Good artists borrow, great artists steal
Do you know that line? The one between avocation and a serious pursuit — you know, career wise?
Well, that line seems a bit blurry to me right now.
After shooting streets for almost two years, it seemed like the right time to capture more complete stories.
So I did what any wannabe “great artist” would do — I decided to recreate a documentary project that’s been so overdone that if it were meat, you’d probably throw it in the bin.
The oldest Akhara in Pune
As one resident tells me, the Chinchechi Talim was established in the mid-to-late 18th century around the time of Balaji Baji Rao, Prime Minister of the Maratha India.
The akhara — called a talim in Maharashtra — housing some thirty pehelwans stands smack in the middle of the street and behind a temple complex.
From the outside, it doesn’t look like much and is easy to miss if you’re not looking.
The door was open just a crack, so being the sly detective that I am, I peeked through the gap just to make sure I wasn’t at the wrong place. Then I let myself in very quietly, looking around for someone to approach.
This was when my inexperience with projects like this showed. I hadn’t sufficiently researched on the place and had no idea how these things worked — was there someone in-charge?
I didn’t even know what I was going to say!
Never skip leg day
Being a pehelwan isn’t easy. One is expected to maintain a monk like control over their sexual urges. It is also required of a pehelwan to lead a simple life — imagine no possessions.
With all the distractions out of the way, the pehelwans dedicate themselves to a life centered around training for strength — plenty of rest, cardio exercises early in the morning, heavy meals loaded with butter and fat, strength exercises and wrestling practices in the evenings before finally ending the day by ten o’ clock.
“We don’t wrestle for the money, we wrestle for honour.”
Things only a fighter would say
“How do you earn money?” I ask Karan. A naive question, to think of it now.
Wrestling runs in his blood, he tells me. Karan’s ancestors were also pehelwans.
He smiles and looks at me before answering.
“There’s some money in the competitions”, he says “but we don’t wrestle for the money, we wrestle for honour.”
Vinod
Although everyone one was really comfortable being in front of a camera, one person stood out and so much so, that he deserves an entire chapter on himself.
Vinod is a comedian. His antics outside the ring are to watch out for; but there’s one thing about him that I liked so much — this kid never shuts up!
Don’t misjudge him because of his size though, at sixteen, Vinod is the talim’s most talented young wrestler and has won competitions all over the country. With the sheer amount of energy he’s got, I don’t doubt that for a second.
“Where do you live in Delhi?” he asks me.
“I live in Gurgaon”, I say.
He then goes on to tell me about all the places in Delhi he’s visited. His eyes light up when he talks about it.
“Do you go to school?”
“Yep, school, kushti, I do it all!”
“Damn, this kid is going places,” I think to myself.
Vinod loves posing for the camera. For about half an hour, all I did was take pictures of him in different wrestling poses.
Life Beyond
Not all pehelwans are pursuing accolades or chasing after prizes.
I met a fellow engineering student — of whom there’s never a dearth in this country — who spoke to me about having troubles clearing his Engineering Mathematics examination.
“How much did you score in the subject?”, he asks.
“Around sixty-ish,” I lie. I figured it was better if I low-balled my score.
Turns out I should’ve low-balled further, or better still flunked the exam entirely because he was awed.
Other than the pehelwans, the talim is also open to other men. A lot of times, people prefer working out at the talim instead of going to a gym, mainly because they believe in the good-old Indian way of doing things.
Living in the Talim
Living in the same tiny complex, sharing every moment of joy and sadness, a brother-hood has formed between the men.
It’s amazing to see how all the aggression they bring into the ring simply dissolves as soon as the match is over.
They have their own inside jokes and references that they enjoy so much.
This one incident that occurred in my presence is a confirmation of just that —
Vinod was mocking a slightly heavier kid, Devrat, calling him gabbar and quite enjoying himself at that.
The two then got into a heated argument that might have gotten worse but then Vinod unexpectedly turned to me, and said —
“Look at him, still taking pictures!”
And that cracked everybody up.
I’m probably just kidding myself, by thinking that I had anything to do with it but I’m glad that poking around with the camera helped alleviate the tension.
This was my first photojournalism project. Please do tell me about your thoughts on it in the comments or email at aayushyadav96@gmail.com
