If you drive from the industrial hub of Rourkela, the orange glow of the city’s steelworks quickly recedes as the car turns onto the Biju Patnaik Expressway, spilling you onto the state highway and then into the deep pastoral heart of the mineral-rich Sundargarh district. It is about an hour and a half’s drive from one of India’s wealthiest districts and among Odisha’s most prosperous areas, yet there is little visible evidence of this affluence. Much of this wealth lies underground. In iron ore, limestone, dolomite, manganese, coal and quartz, with recent finds also pointing to lithium, often called “white gold”.
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INDIAN HOCKEY: COMPLETE INFORMATION
Sundargarh is a paradox: It is a high-income, high-poverty tribal-majority district. You can feel the industrial air giving way to dense greenery. The next crossing takes you on a village road to Kalijapathar, a village now famous for Shilanand Lakra, a tribal player who suddenly rose to prominence as a centre-forward from a region that has traditionally produced many of India’s top midfielders and defenders.
Shilanand village is around a quiet winding road, a nest of about 100 odd families who work and live in the middle of agricultural fields. Although the district has produced some of the greatest hockey legends led by the current president of Hockey India Dilip Tirkey and others like Lazarus Barla, Ignace and Prabodh Tirkey, William Xalco, Shilanand is the first player from his village Kalijapathar to make it to the national team. Many overlook the fact that Shilanand is the first centre-forward from the county to be talked about as a future star for the national team. There have been attackers before, including Roshan Minz, but none have drawn attention quite like Lakra. Shilanand attracts a lot of attention with his acting Credit: Sundeep Misra
In the recent Pro League in Hobart, the last match of the leg, a few before that as well, but especially in the 1-1 draw against Australia which India won in a shootout, Lakra’s intelligence, positioning and instinctive sense of ball placement were on display for the hockey world.
More importantly, the rise of Lakra is a significant shift for players from the region, who have moved from traditional defensive roles to the sport’s highly visible attacking positions. In a way, it could define the future of Sundargarh hockey. From full-backs being currency to flamboyance, feather touch and dribbling define you more than stopping a penalty corner flick on the goal line or clearing the ball from half a dozen sticks and feet away.
It is also interesting why players from this region prefer defensive roles such as center half and full back to playing as forwards. Playstyles when it comes to Sundargarh are not just a tactical choice, but a biological and psychological response to generations of displacement. Although Shilanand may not realize it, this is his form of rebellion on the field; his flamboyant display of play that also speaks of a generational shift: from the mainstays of the national team – Dilip Tirkeys and Lazarus Barlas – men who stood like monoliths in deep defence, clearing lines, absorbing pressure and shadowing the goal with a quiet intensity bordering on the spiritual. They were the backbone. Never the face.
To understand why they largely preferred the anonymity of the defense, we need to delve into history. These tribes were sitting on billions of dollars in iron ore, bauxite and coal. The industrial world moved in. The tribes were pushed out. For generations they lived as they saw their land hollowed out, the smoke from the steel mills and cement plants creating a landscape apart; they saw the land of their forefathers surrender. They were silent. Conflict avoidance. Gradually, introversion and insecurity became part of who they were.
In hockey, regardless of region, in India and the world, the flamboyant forward is a creature of ego. The best in the world, from South America, Europe, Asia, Australia demand the ball; they love the spotlight; celebrated with a clenched fist. In Sundargarh, visibility often led to victimization. In tribal communities, the church instilled in them the value of service – the players became deep defenders.
Indian hockey has deep cultural differences. Players from the north, Punjab, Uttar Pradesh, Haryana, are more assertive, come from a landowning background and tend to attack. The natives have traditionally done a masterful job of getting the ball back only to pass it forward. Someone else took the glory.
The striker always feels entitled on the pitch. He plays with the belief that the ball belongs to him. A community systematically dispossessed of everything from their land to their language had no sense of entitlement.
Into this enters Shilanand Lakra.
A light-footed, good-looking fellow with a headband around his close-cropped curly hair, Lakra is a radical departure from the ‘shy Adivasi’ archetype. He doesn’t wait for the play to come to him in the deep third; connects, looks for the ball, wants it on his stick. He thrives in the circle, the most pressure where a single touch decides your fate, determines the difference between victory and defeat. Lakra is the antithesis of tribalism – it refuses to be invisible. Every time he dribbles, rather breaks through the defense or hits the goal, he not only emphasizes the presence of his community, but tells Sundargarh’s youngsters to move up the pitch; let us dictate, says his staff. Shilanand thrives under high pressure in D (Courtesy: Sundeep Misra)
Although he still has a long way to go to dominate the striking circle at world level, his style of play is reminiscent of Spain’s Pol Amat. It also reminds you fleetingly of Australian great Jamie Dwyer, especially when he latches onto the ball and switches gears, burning through defenders in a one-on-one situation.
Lakra is deceptively smooth, giving off a sense of lazy elegance, but that has a lot to do with his cat-like footwork, soft on the pitch, coupled with his anticipation and vision to open up play up front. In crowded defensive areas, the ability to process so much information and play with simplicity is what makes him deadly.
Amat was known for his “ghost” in the circle – mysteriously appearing in the part of the circle where he believed the ball would land. Lakra, if closely monitored, like his teammate Sukhjit Singh, also manipulates the full-back position to create a pocket of space for himself. While scoring the equalizer against Australiahe was in the perfect place to pick out the pass, kill the ball’s momentum and flick it into the goal before a single Australian defender could react. Lakra is a nightmare for a man, going from playmaker to finisher in an instant. And like good forwards in the modern era, especially under coaches like Craig Fulton, he can trigger defensive turnovers and go into relentless pressing.
Lakra has a European/Australian hybrid feel. Even in the HIL, you could see him drop deeper to link the midfield with the attack. Some players are volume scorers inside the circle, Lakra relies on soft touches, mostly one touch to beat defenses and goalkeepers.
His coach Raju Kant Saini, who trained him at Rourkeli’s SAIL Academy, said, “He is hungry. He likes the limelight. Unlike others (tribal members), he does not run away from it.” Saini agrees with the hypothesis that “Adivasi players work well in a group but don’t like to stand out as individuals.” Having coached in Rourkela for over a decade, Saini has a good understanding of the profile and psychology of Adivasi players. “They are not aggressive and have long been suppressed in all aspects of life. Lakra is a little different. He is hardworking and at the same time loves applause.” Saini coached Lakra in Rourkela (Courtesy: Sundeep Misra)
Lakra may love cheering, but he is quick to credit the team for the equalizer against Australia. “It wasn’t just me,” he says. “At that point, decision-making was important and it paid off for me.” Responding to Saini’s comment that he loves “applause”, Lakra laughed and said:
“If you can’t enjoy the game, then it’s difficult to compete. I still need to improve, adapt and bring perfection to my game.” Scoring in the shootout is almost a given for Lakra, looking at his sublime skill with the ball and the joy on his face at outsmarting the goalkeeper.
Salman Lakra, a block-level coach who first saw Shilanand play in a village match and recommended him to Saini, believes his success will encourage more youngsters to try the center forward position. “They’re usually happy to be defenders,” says Salman. “They are comfortable in that space. Becoming a center forward requires more flexibility and a lot more intelligence to be able to understand the flow of the game.”
Lakra is set to make the squad for the upcoming World Championships and Asian Games. Its rise marks a shift in tribal consciousness. By moving from the backline to the frontline, players like Lakra signal that the era of tribal aloofness is coming to an end.
This is not just about sports; many don’t even understand or think about it, but it’s about reclaiming yourself. For a tribal boy to stand at center forward and demand the ball is an act of defiance. Shilanand Lakra is the vanguard of a new generation that realizes they don’t have to stay in the shadows. For generations of players, they indulged in peace in defensive tackling, Lakra could just add a little spice, spice up not only the national team, but tribal hockey as well.
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Published on:
14 March 2026 10:28 IST
