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SUNDERGARH
Tribal GoalsHockey here is more than just a passion, it's the passport
to employment.
By Ruben Banerjee
Sikajore in Orissa's Sundergarh
district is an unlikely place for a hockey match. The field being atop a hillock, one
goalkeeper cannot see the other goalkeeper as both are on either side of the slopes. Yet
5,000 people turn up to watch and every match is contested with the vigour usually
reserved for a World Cup final. For the tribals of Sundergarh in the state's backyard,
hockey is everything. And nothing drives them more than the challenge of devouring the
trophy -- a goat that is tied on the sidelines bleating in fright.
Sport finds its purest expression when it is at its most
primitive, untouched by modernity, uncorrupted by greed. Throughout Sundergarh, the poor,
illiterate and mostly unemployed tribals just don't tire of winning and feasting on goats.
Few wield a proper hockey stick -- the men sport heavily taped sticks bent with old age,
children use tree branches curved naturally for the task. Bare feet are considered more
comfortable than any designer shoes with spikes, and shin guards simply don't exist. The
turf is usually more appropriate for grazing cows for dribbling. Still, from the moment
they learn to walk, children of Sundergarh start picking up the fundamentals of hockey.
"It's a case of eating hockey, sleeping hockey and drinking hockey," remarks
Akshay Kumar Choudhury, secretary of the Sundergarh District Hockey Association.
It is a collective craze that has yielded impressive results.
Last year when Orissa won the Girls' National Games championship, the entire squad
comprised tribal girls from Sundergarh. It was hardly an aberration. In 1997, the state
won the national sub-junior boys championship. In 1998 they did it again -- every player,
except one, was a Sundergarh boy.
If Punjab was once India's hockey factory, then Sundergarh is
gradually assuming a similar reputation. Two of India's most promising faces -- Dilip
Tirkey and Lazarus Barla -- carry the Sundergarh stamp. The women's squad is equally
represented; this year Jyoti Suneeta Kula and Mukta Khalko are in the team. Says Sylvester
Topno, an experienced coach: "Sundergarh has arrived on the scene as a centre for
excellence in hockey."
But this fascination for the game is not merely a
perpetuation of a tradition set by the missionaries. It is also an economic escape. In a
region married to poverty, hockey is a passport to employment. Scouts searching for hungry
talent just buy a train ticket to Sundergarh. Already the powerful Railways team includes
nine tribals; other teams like Indian Airlines and Bengal have adopted them as well.
Ironically, this outflow of talent explains why Orissa has never made it to the top of the
National Men's championship.
Still, hope here is the hockey stick. Bahamani, a young
tribal girl from Tileikani, points to the turf at her school, the Birsa Munda Vidayapeeth,
and says, "My future, if at all, lies in hockey." Most others at this
co-educational institute which routinely wins the girls' and boys' junior national
championships echo her refrain. Ranjit Minz, a 10th standard student, spends only an hour
with his books; on the hockey field after five hours he's still not ready to go home.
"The emphasis on hockey is understandable since the game
is the tribals' lifeline here," explains Choudhury. With village hockey a study in
indisciplined passion, there has been some effort to groom talent. The Rourkela Steel
Plant runs an academy. More comprehensive is the hockey learning centre in Panposh,
complete with astroturf, set up by the state directorate. Despite an odd rule that says
students must leave the centre after finishing Class X, it is a privileged place. During
talent searches, 1,500 young players turn up at each zone (the district is carved into 12
zones) to vie for the 70 seats available. As Pratap Satpathy, secretary of the Orissa
Hockey Association, says, "Raw talent is in plenty, it has to be cut and
polished." Could they be the jewels that India's faded hockey crown requires? |