HYDERABAD: In a dimly lit court in Gondia, Maharashtra, the air hummed with tension. Six athletes crouched low, their fingertips tracing tactile lines on the court, ears tuned to the faintest jingle. A 1.25 kg ball hurtled through the darkness, bells inside it ringing a frantic Morse code. Lucky Mirani lunged, his body a lightning bolt and palms slamming the ball mid-air. The crowd erupted —Telangana had just clinched bronze at the National Goalball Championships.
“Playing goalball is extremely challenging; it tests our strength, listening skills and speed. We have to throw a ball, weighing around 1.25 kg to score a goal and have to prevent the opposite team from scoring. A match usually lasts 24 minutes and one has 10 seconds to return the ball, which has bells inside it. We have to listen to the sound of the ball to score or prevent the goal. The court has tactile markings that help the players navigate while playing,” Lucky tells TNIE.
His world dissolved into shadows at age four, stolen by retinal dystrophy. By five, even the memory of light faded. But Karimnagar, his hometown, became his training ground. While other children chased cricket balls with their eyes, Lucky chased them with his ears.
In his childhood, his parents enrolled him in a regular school, refusing to let his blindness define his orbit. Subsequently at the University of Hyderabad, Lucky traded playgrounds for lecture halls, studying political science by day and playing goalball by night.. His hands, calloused from drills, turned pages of braille textbooks, while his mind dissected Rousseau and Ambedkar.
‘Not a restriction’
The Gondia tournament, held from December 26 to 28, was a crescendo. Seventeen states, 72 hours, one mission. Telangana’s team — six strangers bound by darkness and grit — forged a brotherhood. Their bronze medal wasn’t just metal; it was a manifesto.
Post-victory, Lucky’s voice turned urgent: “The Rights of Persons with Disabilities (RPWD) Act, 2016, isn’t a suggestion — it’s a promise.”
Lucky’s hands, still dusty from the court, gesture passionately as he speaks. “Physical disability is a perception. It can restrict an individual only to the extent that we allow it to. I lead a very normal life like any other person who has vision. I never feel inferior because of my disability. I believe in hard work and sincerity,” he says.
Sharing his ambition, Lucky adds, ““I aspire to become an academician or join civil services in the future.”