You don’t just rewatch Chandu Champion after this much time; it gets people talking. And for the man at the centre of it all, Petkar, the movie has been a catalyst for a kind of recognition he didn’t have before. Then there is the matter of Kartik’s hard-nosed preparation, which still has both sportsmen and movie buffs in awe.
A two-year impact that changed how India sees para-athletes
Petkar would have you believe the last couple of years have been a turning point. The film, in his view, was more than a retelling of what happened; it put a spotlight on a side of the journey most had not seen up close.
The change is in the awareness, he says. Folks will come up to him and tell him the movie has altered their perspective on resilience, and what’s more, on the state of para-sport in the country.
We’ve gone from feeling sorry for them to having some respect for them. Para-athletes are being seen for what they are: top-tier competitors with as much heart as the next person. You can argue we have some ground to make up on the infrastructure front, but the attitude is changing.
Inside Kartik Aaryan’s grind: pain, no doubles, and discipline
Tridev Pandey, the national-level boxer who put Kartik through his paces, has a lot of time for the kind of student who makes a tough job of it with pure drive. You can teach form in an hour or two, but a fast study makes the work go smoother.
There was one moment in a key fight scene that stuck with the coach. The plan was called off and something else was put in its place. Kartik went with a combo they hadn’t even run through and put it over, in spite of the hurt.
Pandey can think of three times in training when a different actor might have put a pin in it and brought in a double. Not Kartik. In Kashmir, he had to put Vijay Raaz on his shoulder for an army bit and did it with a bad shoulder to boot. He was having none of the easy way out.
And he wasn’t done for the day. After a morning of work and shooting to 5, he was back at the boxing ring in the evening, not entirely put together. The coach saw some trouble in the wrists and shoulders during those sessions, but the focus never wavered.
It is an unusual mix, Pandey will tell you: the long hours, the physical toll, and the kind of concentration you don’t often come across. That is why the film has the weight it does.
Why the portrayal connected with Petkar
It wasn’t enough for Petkar that the performance nailed the athletic side of things. It had to be the whole experience – the letdowns, the need to put up a front. Kartik, he says, didn’t just put on a show of winning; he let you in on the frustration and the work that made it possible.
That kind of truth is what put them on the same page.
You could tell from the get-go that the actor was in it for the right reasons. He put some real curiosity and honesty into the story, wanting to get at the heart of what made those key moments matter. And the kind of trust you build in a room like that has a way of lasting well after the cameras are put away.
Then there is Petkar. Put him in front of a screen to see his own history and you can see it riles up some old memories. But there’s pride in it, too. “The film gives you a way to look at the hard times as something you overcame,” he says. “It’s proof that if you put in the work, you come out with something to show for it.”
What made the sport ring true
If you ask Tridev, the reason the movie works is the rapport between the director and the lead. “Kabir and Kartik were in lockstep,” he’ll tell you. They both wanted to put the body on display and then back it up with a performance to match.
It’s in the little things, he points out. Like when a mouthguard goes down and has to be put back in before play starts. You don’t stage that; you live it. That’s what gives the drama its texture.
Off the set, where the relationship stands
Petkar will be the first to say that what he and Kartik have is no longer just a case of professional courtesy. It’s become personal. They don’t talk every day, but they do stay in touch. There’s a give-and-take to it. “Kartik has let the film mean something to him in the long run,” Petkar says. “We have a lot of time for one another, and it’s the real thing.”
From being a name to being known
Before this, a lot of folks hadn’t heard the whole of his tale. Now, as India’s first Paralympic gold medalist, he’s not some factoid in a pub quiz but a guy with a story people want to be moved by.
He’s not blind to what still needs to be done-fairer treatment, better facilities, the works. But he sees the tide turning. “If a movie can be part of that, so be it.”
Some of the changes he notices:
– His path is more of a household word
– Para-sport is getting the respect it’s due, not just pity
– There’s a new kind of pride in our Paralympic past
Awards and all that
Let the awards season make its noise. The ones who were there for the making of this one are more interested in the hard yards. Tridev will rattle off the hours put in, the nicks and bruises, the fact that there was no double to hide behind. And Petkar has nothing but good words for Kartik’s straight-shooting approach.
In the end, it’s not about the hardware. It’s about opening up the world of sport for the viewer and putting the para-athlete in their place as a contender. That’s what matters to him.
And if you listen to the people in the know, they’ll tell you the same about Kartik: he’s quick on the uptake, can take a hit, and is 100 per cent in. Ring or pool, he was there for it.
So when you put on Chandu Champion for its second anniversary, that’s what you’re left with. A movie with some grit to it, an athlete with a rekindled sense of self, and a turn in front of the camera that any pro would nod at.
