Twice she stepped off the mat, into the tunnel of the athletes’ area, in some strange tunnel vision of her own, head bowed, shutting out the world in a quiet brooding that she assumed was an invisible cloak, the once pretty, cheerful face now a permanent melancholy with a hard jaw, a woman forever angry, lost to the world and its injustices, not caring – her haircut like an ill-fitting wig chosen in haste – and slowly losing the strength and will to fight back. But in truth, Vinesh looked utterly defiant on Monday. Ignored and unseeded back home, unceremoniously unheard here, Vinesh suddenly became the queen of the mat, reaching the semifinals from nowhere and coming within swiping distance of a medal in the 50kg women’s freestyle wrestling. Yusnelis Guzman Lopez To make it to the final, which means much more than just the gold medal match.
Today a strange fire was burning inside her. Maybe, no, definitely, she must have been ignited by sitting for hours in the sun, rain and cold of Jantar Mantar. In New Delhi when they protested the patriarchy that still rules the minds and habits of India. It was primitive, poetic, terrifyingly beautiful to watch, like a rebirth you would never expect.
Perhaps India’s real Olympics began on Monday, its real story – stripped of the glamour – on Mat B of the makeshift wrestling arena of the vast Champs de Mars Arena, and a Japanese world No. 1, who until now did not know what it meant to lose, walked off, dazed and in tears, like some strange tangent on the arena’s yellow perimeter.
Vinesh attacked at the last moment, from behind the wall but still lurking, with the venom and patience of a veteran – literally – to beat an opponent who was leading 82-0 in this bout, and 2-0 at the final moment. That her opponent was the Olympic champion – who had won the gold medal without losing a single point at her home Games in Tokyo – that she was the world No. 1 and that she had never lost to a non-Japanese opponent would soon be things of the past. Then, Phogat was going to turn the corner, and her approach – more assertive here than in the earlier wrestling chess game – to overcome a Ukrainian challenger.
If it did anything for her, it did soothe the handful of Indians watching, waiting. One would be lying if one didn’t feel a little lump in the throat, a little burning in the eye when she said, “Thank you, sir,” without looking up, “Super, super show, Vinesh!” as she strode forward – so small and bulky in her singlet but so unbelievably big that you would be intimidated by her. Vinesh, famously no longer a talker, was half-nodding her enthusiastic, genuine hat-tip to you on Monday.
Now the situation has changed. He is now in a new weight category after giving up his spot at 53kg. the final stageUnseeded Vinesh was expected to try her luck in the repechage after drawing her first match against Yui. Yui, who has a record of 82-0 or 94-0 if you believe the disbelieving Japanese media present here, is now pinning her hopes on the Indian player to salvage her honour which has taken a severe beating today.
If Vinesh had to struggle to calm down Ukraine’s gutsy Oxana Livach in the quarterfinal, after doing nothing and waiting in the early stages, she had to show such astonishing power and intent that she destroyed Yui, with less than 18 seconds remaining in the opening round. The Japanese player sat still, appropriately stunned, while on the other side, in a different orbit, a sprawled Vinesh could only weep to herself, her trembling body visible across the arena. Did the celebratory world gathered in sun-drenched Paris know what her fight, her tears, were really about? Was it all just to win a medal? If so, how much of it would belong to India and how much to her, only her own?
Because when Vinesh was crying on the streets of the capital in the fight for justice, she was alone.
Vinesh was the outsider in this Indian Olympic contingent, overwhelmed with wishes for success and buoyed by happy, optimistic corporate and political support. No one touched her, despite her undeniable credentials, as she was always identified with those famous weeks of protest. While the rest of India in blue – and some in saffron – were happily posting their hopes and dreams ahead of these Paris Games, her last few posts on X sought help from the new sports minister for a visa for her brother or, for herself, a Schengen intervention for her final training camp in Spain. Even when she arrived, there was hardly a mention of Vinesh Phogat in the larger Indian camp suddenly overwhelmed by social media.
Now, when suddenly an unrecognisable destiny, a self-made destiny, awaits her, while she struggles to reach the threshold of an Olympic medal that was there for every other Indian here in Paris but not for her, will the corporate and political establishments line up cowardly for her, adopt her as one of their own? Will those phone calls be made in prime time? More importantly, will Vinesh Phogat respond?
