Nikhat Zareen on life, superstition and boxing in the shadow of an icon

Weeks before she went to Turkey and brought home a gold, Zareen spoke with Vaibhav Raghunandan

“It’s not like that, and I’m not like that.” Nikhat Zareen rocks back in her chair laughing, a glint in her eye. We’re talking about superstitions, except neither of us uses the word. Zareen is narrating the story of her gold at the Strandja Memorial in Sofia, Bulgaria, in February this year, and how she felt “a rush of positivity” the moment she was handed her hotel room key. It was the same room she’d stayed in when she won gold at the tournament in 2019.

It’s late morning in mid-March, and Zareen, 25, is doing this interview sitting in a hotel room in Delhi. She is working on cutting weight for the selection trials of the Asian Games. The evening prior she sealed her spot on the Indian team for the World Championships in Turkey. In exactly 10 weeks (on May 19), she’ll win gold at the event, becoming only the fifth Indian woman to do so. But we aren’t there yet.

This is a virtual brunch meeting, with a lot more daydreaming about food than actual food in it. We talk about biryani and paani poori, pizzas and “ma ke haath ka khaana (food cooked by her mother)”, but she’s not eating anything, not right now. Not till the weigh-ins. “Khao aap, but lalchana mat (you eat, but don’t tempt me),” she laughs. Ridden with guilt, sitting in Giridih, Jharkhand, I push my noodles away. We talk about things that create superstition, and what it all means. 

Call it prescience or peskiness, I assume this is a great moment to point out that in 2011, when she won gold at the Junior World Championships, the event was held in Turkey, too. “Oooooo, I know,” she says, extending the last syllable for effect. 

“But,” she repeats, “it’s not like that and I’m not (superstitious).” What she is is a world champion. In Turkey. Again. Eleven years after becoming junior world champion, three since suffering the ignominy and humiliation of her idol’s taunts, and one since feeling the pain of missing an Olympics that her close friends Neeraj Chopra and Vinesh Phogat went for, she has got the gold she was marked for — and one she always thought she deserved. 

As a child growing up in Nizamabad, Telangana, Zareen’s proclivity for mischief exasperated her father, Jameel Ahmed, to the point where he enrolled her into a club’s athletics programme. Sprinting was fun, but it didn’t last long. And when she took up boxing, it invited scorn and resistance from neighbours (and even her mother) who wondered what a young girl was doing wearing shorts or coming back home with bruises. As a junior growing up and entering the national fold, she faced scorn from her seniors — one of whom, Mary Kom, was the reigning queen of her weight category. “She’s worked hard to get here” is an old battle trope of sports journalism features, but in Zareen’s case the truth is that even her hard work appeared meaningless because of Mary Kom’s stature, accomplishments and sway. 

Everyone has salivated over this battle between two women, across generations, from marginalised, minority communities — one keen to protect her dominion and the other keen to get a chance to prove herself. While Mary Kom has banished a lot of stereotypes about girls from the Northeast with her achievements, an undercurrent of prejudice towards Zareen remained, if not outside then within the boxing circle itself. This is, after all, a sport dominated by north India.

When Mary Kom announced she wouldn’t be part of the World Championships trials to “focus on the Commonwealth Games”, Zareen took her chance with both hands (taped and gloved). It was a clear sign that while there would be no passing of the baton, at the very least the grip had loosened. 

“I can’t waste this opportunity,” she says to me. “I’m hungrier than before. I’ve been on the sidelines for five years. I’d say to myself, ‘My time will come’, and now it has. But there’s a whole line of girls waiting to take my spot. I can’t take this lightly.”

This is self-realisation and humility, traits that pugilists, traditionally, choose to drop by the wayside. The sweet science demands a serving of brashness with some arrogance for dessert. Almost immediately, though, she changes tack. And the pugilist emerges. “But I’m not going to let go. I want to win medals.”

And at the very first chance, she’s coming back with gold. 

She talks a bit like she boxes. Quick, open, deceptive, seemingly everywhere at once. She leapt in the air right after the judges’ decision gave her gold. Stepping out of the ring, she was in tears. “I was thinking of my mother and father, and all they went through for this,” she said after the big victory. At the virtual pre-conference after, the charming playfulness was back. Her first question — “Am I trending on Twitter? I’ve always wanted to trend on Twitter” — summed it all up.  

“Psychologically, she’s up there now. The losses, the rejection, the turmoil, they strengthened her,” Emani Chiranjeevi, her former coach, says. “Lots of boxers fall under pressure on their debut at the World Championships. And mind you, it was abroad also.”

There’s a lot of records that have come with this gold. Zareen joins an elite list of Indian women boxers now — of the four to have won gold at the World Championships before her, only Mary Kom has won it abroad. She’s the first Indian woman boxer in over a decade not called Mary Kom to have won gold at the World Championships. She’s trending on Twitter, but the real test will begin now. “The next step is the Olympics,” Chiranjeevi says. “And that will be tougher.” 

But first there’ll be the Commonwealth Games trials in June. From being an afterthought and a  struggler to becoming the main draw, life has suddenly come at her fast. Recently sponsored by Adidas and managed by Baseline, Zareen has only just discovered the perks of success. The key  is to stay focused, ensure consistency. 

For Zareen, those who knew her in her darkest moments always come first. They’re who she falls back on. “I know Chiranjeevi sir doesn’t train me anymore, but if I go to Hyderabad and meet him and need some help, he’ll be ready,” she says. “My school teachers, my PT teacher, they always ask about me. My friends, not boxing friends, mind you, but school and college friends, they’re always there for me. I’ll work hard and do good by them and me.”

Sitting across the screen on that March morning, she adds, “When you win, the first thing people say is, ‘You must be partying’. But I hardly manage to find time to give myself a treat. All of this… they are small steps. There’s a lot more to come.”