Kabaddi's Crore-Rupee Question: Ritu Negi's Exclusion and the State's Silent Rule

Two days ago, Himachal Pradesh's sports department released its list. Three names — Pushpa Rana, Jyoti Thakur, Bhawna Thakur. One crore rupees each. But of the Himachal players in the Indian women's kabaddi squad that won gold at the Asian Games in Aichi-Nagoya, Japan, there were four. The fourth name is missing — Ritu Negi. Arjuna Awardee, former captain of the Indian kabaddi team, three consecutive Asian Games, two golds and one silver.

She has called it “deeply insulting.” In a decade of watching South Asian kabaddi, I have seen many lists, but rarely an exclusion this stark — four members of the same gold-winning squad, and one left out on paper alone.

For readers new to kabaddi: it is a contact team sport. One “raider” enters the opponent's half, chanting “kabaddi” continuously to prove he or she is not inhaling, touches a defender and returns to their own half. That single entry-and-return is the “raid,” capped at thirty seconds. The defence's job is the “tackle” — to hold the raider in their half. When an entire side is ruled out, it is an “all out”: the opponent gains two bonus points and the wiped-out team revives, a kind of reset. International and Asian Games play uses Standard Style on a 13m by 10m rectangular court; Punjab's rural circle-field “Circle Style” is a separate variant.

The Asian Games is kabaddi's biggest stage. Men's kabaddi has been a medal event since 2026, women's since 2026. Kabaddi is not an Olympic sport. That means, for a national team, Asian Games gold is the highest possible honour — nothing sits above it. That is precisely why the gold comes bundled with a state's one-crore-rupee award.

In women's kabaddi India has long been near-monopolistic — Iran is the primary challenger, with Bangladesh, South Korea, Chinese Taipei and Thailand on the next tier. That dominance means Himachal's award list is, in effect, rewarding members of a dominant squad; the question here is not merit, but which state counts the athlete as its own.

Right now the kabaddi question is not on the mat but on paper. Indian states claim athletes on the basis of domicile and domestic-competition representation, not birth. That is where Ritu Negi's name has stalled. She married into Haryana, but her own account is that she consistently represented Himachal, not Haryana, in domestic competition. She plays for Indian Railways professionally — a familiar route to livelihood for Indian athletes, one that has carried kabaddi and wrestling families for generations.

Stronger evidence comes from her father. He says that after the 2026 Asian Games, Himachal gave her an award — despite her marriage in Haryana. Same athlete, same marital status, same state; on the list in 2026, off it in 2026. That gap suggests the rule changed silently, or that something went wrong. And the Sports Minister himself says he does not know the reason — which suggests the decision may not have followed a clear rule.

Indian states have a standing practice of cash awards, sometimes up to one crore rupees, after major medals. The purpose is twofold — financial security for the athlete, and a signal to the next generation that the state stands behind this path. But the scheme runs on trust. If the reward is irregular and the conditions hidden, the signal flips — the athlete starts to feel that the paperwork itself is the toughest opponent.

This is where gender enters. Married women athletes are most exposed in domicile disputes — marry into another state and you can fall out of your “home state's” award, even after a lifetime of representing it. India's women's kabaddi has no professional league, so a state award and a government job are the real anchors. One crore rupees — roughly US$120,000 — is life-changing for a family of rural background. Three Himachal players got it; the fourth did not. And the list changed two days ago.

I was born in Bangladesh and now write on kabaddi from Pakistan. In both our countries, athletes' livelihoods rest heavily on government or departmental jobs — WAPDA or army teams in Pakistan, the National Sports Council and job quotas in Bangladesh. The systems differ, and so do the histories; but the puzzle is the same — who gives, on what terms, and is the decision written down anywhere. Where the rule is unwritten, the reward itself becomes uncertain. And an uncertain reward stops being a reward to an athlete. Every award list now reads to me like a body moving through a state's story — without clear rules, nobody knows where it stops.

One thing needs stating. Ritu Negi's exclusion is not a question of merit. Four from the same gold squad, three rewarded. The question is which body the state counts as its own. She won Asian Games gold herself, took the Arjuna Award, captained the side — merit leaves no room for doubt. “Insult” is her word, not a neutral fact; but after the 2026 precedent, the word does not ring hollow.

There is another layer — politics. Ritu Negi was congratulated by former Chief Minister Jairam Thakur and MP Anurag Thakur — both in the opposition. She is off the list of the current Sukhu government. At a stage as large as the Asian Games, a state award is also a political message — which state claims which triumph. So when a list changes, the suspicion arises that the call was not a sporting one.

The Sports Minister has said he will examine the file and discuss it with the Chief Minister. That is the normal path. But the real test is whether the review produces a written, equal rule for everyone, or merely restores one person. Restoring Ritu Negi alone is a fix, not a rule. The root of the problem is not personal but structural — a clear definition of how domicile, marriage and state claims fit together. The first becomes a precedent for other states; the second leaves the problem exactly where it was.

I write about sport because it is where time becomes visible. And here time shows an empty stand — the empty stadium taught me that silence is also a crowd. A list changes, no one explains why, and an Arjuna-winning captain stands looking for an answer. On the kabaddi mat a raider must hold his breath for thirty seconds; how long an administration can hold its own, Ritu Negi's next list will tell us.