Heart of Punjab: A judo story, made in Gurdaspur
Ravi Dhaliwal
This sporting story is made in Gurdaspur and it has attained pan-India heights. Young judokas know if they do not work hard, they will either wither in the sun of isolation or fall at the fence of high expectations — no one knows which is worse. In the ramshackle gymnasiums of this border town, better known for rampant drug abuse and the invasive whirr of Pakistani drones, champions are trained to beat the odds of poverty, lack of nutrition and general ennui.
But at the Shaheed Bhagat Singh judo coaching centre, judoka learn two other lessons they may not learn elsewhere. The first, that it’s not a crime to be poor, but to be poor and not bring home a medal is unacceptable. The second, that opportunity doesn’t knock twice — the smart judoka is one who is not just extremely talented, but also understands that his sport is his only passport out of a passable hell.
This time in Paris, the Indian Olympic squad has no faces from Gurdaspur, but many will be sending up prayers for medals for those who made the cut — as well as the one young man, competing in the heavyweight category, who faltered in the finals. Still, sports administrators unequivocally agree that it is the Shaheed Bhagat Singh centre where small-town boys are shown that it’s possible to conquer the world. It is here that they teach them that an indomitable will, not a paucity of resources, is what makes the grade.
That’s why the Centre has produced an astonishing 37 international players, plus 80 national-level medallists. Here you will find an Olympian, a near Olympian, participants and medalists in World championships, Asian games, Asian championships, Commonwealth games, Commonwealth championships, World school games, World University games and World police games. Every year, the Army, BSF, CISF, Punjab Police, SSB, Railways and the CRPF dispatch their talent scouts to Gurdaspur.
Early this year, the Centre’s success story reached Bollywood proportions. An eminent producer-director dispatched writer-cum-cinematographer Varun Chaphekar to Gurdaspur to write the story of the town’s judokas. He stayed for three months and is now is ready with the script. The film’s shooting is slated to start sometime in October.
Here are some of those stories.
Back in 2016, when Head Constable Avtar Singh got selected for the Rio Olympics, the city burst into joy. Four years later, Asian championship gold medalist Jasleen Saini, the son of a laboratory attendant, almost got the nod for the Tokyo Olympics via the continental quota, but for Covid which snatched key qualification points.
When Karanjit Mann won a gold medal in this edition of the World police games held in Winnipeg, a Canadian TV channel asked him if he had heard about the “famous training centre being run in a city called Gurdaspur somewhere near the India-Pakistan border.”
Mann told the interviewer that he belonged to that very centre. He was feted and honoured. He was also asked if he would stay back and coach Canadian judokas, but Mann refused. “I cannot separate myself from my roots, come what may,” he said.
There are days, Jasleen Saini says, when he wakes up with a body whose parts that do not hurt are in a minority. “You seek the pain. It is like a high. Like people get a kick out of heroin, I get a kick out of practicing judo,” he says.
The spirit behind the Centre is Amarjit Shastri, a former Sanskrit Teacher. In 1983, with terrorism at its peak, Shastri joined a private school where judo was taught to tiny tots by a government coach. The coach retired and passed on the baton to Shastri, despite the fact that he possessed no coaching qualifications, not even mandatory ones. However, his passion for the game meant he slowly learnt the ropes. On the way, he also acquired a black-belt certificate from the Judo Federation of India (JFI).
At least on five occasions, which he so vividly remembers, Shastri was asked by gun-wielding militants to shut down the judo classes in school. The terrorists told him that his bunch of boys were well-trained in the martial arts and it would be appropriate if they joined the movement for a separate Sikh state. After all, judo and martial arts are first cousins, they insisted.
In the fall of 1991, fearing the shadow of militancy would cast a dark spell on the players, Shastri shifted his judokas to what is now known as the School of Eminence. He found instant success as his boys started getting selected in international tournaments. The militants never returned, letting the coach produce champions in peace. Sports department coach Ravi became his Man Friday.
Shastri and his band of judokas had catapulted Gurdaspur’s name to the highest level.
Still, as Shastri soon found out, nothing can be sustained without money. So when he asked all former international players to donate ten percent of their salaries, not one man dared to disagree. Sometimes, the Centre had to depend on the benevolence of people like Dubai businessman SPS Oberoi — but only sometimes. Year after year, the poor and the lower middle-class families continue to send their sons to the Centre. Year after year, the medals continue to flow. The adrenaline rush never ends.
The coach has a laser-like focus. He religiously visits government primary schools located in villages. “Boys living in villages tend to place honour and victory above money. This is where the fight lies. They possess the resilience to absorb failure and weave it into the pattern of their lives, qualities not seen in boys from the cities,” he says. He assures parents that he will bear their boarding and lodging expenses.
All eyes are now riveted on the forthcoming World Cadet Championship to be held in Lima, Peru, the Junior Asian Meet slated to be held in Korea and the Tajikstan Junior World Championship.
Judokas, like sailors and swimmers, are not to be found on the Forbes list of billionaires. You do not select a sport because of what it gives you financially, but by how intensely it calls out to you. Gurdaspur’s judokas are not modern sporting heroes, but nevertheless, they are doing something that is vaguely heroic. That is, by following their dreams wherever they take them. By not letting hard times define them. By believing that around the corner, in the next city, in that next championship, there will be better days. And more importantly, by still finding joy in all this.
