Modern Day Pehelwans Juggle Jobs and Wrestling at Delhi’s Akharas

Almost everyone at the Guru Chiranj Akhara wants to be the next Sushil Kumar.

Twenty-one year-old Karan Kashyap developed an interest in wrestling after Kumar won the silver medal at the 2012 London Olympics. “Till few years back, I wanted to be a professional dancer, but that changed after Sushil’s medal,” he said.

I met Kashyap at the akhara, a five minute walk from the crowded Kashmere Gate bus terminus in Delhi. There is a small temple there dedicated to Hanuman, who, according to Hindu mythology, is the most powerful wrestler ever born.

India has an illustrious culture of wrestling dating back to the ancient mythology. A battle till death between Bhima and Jarasandha finds place in the Mahabharata. In the Mughal era (1526-1857 AD), the native malla-yudhha combined with Persian wrestling, and pehelwani was born. Pehlwani is to India what bullfighting is to Spain, Buzakushi is to Afghanistan and archery is to Bhutan.

Facing an era of wrestling fought on mat courts at international events, akharas in Delhi have been training young men to keep this dying tradition alive while keeping in pace with modern techniques. These wrestling practice centres train pehelwans in martial arts on clay courts in the country’s age old Guru–shishya tradition, often providing them facilities like lodging and healthy diet associated with the sport.

The young wrestlers don’t have it easy. They have to fulfil the required diet, exercise on rusted equipment, and learn techniques through over-burdened teachers and videos on YouTube. And though a few boys in the akhara want to make their career in wrestling, others want to use pehelwani to get jobs in the police, army, as bouncers and security guards—some of the only ways for the skills to translate into an income.

Kashyap is a freelance graphic designer who attends classes at a private institute in Bhajanpura. But everyday for three hours before his classes, he practices his pehelwani.

“I haven’t told my classmates. People become kind of shocked when they find out,” said the soft-spoken boy with a stylish beard. Kashyap hails from a family of wrestlers—it was his uncle who took him to the Akhara at the age of 14. “When I joined this Akhara, I was the thinnest one and weighed 32 kilograms. I have worked a lot and I am 55 kilograms now.”

As he offered me tea in a polystyrene cup, his name was announced on the loudspeaker. Many young wrestlers assemble at Guru Chiranji Akhara for the monthly Hind Kesari Pandit Parsaram Smriti Dangal. And Kashyap was on a winning streak.

Kashyap took off his blue pullover and jeans and entered the ring wearing a red loincloth. The introvert assumed the role of a fighter. Clark Kent had given way to Superman. “He has not lost a fight in his last nine outings,” his guru shouted on the loudspeaker. The home crowd of around a hundred people erupted.

The opponent was heavier, but not a match for Kashyap’s speed in the ring. Within minutes, he managed to simultaneously pin the opponent's shoulders and hips to the ground. The referee raised his hand. Kashyap had his tenth consecutive victory.

As he touched the feet of the elder pehelwans, someone took out a thin bundle of notes and handed it over to him. “The prize money for my category is around Rs. 2,000 but money has never been a motivation for me,” he told me after the fight, and distributed most of the money among his friends at the akhara.

At the monthly dangal, some wrestlers come from other akharas in Delhi, but most have been trained here. Many of them are part-time athletes.

Bharat Kashyap, 22, (no relation) has been with the akhara for around eight years. He works as a sales executive in a multinational marketing firm, but keeps coming back to keep a family tradition of wrestling alive. “If there were more opportunities in pehelwani, I would have pursued it instead of working a regular job. I think it was a little easier for the older generation. Earlier, if they were doing pehelwani, they just had to do pehelwani.”

Bharat wakes up every morning at six and practices his wrestling for a couple of hours before going to the office to spend his day meeting clients and preparing reports. After office, he goes directly to the gym before his dinner. “I fulfil my nutritional and protein requirement through a pure vegetarian diet consisting of fruits, almonds and homemade ghee,” he told me.

Though he thinks real pehelwans fight on mud, he sometimes visits other akharas to get some mat practice. “Most pehelwans I know continue to practice on clay courts. Fighting on mats is a different ball game altogether,” said Bharat.

Unlike the previous two wrestlers, who were sent into the sport by their families, Deepak Lokhna, 17, chose it against the wishes of his family. Lokhna belongs to Haryana but has been living in Delhi’s Chandgi Ram Akhara for the last two years.

Lokhna’s daily routine at his akhara begins at four AM for a five kilometre run, a couple of hours of mat practice, and technique lessons. After breakfast, he resumes his practices followed, and then naps for three hours. He wakes up in the evening to grind almonds and start another round of practice.

“My grandfather, father, brother and sister have been wrestlers. When I told my father I want to do it too, he said there ‘now there is nothing left in pehelwani as there are no opportunities. My father lost his hand in a fight and my brother got severely injured, breaking his knee during a match. They were bound to be apprehensive.”

When he was in school, Lokhna began participating in events and winning events at without telling his family. He went on to win gold at the district championship, the state championship and the South Asian championship in Nepal, and recently got selected for the army due to his wrestling credentials—finally making his parents happy.

Lokhna, who comes from lower-middle class background, said he is currently enrolled in a Bachelor of Science course in his hometown (Palwal, Haryana), but can’t find time to study. “I just see wrestling in my books too. Even in my dreams, I try to effectively implement new moves.”

Apart from their opponents in clay courts, there is one more thing which the young wrestlers have to fight out: stereotypes.

“Many people believe that pehelwan has a moti buddhi. I don’t agree. There are so complicated tactics, the daanv and pech. Every good pehelwan will plan beforehand, read opponent’s tactics and defend against it, while planning his own also attack at the right moment,” Lokhna told me.

Bharat, meanwhile, said that even though people believe most pehelwans like to show their physical dominance in public, the reality is exactly the opposite. “Whenever there are any quarrels in our colony, I try to stay away, as that is the culture associated with the sport. In fact, very few people in my office know that I am also a pehelwan.”

The discipline of being a pehelwan is not just limited to following a rigorous regimen to keep fit. It governs each and every sphere of their life: dealing with friends, talking to strangers, their attitude towards elders, and their approach towards love.

“The biggest discipline for a pehelwan is to be ‘langoti ka pakka’ [celibate] . My friends make fun of me sometimes. ‘Where is your girlfriend?’ they taunt. I tell them if the girlfriend comes, pehelwani will go,” said Lokhna.

Bharat said not everyone can understand this discipline and culture. “We won’t say anything to the guru, even if we think he is wrong. However, the times are changing and people’s thoughts are changing too. In today’s times, many pehelwans roam around in Audis.”

Bharat's father, Ramesh Kashyap, 51, runs a shop making licence plates for vehicles in Kashmere Gate. Ramesh said being a pehelwan has brought him lot of respect from people around him.

However, he feels Pehelwani has changed dramatically in the last few decades, and not for the better. “Earlier, it used to be for traditions and values. Now it’s just for money or jobs. Earlier pehelwans also used to be much more humble and respectful.”

The teachers at the akhara have seen these changes over the years. Guru Ashok Vashisht, 58, is a tall burly man with white hair and moustache, a red tilak on his forehead. He has been instrumental in starting the monthly dangal, and running the Guru Chiranji Akhada for a decade. He said he considers all his wrestlers like his own family. “I teach them even if you don’t become a wrestler, it’s just fine to be a good person. I tell them to take care of their bodies without spending too much money.”

“Even a pickpocket achieves excellence if he keeps picking pockets. The key is to eat well and work hard. Few times, I have to pick up a stick to train them,” he said.

Another coach, Vinay Brown, 50, agreed that the requirements for wrestling are changing dramatically with times. The new ingredient is the protein powder. “It is now all about the protein intake as wrestler can’t can’t go much further without protein powders. It builds your strength and muscles.”

Brown, the referee at monthly dangal at Guru Chiranji Akhada, works full time as a coach at the Guru Hanuman Akhada in Jhandewalan. He is better known as Pammi Pehelwan among his counterparts. “It’s not an easy job to be a referee as you have to be unbiased at any cost. The akhara is a place where everyone forgets their identity part from that of a wrestler,” he said.

Brown said foreign wrestlers are ahead as they invest on their wrestlers. “Our kids eat home-cooked food and learn techniques from YouTube videos of Western wrestlers.”

But Indian wrestling is also changing to keep up with modern techniques and requirements. Medals won by the country’s wrestlers at international events, and Bollywood movies featuring wrestling have renewed public interest in the age-old tradition.

“Films like Sultan and Dangal have contributed a lot to revive people’s interest,” said Brown. "Dangal is much better as it is a realistic portrayal of how people progress in wrestling. It has shown the struggle. After this film, parents who wouldn’t let their girls wear jeans have now begun to send them to akharas. Sultan was far from ground realities. A pehelwan comes and starts practising and becomes champion in a short time.”

“In real life, it needs years of perseverance.”

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