In a quiet corner of Patiala, within the vast heritage of the National Institute of Sports (NIS), there is an oasis that demands a unique focus. Once the palatial grounds of the Maharajah of Patiala, these tree-lined avenues are interspersed with various facilities – basketball and tennis courts, football and hockey pitches. In a corner of the 268-acre property, two synthetic tracks lie side by side, where the noise of the city fades into the rhythmic thud of balls, hammer or discus and the quivering flight of a javelin. For athletes, it is a private area, a verdant territory where, even among a number of competitors, one remains alone on his journey.
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At the recently concluded Indian Open Throws, this world was in full display. Under the watchful eyes of a motley crowd of barely two hundred people, the air was full of early ambitions for the 2026 season. There is no sign of sporting glitz; what you see is the unadulterated rawness of the U18s, U20s and seniors, all trying to recreate or discover the invisible lines of excellence.
The whole world in a circle
For the Kirpals, Toors, Damnees, and Nandas, their world is exactly seven feet in diameter. There they rule and perish. Anything outside that circle is meaningless except to celebrate or regret. Training or competition must take place in this area. For javelin throwers, it’s a 30 to 35 meter track leading to an 8 meter radius arc – a whole universe of momentum and speed.
For the insider, the early morning starts in Patiala include fans – including athletes’ families – flocking to witness the mechanics of power: discus and shot put, metal spinning balls; the hammer, a metal ball attached to a steel wire where centrifugal force is fought; and the javelin, a sprint that culminates in a sudden explosive release.
The javelin may have been loved by millions of Indians, but the “fantasy” is an imagination. Two or three days of public interest come once every two or four years; for the athletes, Jena and Lokhar, it’s a daily routine of finding the exact elbow angle and foot placement every morning while the world sleeps.
They may be competing against each other, but they are actually competing with themselves, pushing the mark, bettering a personal best or chasing a national record. Yet each of these athletes shares a deeper connection: camaraderie, companionship, and a quiet brotherhood. Male or female, there is solidarity – Solidarity of hope.
Morning routines, invisible ambitions
These circles and paths are personal domains. Although each athlete is allotted 60 to 90 seconds to complete the throw, the total movement in the circle must never exceed 1.6 seconds. In those quick seconds, the athlete rules, tied to the others by the thread of anonymity. Language is shared without speaking. Glances exchanged while watching the next throw, sharing good days and bad days that the world will never see. These tracks are like permanent waiting rooms, passing through them generation after generation, lasting decades. The lucky few get to rest and turn training into world-class performances followed by medals and adulation. For others, it’s a grind that matches the semi and truck going down the hill. In the early sun of Patiala, as fans seek the shade of eucalyptus and banyan trees, athletes hope that one day their private universe will finally align with the Asian Games, World Cup or Olympic stage. Stubbornness and hope, like blood itself, run through each of them.
This ride is powered by Omkar Nanda, the U18 champion moving up to the U20 category. After the 16.03 throw, he fouls and talks to his coach and watches the others. In The Running Ground, author Nicholas Thompson writes, “Over the years, the sport has shifted my imagination and sense of self.” This transformation happens in all athletes. They don’t appeal to fans; even a packed NIS Patiala would hardly cross 500 people. Nanda, like other throwers, must look inward. He can’t turn to the stands to demand synchronized clapping to gain momentum. His third throw gains height, landing at 17.85m. His right arm shoots up, not in subdued celebration, but as an announcement that he has mastered the moment. On his sixth throw, he manages 17.51m. Only two others crossed the 17 m mark, barely, with distances of 17.01 m and 17.02 m. Ommkar Prasad Nanda trains at Patiala
Dennis Mitchell, Sha’Carri Richardson’s coach, calls the 100m “one of the most distinctive things an individual can do.” Bowlers may disagree. Just watch Ryan Crouser, Joe Kovacs, Leonardo Fabbri or India’s Tajinder Pal Singh Toor. It was Toor, the Asian Games champion whom Nanda saw at the 2017 Asian Championships, who “inspired me to take the sport more seriously”.
Technique over strength, patience over noise
NIS is an oasis of obsession. Eschewing the digital frenzy that permeates modern life, these athletes are shaping their destiny in a landscape that you and I only notice when the medals sparkle. They are embedded in their own creation. In Patiala, you feel the extent of the isolation. Two hundred souls: teammates, family and a special group of workers taking a break from laying the artificial pitch next door, sitting on the steps watching the discus and hammer throwers. They’re probably wondering how that translates into a living. However, for the athletes, the 2026 season was taking the first uncertain steps.
Like a pitch or field, the throwing ring is a stage where the athlete cannot hide. Take Shivam Lokhare to javelin course. This event attracts the most fans; all draped over the fence separating the track from the eucalypts. Lokhare takes the first throw.Eyes are also on Kishore Jena, the reigning Asian Games silver medalist who has battled injuries for the past year. Lokhare runs like a warrior with his spear raised. The throw is good: 81.08m. It is India’s first throw over 80 meters this year – 4th best in the world. No legitimate throw follows from Lokhar; limps from a swollen knee. Anand Singh clears 75m, while Jena’s best lands at 74.75m. As dusk falls, the throwers come out, each lost in thought. Not touching 80m brings its own questions. Since moving from NIS Patiala to Reliance Mumbai, Jena has battled injuries and herself. Patiala reminds him of better times; it is one of the many battles he fights. Is Shivam Lokhare the next big thing in Indian athletics?
Then there is Nishchay Phogat, a talented under-18 shot putter and discus thrower. At 6’4” plus he is officially recorded only as “Nishchay”. He probably avoids the extra attention that comes with a last name like “Phogat.” The Haryana boy, who won gold in the under-18 shot put (19.78m) and discus (63.90m), repeated his 2025 performances at the national junior championships. His mother Purnima, a former hurler, is watching from the sidelines. Nishchay is coming back from injury and eyeing the 2026 World Junior Championships in August.
“My aim is to give my best performance at the U20 World Championship and aim for a gold medal,” says Nishchay. “In men’s discus or shot put, no Indian has won gold at this level. It’s been 10 years since Neeraj won gold in 2016, so my aim is to make sure India wins another.” Nischay Phogat won the 2025 Junior Nationals in the discus.
Whether seniors or juniors, the pressures are the same: immense expectations and a narrow window of success. One wonders what goes through their minds as they themselves work on hundreds of throws for an opportunity that comes once every four years. Perhaps their affinity with these inanimate objects is deeper than their connection with humans; they speak to steel and aluminum, and objects come to life only in their hands – the shot and spin of the discus, the whirling of the hammer, the spear quivering in anticipation of the record.
Ujjawal Choudhary does not look like a typical discus player. Wired and built like a middle distance runner, he is a genuine athlete. No thigh or arm slapping. He simply steps into the circle, makes one and a half rotations, and the disc flies. His technique needs fine-tuning, yet he generates enough speed to produce a final throw of 60.03m. “It’s all about technique and speed,” explains Ujjawal. “Everyone has power. Power doesn’t make a difference, technique does.” Ujjwal Chowdhary is not a typical discus player
In the women’s event, Deepika had improved by 54.64m earlier this year but struggled to find her rhythm today and finished with a best of 52.88m. Sanjana Choudhary, 26, won the title with an opening throw of 54.20m. It was a tough day for the women but the season is young.
Everyone is focusing on the Commonwealth and Asian Games. Between those championships are hundreds of days, a four-year drought where the only fuel is stubborn hope. There is a common struggle. The athlete must believe that the 5:00 session in April 2026 determines his position in August 2028; otherwise the whole structure will collapse like a house of cards.
This belief is visible in the way an Ujjawal or Nanda adjusts his grip after a foul. Not with frustration, but with patience. Some stories will be victorious; others will be full of the “almosts” that haunt Indian sporting history. But there is no place for cynicism in Olympic sport. The flag is hope and romance is found in that motley group of 200 watching the spear fly into the afternoon sun. Most will not reach the podium. They will return to their circles where the Solidarity of Hope will continue to burn brightly.
– The end
Issued by:
Kingshuk Kusari
Published on:
24 March 2026 10:58 IST
