At 18, she became the best archer in the world
Less than one per cent of girls play organised sports in India.
No woman in India has ever won an Olympic gold medal.
Jharkhand is the second poorest state in India.
A Google search for Deepika Kumari leads to about 4,87,000 results (0.42 seconds) and the search for Deepika Padukone about 8,330,000 results (0.41 seconds).
Now that we’ve gotten the numbers out of the way, I want to talk about Ladies
First, a Netflix Original documentary, released this month, on International Women’s Day. It showed up on the ‘recently added’ tab on the app. I spent Saturday evening devouring the 39-minutes documentary. And if you did too, then you also be experiencing mixed emotions towards the film (let’s call it a film for the purpose of attracting the masses). It chronicles the life of Deepika Kumari, who rose to become the No. 1 female archer in the world at the age of 18. At the same time, if you’ve seen films like Chak De! India, Mary Kom, Azhar, M.S. Dhoni: The Untold Story, Bhaag Milkha Bhaag, et al, you must be feeling disappointed — in these films and in yourself. By the way,
Chak De! India is one of my favourite films and I have the greatest respect for those involved in its making.
Then, why the disappointment, you may ask.
My dismay stems from the fact that while Chak De! India made me tearyeyed with its brilliant acting, hard- hitting facts, and of course, the playing of the country’s national anthem, all it took for Ladies First to do so was the simplicity and humility of its cast of non-actors.
As Deepika walks us through her journey of tribulations and triumphs, she says, “In our country, even those who are well-educated believe the girls cannot play sports.” I’m friends with women — actors, writers, managers, bankers, homemakers, journalists, architects — yet, suddenly I feel so small and I find myself hiding in the shadow of her words, “Often I feel like answering back, but then I feel if I respond with words, people might forget. But if I respond with my arrows, they’ll never forget.” I’m reminded of school assignments where we ask children to fill in the blanks — What girls can do vs What boys can. I’m reminded of the angry letter that sevenyear-old girl named Charlotte Benjamin wrote to Lego, “I went to a store and saw Legos in two sections, the pink and the blue. All the girls did is sit at home, go to bed, and shop. They had no jobs, but the boys went on adventures, worked, saved people, and had jobs, even swam with sharks. I want you to make more Lego girls and let them go on adventures and have fun. Ok?” I’m reminded of the news of Doritos nachos with a softer crunch, the munching sound of the genderfriendly snack seems loaded with an eardeafening volume.
Deepika hails from Ratu Chati, a village that is 15 km away from Ranchi (Jharkhand). I struggle to find it on the map. She represented India at the Rio de Janeiro Olympics in 2016 — that I find with ease — it’s a destination on my travel wishlist.
I feel ashamed and am lost in my thoughts when my husband draws me out, “This is how films on sports stars need to be made.” I nod, vehemently. He’s a hardcore cricket fan and even plays regularly.
We end up having a discussion that covers popular games, popular sports stars and box office returns. How Dhoni and Shahrukh Khan enjoy mass appeal. We acknowledge we owe it to Priyanka Chopra and Umang Kumar for making Mary Kom a familiar name. India’s first world-class female wrestlers, Geeta Phogat and Babita Kumari’s journey would not have had its impact or the message reached the masses if Aamir Khan’s Dangal had been a documentary.
I’m finding it hard to swallow our collective failure — of failing our daughters. And broadly, all our sportsmen and women. Why are we so afraid to tell stories of girls like Deepika and why do we feel the need to glamorise the harsh truth? A male voiceover in the film runs, “Girls belong at home, not on the sports field. Sports are meant only for boys.” Why isn’t the lack of sports facilities a national issue — why are we content with a breaking news items that flashes when a government official boards a flight (business class) to an international tournament? “These things need to change in our country. Perhaps it will take a lot of time. Eight years, 12 years?” says Deepika.
We need to be patient. I’ve understood that documentaries like Ladies First are not for the masses and also Deepika is not Twitter-worthy thus far — she is yet to win an Olympic gold. But until then, courtesy of director Uraaz Bahl and producer Shaana Diya, she will continue to speak to us from a small screen in our homes. She says, “I think men are scared of our freedom and that they will be left behind.” The good news is that her voice doesn’t need a 70mm back-up. Maneka Gandhi, the Indian minister of Women’s Affairs and Child Development, has pledged to set up a fund to support Deepika’s training and to support other female athletes.
As for me, I’ve joined her cheer squad. I’m smiling as I watch how Deepika’s plain blue scrunchie tying back her hair gives way to a hairstyle with a flick. I am in awe of her rising self-confidence. I feel pride as her father, an auto-rickshaw driver, shares, “The house you see here… I haven’t spent a single penny on it. I’ve built it with the money my daughter gave me.”
Her words strike home: “People often throw around the term, ‘Ladies First’. So, when girls want to advance in life, be it in education or sports, why not say ‘Ladies First’ when it really counts?”