Of his chances at Jakarta, rower Dattu Bhokanal derives confidence from the way he performed at Rio. (Source: AP File)
After some coaxing, Dattu Bhokanal finally agreed to go out for a movie with his friends. He was on a vacation at home, a few months after returning from the Rio Olympics. It, though, wasn’t a period of peace for the 27-year-old – he was clutched with depression.
Before he travelled to Brazil, his mother had a fall and slipped into a coma after sustaining injuries to her brain. For several months, Bhokanal trained and rowed in the single sculls category with a wandering mind. No matter where he was, even if it was at the Olympics, his mind was with his mother back in his village Talegaon, in Maharashtra’s Nasik district. At the end of that year, she eventually succumbed.
For months thereon, Bhokanal remained a towering 6-foot-3 athlete brimming with potential, but plagued with a heavy heart, which couldn’t find any solace or satisfaction in his chosen sport. Finally, after several attempts by coaches and friends to lighten his mood, Bhokanal decided to go for a movie, just to get his mind away from all he had been through. But it didn’t. “The problem with Indian movies is that there is always a mother-father bit,” he says.
“We bought the tickets, went inside the hall, then in the first few minutes there was an emotional scene with the whole mother-father thing that reminded me of my own life. Mujhe roona aaya, main uth ke nikal gaya.” (I started crying and left the room)
For a year after the Games, the depression-riddled mind of the tall Army rower struggled to find any positive in life. The post-Olympic period itself creates an interminable void. After countless hours of training to prepare for the grandest event in the world, there’s a certain emptiness that creeps in. Suddenly, there’s nothing to aspire for.
At Rio, his mind was flitting between the two-kilometre stretch of the Rodrigo de Freitas Lagoon in Copacabana and his mother in Talegaon, who would never recognize him again. A while later, there was no Olympics. “Aur maata bhi chali gayi,” he says.
Not to discount the intense physical rigour—it’s a challenge that tests the physical prowess of the entire body. The upper body commands the oars, while the lower half and back provide the oomph for propulsion. For the length of the course, there isn’t much creative outlets, like in most other sports. Take football for example, there is a scope for flair (for example, fancy step-overs to dislodge defenders). In rowing, essentially, there’s just one basic movement repeated over and over again, which gives the sport a mundane feeling.
The inherent mundanity gives enough mental space to drift, brood over other things than the immediate task at hand. “I used to train, lekin dil aur mann se nahi,” he says. “Dimag rowing pe nahi rehta tha. Itna depression main chala gaya ke uthne ke liye mujhe ek saal laga.” But he did get up, and in good time for the upcoming Asian Games. While there were several distractions to deal with before going to Rio, his mind is focused on the race in Palembang.
On a dull morning at the Army Rowing Node in Pune, Bhokanal casually picks his 14 kg boat out of the silent water, gently peppered by a light drizzle, and hoists it on a shoulder. He marches smartly, even signaling a thumbs-up to a few passers-by. Moments later, he’s downstairs in his room, grinding a few almonds to prepare his usual protein-shake. “Ab sab ek automatic aadat ho gaya hai,” he says with a smile. He feels fresh and relaxed, even after the inertia of his daily routine was disturbed in December by the introduction of renowned Romanian coach Nicolae Gioga, who guided his country’s women’s team to five gold medals over the 1996 and 2000 Olympics.
Gioga’s style and focus has been a sharp contrast to American coach Paul Mokha before the Olympics. Different, even contradictory, yet effective. “The US coach used to focus a lot on using the upper body, building the upper body and using the upper body to propel,” he explains.
“Gioga is putting a lot of emphasis on the lower body. He wants the upper body for the technique, but generate the power from the lower body.”
The change in focus meant Bhokanal had to spend a decent amount of time in the gym, strengthening his long legs. At the same time, he has maintained the upper body physicality. “It’s like I’ve had the best of both worlds,” he says. “I feel like a more well-rounded athlete because the entire body has developed.”
Of his chances at Jakarta, he derives confidence from the way he performed at Rio. A 13th-placed finish made it not only the best result by an Indian but also the best finish by an Asian rower at that edition. In the single sculls class, Gioga is expecting a gold medal, but not without a fight. “Dattu is a bit faster than what he was, but I evaluate the competition,” says the 66-year-old. “The ‘enemy’ can be faster. But it depends on what happens that day. Maybe, he will be one second slower or two seconds faster.” His timing in training has so far been an average 7:02 min, which is better than the 7:05 Mohsen Shadi of Iran needed for gold at the 2014 Asian Games at Incheon. According to Gioga though, the ‘enemy’ in Indonesia will be the weather. At the Jakabaring Rowing Lake in Palembang, the Romanian expects a heavy headwind coming in from the side, which will create waves on a rowing course that should ideally have a flat water surface. The conditions in no way favour the Indians. “For big waves we speak about brute capacity, for flat water, you speak about rowing skill,” he explains. “We are not so powerful, so we need to develop our skill to get speed. But it seems the water will be wilder and you need to be strong. Some of our enemies are animals, they are Herculean, powerful. We are so far from being animals,” he adds. Since he took up the national team in December, Gioga has forged a strong relationship with his wards. Though he did come in with new ideas and was unfamiliar with the local dialect, he asserts that language was never a barrier. “I didn’t have any problem because I knew the golden rowing language. I used to speak with them in the gold medal rowing language, which they understood,” he says. He has, however, picked up a few choicest words – a staple set used often during training sessions. “Dushman, jazba, budhoo, chalaak,” he rattles out, counting on his fingers. “Bahut bahut aalsi,” he adds with a smile.
Under Gioga, many younger rowers have been added to the national camp. Crucially, each has improved by around 20 seconds and are a few seconds shy from the veterans (who have bettered their timing by around three seconds)–Dushyant Chauhan (bronze medallist at Incheon 2014), and the two Olympians Swaran Singh and Bhokanal.
It has provided greater competition within the pack, and in the long run, a larger depth. Currently, though, Bhokanal is still the shining light. The national champion, whose resolve to overcome the odds is what the youngsters want to emulate, is the silent role model, who calmly struts about his business. It took him a whole year to get over the tragedy and rekindle the pleasure in a sport for which he had to overcome his fear of water. Amid the mental chaos in 2016, he managed to get a commendable result at Rio. But as he prepares to battle the waves, and the ‘enemies’ in Palembang, he comes to the mega-event with a different mindset. “Pehle tension rehta tha. Leken ab ghar pe koi hai he nahi.”
There is joy again in a sport that follows a monotonous drill. But as he firmly grips the oars, steadies himself for great haul across two kilometres, and then heaves with as much power as his body can muster, he can afford a smile.