Becoming All India GUJ-JUDO Champion

It all started when I was just 7 years old. Imagine a tiny version of me, all wide-eyed and ready to tackle the world of martial arts, stepping onto the mat for the very first time. I didn't know much, except that I was about to get tossed around like a salad at a dinner party. And toss me, they did. I remember that first experience vividly—getting flung onto the mat, my body going from zero to "ouch" in a split second. Was it painful? Yes. Was it embarrassing? Absolutely. But here’s the thing: it was also a whole lot of fun.

You might be thinking, “How did that kid keep coming back after getting tossed like a ragdoll?” Well, pain is temporary, but the thrill of learning something new is forever. After every throw, every fall, and every ache, I kept coming back for more. I wasn't just learning judo; I was learning how to handle pain, stay persistent, and most importantly, enjoy the process. If there's one thing I learned from those early days, it’s that judo isn’t just about physical strength; it’s about mental toughness and having fun while you're at it.

The Grind: Early Mornings and Weekend Sweat Sessions

As I grew older, my dedication became my best friend. By the time I was in my teens, I was waking up at the crack of dawn—much to the horror of my pillow—putting on my gi, and heading to the dojo for training with my coach. My coach wasn’t exactly known for taking it easy on me. In fact, if there was a "tough love" award, he'd win it hands down. Every training session was intense, every move felt like it was an opportunity for me to either fail miserably or rise to the challenge. Spoiler alert: I failed a lot, but I also got back up a lot.

Weekdays were about conditioning and technique, but weekends? Weekends were a whole new level of intense. That's when the real fun began. I’d spend hours running, sweating buckets, and learning throws that, at the time, seemed like they required the strength of a superhero. To say I was drenched by the end of a weekend session would be an understatement. It wasn’t just sweat; it was proof of my dedication.

Every summer, while most kids were off playing video games and catching up on sleep, I was in the dojo, my gi sticking to me like glue, my muscles screaming, and my focus sharper than ever. I was obsessed with improving. Each summer was spent on repetition, sweat, and perfecting the art of throwing people down—because if I couldn’t throw them, what was the point of doing judo? And let me tell you, there were plenty of moments when I’d be flat on my back, wondering, “Why am I doing this?” But then, the next day, I’d be back at it again. And again. And again.

From White Belt to Brown Belt: Progress and Perseverance

Over the years, I climbed the judo ladder, earning belts, each one representing a step closer to my ultimate goal—a black belt. But before I could start daydreaming about that sweet black belt, I had to pass through the brown belt stage. And let me tell you, brown belt was no joke. It was like judo’s version of high school—tough, intense, and full of competition.

By the time I earned my brown belt, I was starting to feel more confident in my abilities. I had learned how to fall (again, very important), how to get back up faster than I fell, and how to throw with the precision of a well-aimed boomerang. But it wasn’t just about the technique. It was about keeping my head cool under pressure. Because when you’re on that mat, it’s not just your body that’s at stake; it’s your mind. And trust me, the mental game in judo is just as important as the physical.

But here’s where it got really interesting: the pressure of competition.

The Final Showdown: All India State Championship

After years of training, countless matches, and dozens of tossed opponents (don’t worry, they always got up), the day finally arrived. It was time to compete in the All India State Association Championship. It was the moment I had been working for, the moment I would either become a judo legend or simply be remembered as the guy who kept getting tossed.

I showed up at the competition holding my brown belt proudly, knowing full well that this was the final test. After over 1,000 matches in various cities, there I was, facing off against some of the best judo competitors from across the country. The room was buzzing with anticipation, but inside, I was calm. I had my game face on, which looked a lot like “please don’t let me get thrown into the next century.”

As the rounds went on, I felt the intensity building. Each opponent seemed more skilled than the last, but I wasn’t about to back down. With every throw, I could feel my nerves slipping away, replaced by something far more powerful: confidence.

Then came the moment. The final match. It was me versus a formidable opponent. The crowd was on edge, and honestly, so was I. It was a battle of endurance, skill, and who could land the perfect throw first.

And then, it happened. The Uchimata—the inner thigh throw. If you know judo, you know that this throw is a killer. It’s not just any throw; it’s a showstopper. It’s a move that can win you a match in seconds, and I pulled it off in a glorious 12-second finish. BOOM. My opponent was on the mat, and I was standing tall. The crowd went wild. I went wild. I had won the national title.

The Aftermath: The Black Belt Dream and Teaching Others

Winning the national championship was a surreal moment. But you know what made it even more rewarding? The journey to that moment. The countless hours of training, the many bruises, the falls, the sweat, and the fact that I was doing it all with a smile on my face (most of the time).

But the real cherry on top came after the win. I earned my black belt, and with that, a new chapter began: teaching others. I became a coach, sharing everything I knew with young, hungry students who, just like me, had dreams of their own. It wasn’t just about teaching them judo; it was about teaching them resilience, determination, and the importance of having fun through all the hard work.

And so, my journey continues. From the first mat touch-down to national glory, I’ve learned one thing: judo is not just about throwing people—it’s about throwing yourself into the challenge, handling the falls, and rising stronger every time. It’s been an incredible ride, filled with laughs, sweat, and yes, even a few more tosses. But that’s the beauty of judo—it’s a never-ending journey of growth, and I’m just getting started.