Home to a handful of committed coaches and rising talent training against the odds, Mumbai hasn’t played host to fencing since the lockdown. What does it mean for the star players of the Olympic sport?
For three hours daily, Anuja Lad, 16, who is part of Maharashtra’s fencing team, would practice inside the spacious basement of SIWS School, Wadala, until the pandemic hit. Pic/Pradeep Dhivar
Anand Waghmare, 29, has been a fencing coach since 2010. Half a dozen of his students have participated in international level competitions and over a hundred are national-level fencers. For a greater part of last year, Waghmare had been making ends meet by selling fish. Since last month, he has added mangoes to his retail list.
Waghmare is among the handful of fencing coaches in Mumbai. Despite being an Olympic sport, it has largely been on the sidelines in India, losing out on government funds to potentially medal-winning sports like wrestling and shooting. Yet, in March this year, defying all odds, Chennai-born CA Bhavani Devi, 27, made history by becoming the first Indian to qualify for the Tokyo Olympics. There’s no overestimating just how monumental this achievement is; most Indians barely know the sport.
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Dharavi resident Vaibhavi Ingle’s interrupted one-on-one training with coach Anand Waghmare has affected her performance. “My rank at the 2019 Senior Nationals Fencing Tournament was 16. At the 2020 tournament, I fell to 24,” she says. Pics/Pradeep Dhivar
The combat sport is said to have its origins in sword play, and traces its origin to Spain. In 1896, it was introduced at the Summer Olympics in Athens and has been played since.
In Mumbai, interest in fencing had been growing slowly, mostly through schools and colleges that provided the space that it requires. Fencing coaches like Waghmare would typically set up their bases in one or two institutions, scout for young talent and train.
Épée player Anuja Lad, 16, who is part of the Maharashtra fencing team that bagged a bronze at the 2020 Senior National Fencing Championships, lives in a one-room residence in Sion that cannot accommodate the standard 300 sq ft piste on which the bouts take place
Then, the Coronavirus pandemic hit. “Once the schools and colleges closed, we tried to take classes online. But it wasn’t easy,” Waghmare says, “The students were already trying to adjust to the new routine for academics. Online fencing classes became a chore and not an extra-curricular activity.” Over time, the number of students he trained fell from 40 to seven. His assistant coach, Vinod Jagtap also worked as trainer in schools on a contract basis. In the lockdown, he was among the first faculty members to be let go. In just a few months, Waghmare and Jagtap have gone from gurus to some of the best fencers in the city to being unemployed.
“So, we started selling fish,” says Jagtap. The pair would travel from their homes in central Mumbai to the docks in Colaba to source fresh catch which they hawk to customers via WhatsApp. Meanwhile, when Jagtap heard of openings at the BMC, he jumped at the opportunity. “The municipality was looking for data entry operators at vaccination centres. I applied and I got through. I’m not a full-time BMC employee, just a contract worker. It’s not ideal but I’m able to cover basic expenses.”
One of the venues where Kedar Dhawle ran his fencing classes was inside the Shree Mansampurna Mahadev Mandir premises, Akurli Road, Kandivli. Pic/Atul Kamble
Waghmare, who says he’d make over R50,000 a month pre-pandemic, now makes a little over Rs 10,000. At one point, things got so tight that he had to work as a food delivery executive. At the moment, Waghmare has invested every last penny he has into the mango delivery business. Once the season is over, the coach of several elite fencers from the city will have to find another way to survive.
Contrary to popular belief, despite being a relatively expensive sport, fencing in India isn’t restricted to the rich. Anuja Lad, 16, who is part of the Maharashtra fencing team that bagged a bronze at the recently concluded 2020 Junior National Fencing Championships, is a resident of Pratiksha Nagar. An épée player (one of three disciplines of modern fencing, other than sabre and foil), she also had a podium finish internationally at the Thailand Fencing Federation’s TFF Minime Series in 2018. Her dilemma is unique. Her one-room-kitchen home can’t accommodate the standard piste, or the fencing strip on which the bouts take place, which is usually more than 300 square feet.
Coach Vinod Jagtap is making a living during the lockdown by selling fish and working as a data entry operator with the BMC on a contract basis. Seen here at the vaccination centre at Sion Hospital
Pre-pandemic, Lad would travel to SIWS School in Wadala where in the sprawling basement hall, she would train for up to three hours every day and more on weekends. Lad would spend the first half hour on cardio, followed by warm-up exercises and footwork moves, before getting to the all-important part of her training: partner practice. For almost all of last year, she never got to that part because all her sessions were held online. “We focussed largely on our fitness routine and did target practice by propping pillows and cushions on chairs. Occasionally, I would go on the terrace and practice there,” she shares.
Seventeen-year-old Vaibhavi Ingle’s training routine hasn’t been very different either. Throughout last year, Ingle would begin her mornings by practicing basic footwork and do target and parry practice. Parry is a manoeuvre that’s meant to block or deflect an oncoming attack. Then in the evening, after her day at college, she’d practice her fitness routine. She did most of this on her own with Waghmare overseeing her sessions every once in a while.
Periyaswamy Sivan with his parents Sivan Konar and Shanmugasundari Sivan at their Matunga Labour Camp home. Sivan has adapted to the lockdown better than most by managing to successfully crack the online classes model through short videos
But the lack of one-on-one training with her coach—she did manage to get some on-ground training with Waghmare for a few weeks in December and January—affected her performance. “My rank at the 2019 Senior Nationals was 16. At the 2020 tournament, I fell to 24,” she says.
The blow to the sport and its ancillary businesses is evident when Nandkunal Dhanvijay, one of India’s few authorised dealers for fencing equipment, tells mid-day, “I manage to sell during the tournament season, which goes on from July to March. Typically, I used to sell about Rs 5-6 lakh worth of equipment annually. Last year, since no tournaments were held because of the lockdown, my sale went down to zero.”
Fencing equipment comes at a price. The most basic kit starts at Rs 15,000 and these are China-made and not approved by Fédération Internationale d’Escrime (FIE), the governing body of Olympic fencing. FIE-approved equipment costs north of Rs 1.75 lakh. It’s also not stocked on e-commerce platforms and sports megastores. As a result, most amateur and intermediate fencers borrow equipment from their coaches.
Despite being on the margins, fencing in Mumbai has come a long way. And no one has witnessed its growth in a way that Kedar Dhawle has. Dhawle was the first fencing coach in the city. “It started as a hobby. I managed to convince a couple of our karate students to learn under me and began experimenting on them,” he laughs acknowledging how blasphemous it sounds now. “No one got hurt.”
After he had competed nationally and worked on his coaching skills, Dhawle began approaching schools. “No matter how much I convinced them that this was a safe sport, no one agreed to let us use their space or train their students,” he remembers. Ultimately, one small school called Nalanda in Charkop agreed to let him in. And that’s how, in 2003, on the grounds of a humble school in a Mumbai suburb, fencing coaching began for Mumbai.
Over 20 years, two of Dhawle ’s students have gone on to participate in international tournaments and 95 of them have represented the state at the national level. But after trying to make online sessions work for nearly a year, Dhawle too has given up.
The few elite fencers continue to train but that’s nowhere close to the 50-60 students that he’d train pre-pandemic. Today, Dhawle admits he is living off his savings.
Not all coaches are doing poorly, though. Vaibhavi Lad’s coach Periyaswamy Sivan, 26, has adapted to the lockdown better than most by managing to successfully crack the online classes model. “Soon after the lockdown was announced, I made a whole bunch of videos using my phone. These short videos take you through basic fitness workout routines and footwork routines. Using audio-visual aids, I’ve made it easier for students to follow my instructions,” he says. Aside from making his classes more interactive—for instance, he’ll throw in a fun challenge every other day—he also engages with them outside of his online training sessions. Like on social media, where he tries to find ways to incorporate fencing-related activities into Instagram trends and memes.
However, it isn’t the same. “Pre-pandemic, I used to coach across schools, and had about 80 students,” he says. “Because the schools are shut, I coach only those who are part of my academy. So, we’re down to 35.” Most of them are elite level fencers, which will be a problem for him sooner rather than later.
Since the shutting of the schools, none of the coaches have been able to scout for young talent for a year. Even when they do reopen, he says he isn’t sure how many parents would be open to sending their kids for coaching. He fears that eventually after his elite level fencers move on, he won’t have new students. And even someone as digitally savvy as Periyaswamy will have nothing but an empty Zoom screen staring back at him.
2003
Year in which the first fencing coaching class was held in Mumbai at a school in Charkop
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