So Sindhu won the bronze.
So India won yet another medal at the Olympics.
But euphoria aside, did India really win the medal? Did India win any medal at all?
Or was it the singular effort of a player with passion and dedication doing its bit to keep her at her game despite all odds?
Think about what happened when Sindhu lost the match that would have moved her a notch closer to the silver. The fiery hope of a nation quickly turned colour as the game progressed. The swift-footed Tai Su Ying who seemed to magically occupy every inch of the court, decimated her rival in a methodical, almost clinically perfect way. Not an expression disturbed the equanimity of her face, while close-ups of Sindhu revealed her increasing agitation.
Perhaps an agitation as much brought on by the subconscious pressure of a nation leaning on her as by what was happening to her in court.
But while she did her bit, fighting for every point, what were we doing? Sitting in the comfort of our homes, we were passing judgement. Not just those of us who have played nationally, or in college matches or during office tournaments, but even those who might have last held a racquet to play outside the house on opposite sides of an imaginary net. As is the practice of the times, every one of us had an opinion, and every point she lost was judged for its faults, and criticism flowed faster than a river in spate. How quick we are to judge. How easy it is for us to pull someone down at their most vulnerable moment.
When Sindhu lost her second match and walked out of the court, she was the Loser. Alone. With only herself to blame for the fact that she had lost the chance to bring back a silver medal. It was her loss. As an individual.
Few empathised with the reasons for the loss. Of which there may have been many. After all, no one is at peak performance all the time.
But then, Sindhu rallied quickly enough in time for the next match. And so, of course, her win is India’s win. We won yet another medal, we tell each other, the pronouncement steeped in self-congratulatory tones as if it is something we did that helped bring the bronze medal home.
Yet let us stop and think. While there is nothing wrong in feeling the warmth of winning by proxy, let us not forget the long, arduous journey of each Olympian who regardless of being a winner or loser, has worked hard at just being able to make the grade and win the honour of wearing Indian colours at the world’s most prestigious sports event.
Most have come up through their own grit, and we know of them only when their determination finds them a place in the sun. This is as true of men as well as women, but women have the tougher fight, for reasons obvious.
So let’s learn to watch and appreciate. And cease with the judging.
Whether it’s Bhavani Devi, who has with her win in fencing brought our attention on a sport that was viewed as best seen in period films, or Nethra Kumanan, the first Indian female sailor to make the Olympic cut, Karnam Malleswari, Mirabai Chanu, Rani Rampal or Maana Patel, they are trail blazers who will light the path for many. If Mary Kom had to learn boxing in secret to avoid her parents’ censure, Lovlina Borgohain’s father, a small-scale businessman, supported his daughter’s ambition despite his lack of adequate finances.
And there was no stopping Bhavani Devi, once she showed her mettle despite training with bamboo sticks. The ranks of unknown youngsters who work their way to the global arena, be it in wrestling, tennis or cricket, will only continue to grow.
We need to celebrate the fact that the talented are getting opportunities to shine. Whether they win medals or fall short, let’s cheer them on. That’s what sport is all about.
Sathya Saran
saran.sathya@gmail.com
Author & Consulting Editor, Penguin Random House