OUT OF THE BOX, OUT IN THE STREETS

After the Bhiwani boys brought their sport into focus, our correspondent finds a small hut with big dreams bang in the middle of Mumbai, where dozens of young boxers trading punches is a way of life

After the Bhiwani boys brought their sport into focus, our correspondent finds a small hut with big dreams bang in the middle of Mumbai, where dozens of young boxers trading punches is a way of life
With clockwork precision at 5 every evening, street-fights break out outside this chawl in Tardeo. As young boys connect punches, housewives oblivious of the violence around them go about stretching towards the clothesline to check the dampness of their morning washing or dry-clean cups and saucers used for their afternoon tea. Some even take a break from their daily chores and indulgently watch the gloved fighters dodge open drains, avoid parked vehicles and surprise passers-by as they sway away from quick one-twos.

Nestled right in the middle of a locality inhabited by Brihan Mumbai Municipal Corporation’s Class IV employees, there is this 10×10 feet room with a misleadingly grand name: The Labour Department Club. Since 1957, this happens to be one of south Mumbai’s boxing hubs, and even today, several boxers converge here everyday. With a leaky roof adding to the space crunch inside, boxing isn’t quite an indoor sport here.
Looking at the queue of eager boxers waiting to reduce the lone punching bag, hanging precariously from the ceiling, to pulp, one is reminded of Chhatrasal’s ‘20 per room, 2 to a bed’ suffocation. The labyrinth of narrow dirty lanes leading to the BMMC club also sees one drawing parallels with the suddenly-famous Bhiwani Boxing Club’s mucky approach. Coach Rajendra Sakpal says that facilities here are non-existent. “Our struggle will get national attention only if one of our boys hits the big time. Till then we are off the radar,” he says.

The lucky few get the big bucks
His views convey the harsh reality of sports that struggle to get noticed in a country obsessed with cricket. Tears are being shed for Sushil — and the other boxing Kumars — as their harsh days of struggle are being brought to light. Sponsors with chequebooks in hand are falling over each other to draw their attention. These are the perks that only a few get, and that too, after a rare Olympic high. Before that, like the boys at BMMC chawl, it’s a life of obscurity where there is no hand-holding, spoon feeding or even a glimmer of the spotlight.
Checking the credentials of this municipal club is tough. There’s no roll of honour on the walls with peeling paint and crumbling concrete. That, though, doesn’t mean that this has been a mere evening hangout of wannabes for the last several decades. Just recently, eight junior boxers went for the state championship, and none returned home without a medal.

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Still looking for the final push
Several national and international boxers from Mumbai have walked through the labyrinth of narrow and congested lanes that lead to the BMMC club. The high point for the club came in 1982 when one of its boxers, Harish Mahida, was selected for the 1982 New Delhi Asian Games selection camp. But dehydration saw Mahida missing the cut. Sakpal, who has been the man in charge at this modest club for two decades, is famous for stunning Asian champion Dingko Singh at the Mayor’s Cup in 2000. Ask about the present, and they speak about Lalit Dandega, whose claim to fame is being Olympic hero Akhil Kumar’s camp mate.
Tales of near-misses, one-bout wonders and the humble high of rubbing shoulders with stars are part of this boxing joint’s folklore. That, to a certain extent, explains the anonymity of this club that could pass off as just another one-room home if not for the spillover boxers on the streets. Records prove that the potential and interest of the boxers who frequent this modest facility can’t be questioned, but a frail infrastructure fails to give them one final push.
Coach Sakpal puts this point across when he says, “Lack of funds is a major hurdle as nobody is ready to support us. The local corporator is not even ready to help us get the repairwork done at our club. They can’t even arrange money to stop water from seeping inside.” The 40-year-old, who works as a clerk with Western Railways, doesn’t charge fees from the 15 regulars who frequent the club, and the one thing that drives him is the optimism that things will change one day.

More so in the post-Beijing scenario, where long-neglected sporting arenas are getting urgent attention from corporate houses with deep pockets and just-awoken media. Sakpal is of the view that the need is to identify the areas with the potential of throwing up champs and fund them before a star is spotted there. “It is only a rare and gifted boxer who can overcome all obstacles and get you international medals. Such boxers can’t be found everyday. With better facilities, even average boxers can be turned into stars,” he says.
The final word comes from Akhil’s camp mate Dandega. “If I had better facilities, I would’ve achieved more than what I have. I would have definitely done something big, if not what Akhil has done,” he says.