Our correspondent tries out being a wrestler at an akhada and learns that is not just your body that takes a beating
At 7 am, I reach the Captain Chand Roop Akhada at Azadpur in Delhi. I am ushered into a room full of burly, hefty men chatting and stripping down to their knickers. Now the last time I recollect being in such a room was during swimming lessons at a summer school camp, where I was the tallest and the odd one out.
My present situation is similar, with the exception that these men are taller and much stronger. I am still the odd one out. One of the wrestlers approaches me and hands me a green loincloth. “Wear this and step outside in five minutes,” are the cold instructions.

While I try to get myself covered in the tiny piece of cloth, time freezes. I can’t position the piece of loin cloth successfully. Seeing me struggling, the wrestlers take pity and give me suggestions on how to wear it. “Hold it higher, now pull it, tighten the knot.” Phew! The last tip is most important. After a few unsuccessful attempts, I manage the feat and glance at myself coyly in the mirror. I hear someone snigger. And it is no surprise as I look like a schoolboy with my spindly legs and skinny arms. The only comfort so far is the extra garment that I get to don — the jhaangia, a larger underwear. This is the finishing touch. I then muster courage and step into the open ground.

... contd.