Few of us might have actually sat through a fencing bout. And fewer still might be able to name a fencer, if asked to. CA Bhavani Devi hadn't heard of the sport until it was introduced in her school in north Chennai. Losing miserably in the initial competitions spurred her to stick around in the sport until she managed to buck the trend. Her persistence finally paid off last week when she won gold in the sabre event at the Women's World Cup satellite tournament in Reykjavik, Iceland - India's first international gold medal in the sport.
Sabre fencing, to quote the American fencer Daryl Homer, is like Formula 1 racing - fast, aggressive and requiring split-second decision-making. Among the three Olympic disciplines - epee and foil being the others - sabre comes off as the domineering sibling. Left to pick between foil and sabre after the world body laid down the one-fencer-one-event rule, Bhavani chose the latter. What drew her to it is exactly what sets it apart from the other two events - blinding speed.
Competing in only her third satellite event, Bhavani (23), who has previously won medals at Commonwealth meets and U-23 Asian Championships, knows this win, which comes with a slice of history, is special. The medal has also goaded her to believe that a top-four finish in the next two events - Grand Prix (June 2-5, Moscow) and Asian Championships (June 15-20, Hong Kong) - isn't entirely out of reach. "No matter what I achieve later, no feeling can surpass this one," Bhavani tells ESPN from Livorno, Italy, where she trains for the most part of the year.
The daughter of a temple priest in Washermanpet in the southern Indian metropolis of Chennai, Bhavani says she'd never dreamed of a life in an intense combat sport. Neither is she certain of whether her parents fully comprehended the nature of the sport or the gravitas of her achievements. "Despite belonging to a conservative background my parents have never stopped me from pursuing what I like," she says, "Sport is far from a popular career choice for girls in my community (Tamil Brahmins) and my parents, even if they faced any flak over it from others, never let it affect me. They're just happy that I'm finding joy in what I do."
Having missed out on two Olympics - 2012 & 2016 - Bhavani feels she's on the right path for the Tokyo Games three years from now. "I was underprepared for London (2012) and lost out on Rio because I was too anxious and stressed out to be able to give my best in the qualifiers. Now, I have a better understanding of my abilities and a clearer picture of my goal."
One of the 20 elite athletes supported by GoSports foundation, a non-profit organization, Bhavani moved to Italy last year for training, uncertain of what lay in store. "The first couple of months were quite difficult. Particularly since few spoke English," she adds, "Now I'm used to this life. I cook my own food, train and do my own thing."
Also it's helped her solve the one constant problem in her career so far - not having a coach accompany her to competitions, because of inadequate funds. "You see 100-odd fencers huddled together with their coaches, family members and support staff and then look at yourself, all alone in a corner, it just unnerves you. The fear in your mind before a bout just hits the roof," she says, "Now things are better." With Italian coach Nicola Zanotti by her side for both training and most competitions, the results are showing.
""You can't think or plan during a bout. You just have to act.""
When in India, she trains at SAI Kerala, one of the few centres that offer training facilities in the sport, under coach Sagar Lagu. There's limited understanding, though, of sabre fencing in India. "It was only when I started training overseas that the difference struck me. Our method and approach in India is flawed since there are few experts," she says. Funds for the sport are also hard to come by. Though she receives financial assistance from the Tamil Nadu government, it's at times delayed and often not enough to cover all her expenses. In fact, she tells us, her coach in Italy is yet to be paid.
Bhavani's first international competition experience was a rather forgettable one. She was given a black card for turning up three minutes late for her bout. A black card is the highest quantum of penalty in fencing, one which results in expulsion from the tournament. "The hotel, the cheapest I could find, was far from the venue and I lost time in the commute," she says, "To be handed a black card was one of the most devastating moments of my life. My dream had turned into a nightmare. I remember sitting outside the competition hall by myself and crying for hours."
In a discipline that's rigged to reward speed and initiative, sharp reflexes and nimble footwork work in favour of the mode of combat - light, steel blades (which look more like a car antenna) with a front striking edge. "More than pace, it's about varying it smartly so that your opponent cannot anticipate your next move. You can't think or plan during a bout," Bhavani adds, "You just have to act."
A point in sabre can be scored by attacking the opponent, tracked by an electronic system, with the side or tip of the weapon anywhere on the upper torso, excluding hands, and each point lasts no more than a few seconds.
Faces and emotions tucked away behind fine mesh metallic grilles during bouts, all that spectators get to see is two lunging figures in full-body protective gear with whippy blades locked in combat. In Bhavani, fencing in India, obscure so far, may have found a name it can pin the sport to.
"I don't think people know what I look like," she says, laughing, "So I'm yet to put a face to it."