VILLUPURAM: The podium in Karaikal fell into a hush as the final shot of the national-level shooting championship was fired. When the scoreboard flickered to life, a name from a quiet corner of Villupuram rose above seasoned contenders – S Perarivaalan. Gold. For a moment, there was stillness. Then came the surge of applause, hurrays, and tears of joy for the 15-year-old champion.
A teen boy is a paradox in motion at 15. Unlike his peers, he is resolute. Emotions arrive fast and full, often all in the same hour. Wide-eyed, as he is, he perceives the world with a raw intensity, often through rose-tinted glasses. But 15-year-old S Perarivaalan carries the pulse of a seasoned shooter and the quiet burden of a boy whose dreams were once bought with the neighbourhood’s faith. From a modest home in Villupuram to the national podium in Karaikal, the journey to clinching gold in the Under-18 category, among over 100 shooters across India in U14 and U18 divisions, is a portrait of resilience, gratitude, and relentless dedication. The victory grabbed the eyes of district officials and Collector Sheikh Abdul Rahman, who went on to congratulate Perarivaalan and his coach.
Though trained in Silambam and Muhai Shito-Ryu karate from the age of five, completing all levels in both, he discovered shooting only a year ago. But in a sport often associated with privilege, how does a child of modest means outshoot the elite?
A son of a contractual computer assistant and a homemaker, meant a struggle to afford private sports coaching with three sons in the family. His father, Satayseelan, recalls, “After training in rifle shooting, we could not afford the expensive equipment until a few months ago. In a sport where precision equipment often determines performance, a quality air rifle costs anywhere between Rs 50,000 and Rs 1,00,000. The rifle that Perarivaalan now trains and competes with costs around Rs 53,000, a sum that once seemed far beyond reach.”
It was at this moment that the close-knit community of Villupuram stepped in. “Recognising the boy’s raw talent and dedication, his tuition teacher, K Ilavenil and her mother, N K Hemalatha, a government school teacher, pooled their resources to sponsor the rifle. Their gesture was not merely financial support but an investment in the belief of a young boy’s dreams,” added Satayseelan.
And it is this collective faith that fuelled Perarivaalan.
“I knew I could not let them down. The day I realised so many people were rooting for my success, the practice sessions became longer and more purposeful,” Perarivaalan told TNIE.
A steady force behind Perarivaalan’s rise has been his coach, P James Raja, a mentor who has not only refined his technique but also his temperament. Spotting the boy’s potential early on, Raja worked patiently to sharpen his precision, build mental resilience, and prepare him for the pressures of competition.
“Shooting demands more than physical steadiness. It requires intense concentration, emotional control, and mental endurance. Perarivaalan trains tirelessly, balancing schoolwork with rigorous practice routines. Early mornings and evenings at the range, steady breathing drills, posture corrections, and countless rounds of repetition have shaped him into a disciplined athlete,” Raja said.
Perarivaalan, in turn, speaks of his mentor with gratitude. “Talent needs direction, that’s what my coach always says,” he reflects. “Under his guidance, I learned not just to shoot accurately, but to compete with composure. James sir’s encouragement on difficult training days and his strategic advice during competitions have shaped my journey in this sport.”
This discipline bore fruit at the Karaikal championship, where Perarivaalan displayed striking consistency. Yet for the young shooter, the gold medal is not a finish line, but a beginning. He dreams of representing India on larger international platforms, a path that once again brings financial hurdles, as advanced competitive rifles remain far beyond his family’s means. He has now applied for government assistance to support his training.
In the silence of the shooting range, Perarivaalan’s rifle is no longer just a piece of sporting equipment, but a ray of hope for the prayers of a family, the resilience of a teacher, and the faith of a small town. Every time he pulls the trigger, he is shattering the limitations of his birthright.
(Edited by Swarnali Dutta)