Carrom is a quiet theatre of geometry and nerve, a powdered square where whites and blacks wait their turn, and the red queen holds her breath in the middle. A flick of the finger sends intent gliding across the wooden board, and the collisions of coins echo like measured decisions. It is a game of patience and precision where control and calm take centre stage.
The carrom board has always been a staple in Tamil homes and schools, often brought out between homework, during holidays, and in the evenings, teaching the players the importance of focus and precision. But on the silver screen, the game was rarely allowed this innocence. Cinema repeatedly pushed carrom into dimly lit rooms, claiming it was almost exclusively for rowdies and villains — from Baashha, where gangsters gather around a board like a council of power, to Kaakha Kaakha, where villains play with casual cruelty.
For every such loaded symbol that cinema fixes in place, resistance inevitably follows — sometimes loud and confrontational, and other times, quiet and transformative. In the case of carrom, it is the latter: a series of powerful wins that is gently undoing decades of stereotyping. Youngsters today, especially young women from North Chennai, are reclaiming the board not merely at home or in schools, but in tournaments and games, representing the country on the world stage.
And in the lineup of these youngsters stands the recent world champion, L Keerthana. After securing three gold medals at the Maldives this month and winning the World Cup, the 22-year-old returned home to a grand welcome from her neighbourhood.
The scale of the victory, however, brought with it a flood of media appointments. When she sits down with CE, her answers come out polished and precise — almost templated, as though carefully rehearsed so no name on her mental list of gratitude is missed. “I want to thank my family, my late father, especially, for teaching me the game when I was just six years old. Then my mentor, Nithiyarajan, who motivated me and helped me get back on my feet when I was at my lowest. Then my coach, Maria Irudayam sir, Amudhan sir from the Chennai District Carrom Association (CDCA), Chief Minister MK Stalin, Deputy Chief Minister Udhayanidhi Stalin, and Thiruvottiyur MLA KP Shankar.”
But a few questions in, away from glaring lights and watchful cameras, Keerthana begins to ease into the conversation, her guard softening, her voice opening up to reveal the person behind the victory. The high that follows a grand win is familiar to every champion, but the road that leads there is rarely shared. The path this young woman speaks of was shaped by poverty and grief and sustained by persistence, made possible by the immense support of her mentors.
Multiple restarts
Keerthana practised the game from a young age. She rose to represent clubs, the district, and the state, but then came the fall. Her father’s death, a failed Class 10, the loss of both studies and sport, and the Covid lockdown that pushed her family into poverty. She took up work in a steel patra unit.
But a few months later, she found her way back. Despite long workdays, she either woke up before dawn to practise or would play late into the night, slowly reclaiming the game that had once slipped from her hands. Nithiyarajan says, “For her, it was like what they say in Tamil, Thottil palakkam sudugaadu varaikum (Habits formed in the cradle last until the cremation ground or death). When she was young, she used to teach my son to play. I couldn’t let her end her carrom career while my son was going for tournaments and games, and so, I decided to support her and take her to tournaments.”
With his support, Keerthana restarted, returning through a state match in 2022 and rising swiftly to the nationals in Mumbai, where she finished third. That season, Nithiyarajan stepped in to cover her expenses, and soon after, the Airport Authority of India (AAI) recognised her talent, offering a one-year contract, 2023-24, with a steady stipend that allowed her to train and play without worry. But when the contract ended, the support fell away, and poverty once again pushed her back into work. “This time around, I joined as a carrom teacher at a private school,” Keerthana says, adding that she restarted once again in 2025. In this stretch, she went on to win the nationals for Tamil Nadu after a decade-long gap, and then carried that momentum all the way to a World Cup victory.
But Keerthana isn’t the only one keeping the momentum alive. Just a year ago, Khazima M Basha became the youngest-ever women’s world carrom champion. Interestingly, the two back-to-back World Cup winners have been neighbours since childhood and even played for the same club until very recently. “We have known each other since we were children, and we are friends. I am really happy that she won the World Cup this year,” Khazima says, adding how they didn’t just share the same streets and practice halls, but a journey of friendly rivalry and mutual inspiration.
Vada Chennai and carrom
These wins from North Chennai immediately raise questions about what that region is doing differently and correctly to produce top players. Nithiyarajan points out that numerous clubs are actively introducing children to the game, and many working-class parents are seeing it as a pathway to scholarships and government job opportunities.
But does this mean the talent is coming solely or to an overwhelming extent from North Chennai? Maria Irudayam, the two-time World Carrom Champion and nine-time national champion, who is now the secretary, Tamil Nadu Carrom Association, disagrees. “Players are coming from across Chennai, not just from Vada Chennai. We have no numbers to prove that the talent is solely coming from Vada Chennai, either. Many players from here have played till nationals, but undeniably, the wins, especially these last two years’ World Cup wins, have come from the players here,” he says.
In fact, Maria believes that the theory of North Chennai harbouring this talent could have held even in his youth, when board rooms were everywhere. Just within two streets of his then-residence in Periamet, he recalls, there were four or five board rooms. “But over time, as police began encountering individuals with criminal records frequenting these spaces, authorities started requiring licences for board rooms — and with that, the harmless game of carrom gradually became tagged as a rowdy’s pursuit,” he says. Asserting that talents are coming from across the city, he informs that the other regions producing notable carrom talent in the state include Coimbatore, Tiruchy and Madurai. “Many promising juniors are coming out of Villupuram district too,” he adds.
Keerthana and Khazima’s wins, however, have brought some state-led infrastructural support to Vada Chennai. After Khazima’s win, for instance, Udhayanidhi Stalin improved the board room facility run by her father. It now runs with complete air conditioning and multiple carrom boards with stands and chairs, buzzing with up-and-coming players.
Despite better infrastructure to help players, the talents emerging from Vada Chennai often share familial backgrounds similar to Keerthana’s. “Many children here are coming from the same kind of background as I. They are learning at clubs and trying to win big. I will continue to play my game but also teach those children so they come up in life too,” she notes.
And when asked how she hopes the sport will change circumstances, she speaks of a simple yet heartfelt dream: a better home, with space to display her medals and trophies. “Many of my big trophies are at the club because I have no place to keep them at home. The smaller cups are all stored away in huge vessels that we don’t use. I wish that I would soon shift with my family to a better house, and build a few shelves on the wall there to display my victories,” she says, glancing at her wrist watch — shaped and designed like a carrom board. Every tick marks the end of the time she set aside for this interview, yet with each passing second, it also seems to draw her modest dream nearer, almost as if the game itself were quietly steering her toward it.