stade de France to see the fifteen girls applauding Tara Davis-Woodhall, as she won the gold medal in long jump and hugged her Paralympian husband, Hunter Woodhall. It was then that we saw the javelin leave the powerful arm of Arshad Nadeem, a winning throw from that very second!  

The most special for me, however, was watching the Men and Women’s marathons. I followed them everywhere, from the start line at Hotel de Ville, to the 5k mark near the Louvre to the finish line near the Invalides. Amazing how these iconic French monuments were now nothing more than a km marking for me- with the ostentatious Palace of Versailles transformed into merely, a turnaround point! Seeing Kipchoge and Kipruto in flesh, learning who Tola is, were moments to be cherished forever. 

But for me, the real star was Sifan Hassan- the treble winner of 5000m, 10,000m and the marathon. In our heart of hearts, we all hoped that she would win, but no one imagined that she could pull it off! 

I was at the 42km mark, when the 3 leading women ran in a huddle, drenched in sweat and I could see the gruelling miles on their faces, thinking, how had they run this arduous race under this treacherous sun and unforgiving climbs, when I needed shade to just stand on the side and cheer? Really touching moment. It could have been anyone’s race at that point. 

Sifan, winning with that sprint at the end that must have taken everything, said in an article from NYT:  “Every single moment I regretted that I ran the five and 10,000m.” This showed her human side, like all of us, to doubt yourself during a race, when we look back and question ourselves about the decisions we made and the path that we chose. ‘“What have I done? What is wrong with me?” she said of the inner monologue that had echoed in her head during the final miles of the marathon.’

The eternal question!

Victory and Loss, two sides of a coin for us, life-changing for these stars.

Olympians reach this pinnacle of success with the support of many- families, schools, coaches, federations and most importantly, their home countries. They sacrifice their lives to make their nation shine, make their flag fly high, dominating the sky and fill the hearts of their fellow citizens with pride. 

For us in India, it is just the opposite. Athletes are left to find their own means to train, to compete. If they win India is quick to claim them as their own, but in the time of need- there is just none or very little support. A few organisations have been working, but the real power still remains vested with the so-called federations that are a farce.  Reality emerges as a few brave athletes, put their lives on the line, by calling out the corrupt politicians and molesters. It is a grim picture. 

As amateur athletes we know how hard we work, the various factors we consider while planning a race, from the training strategies, balancing work and life, to seemingly small things like race day attire and pre-race fueling. But I feel nothing is small. It all contributes to a successful race. Nutrition. Strength training. Mental training. Recovery. Physio. ALL!! If my third gel- salted date combination timing is so crucial to my inconsequential race, how much planning, funding and support would world class racing require for an event that comes once in 4 years, an opportunity the athlete gets a chance to represent their country at best one or two times, and in a few exceptional cases three?

Let’s accept it, that we don’t have what it takes to create Olympic champions, as we cannot compete with the world on level ground. Not because we don’t have talent, but because we don’t know how to create an environment that nurtures it. Champions, as we know, are born with talent, but created, on the ground, in gyms, rinks, arenas, ranges, rings, on an athletic track, in a 50m Olympic sized pool. We don’t have these facilities freely and easily accessible. Worse, we don’t have any willingness to create this. As Indians, we find glamour in saying that our champions train in fields, on muddy tracks, bare feet, ill equipped, starved, exploited. 

I am bereft of all words. I am ashamed to say this is our India. 

From this Saturday’s heartbreaking article on Vinesh Phogat, from Mint Lounge, A girl called Courage. Despite facing all the difficulties that she did, she wishes for hope, still appealing to men in an extremely patriarchal Haryana.  

‘At closing of her felicitation ceremony in her village, Balali, around 2am she would find the words for a lovely little speech, hoping that every home in this village produced a girl who would beat her records, beseeching the elders in the audience, which even here was 95% male, to “please support my sisters, they can achieve a great deal, they only need your help, your hopes, your belief”, soon thereafter tell the press that “The fight of life is very long.”’

Her struggle is real. 

It is a fight for mere survival. 

A fight for all athletes. 

A fight for all women.

It shows me how privileged I am to be writing this.