It is unthinkable that Jadhav would’ve boasted about 1952 sitting in that house. Bragging was one of the many vices which Jadhav, a born pahelwan, avoided earnestly all his life. Mild-mannered to a fault, the only time he spoke up was when, at the Olympic trials in Chennai ahead of Helsinki, brazen officials ruled against him and pushed for their own show-pony in the 125-pound bantamweight category. Writing to the Maharaja of Patiala, he earned a re-trial at Kolkata — and the ticket to Finland.

Snubs weren’t uncommon in his life. But a chance at Helsinki to prove his worth mattered to him more than anything else he ever did.

SMALL IS BIG
Small-statured at 5’5”, Jadhav never inspired awe — and he accepted that. But stripped to his traditional langot — the wrestler-wear — the strength built from his daily 11-mile run and 2000 sit-ups could surprise any challenger who had earlier scoffed at the little man. And there were many who scoffed.

At Nasik, a year before he got noticed and was pitchforked into the wrestling squad that went to the London Games in 1948, Jadhav was pitted into a bout for an insulting sum of Re 1, when stakes ritually started at Rs 51. Jadhav didn’t complain. When an opponent was found, he was pinned to the ground within seconds. The stakes rose to Rs 51 and then Rs 151 at the insistence of patron Manikrao of Baroda, but the time taken to end the bout was the same 5-10 seconds. “They said that he could effect the Multani hold — a move difficult to execute but spectacular when applied — in the small time it took a tobacco-chewing villager to tire of it and spit it out,” says Ranjit.

... contd.