A Star is Reborn

People say we are re-born after death, but for me, it happened in my present life itself. I was born on February 27, 1986. Those who know Sandeep, the hockey player, wish me on this day. But those who truly understand me know that August 22 is what I consider my actual birth — the beginning of my new life. Though I do not cut a cake or celebrate, the day holds a special meaning. Mere zahan mein wo pal hamesha rehta hai (that moment is deeply etched in my heart). The moment that changed my life.

I was leading a normal life just like anyone my age. Part of the Indian hockey team, my world revolved around hockey, friends and my parents. I had played at the 2004 Olympics, and was looking forward to the 2006 World Cup in Germany. My teammate Rajpal and I boarded a train from Chandigarh, and were on our way to Delhi to catch a flight to Germany.

We had breakfast and were chatting. Suddenly, there was a loud noise and I felt a shooting pain in my back. Before I could grasp what was happening, I was lying on the floor of the compartment in a pool of blood. I had been shot by some random person. My World Cup dreams shattered, I was suddenly battling for my life…

People say bad times teach you a lot and that one incident changed my world. Maybe I am here today because of what took place four years back. I spent many months in the hospital while my teammates battled it out on the hockey field. There was a huge question mark over my life, I wasn’t even thinking of hockey then.

Two weeks after my surgery, a team of doctors came to my room and asked my family to wait outside. They told me, “According to our experience and your reports, you wouldn’t be able to get up from bed for at least six years.” I stared at them for a minute, and then asked them to leave me alone.

Their words rang in my ears for days. I wasn’t ready to give up. My body was in great pain, and my mind was pulling me in different directions. At this time, I wanted support. I took shelter in the only thing I had known for years. I asked my parents to get my hockey stick and from that day on, I slept with my stick by my bedside in the hospital — it became my motivating factor.

Often in life, we tend to take our parents and loved ones for granted, but that period taught me life’s greatest lesson. Family members are the only ones who stand by you, come what may. My mother is ten years younger than my father, but within a month of my injury, she began to look old. Her hair turned grey and she barely ate. My father and brother (also a hockey player) gave up everything, and were always there.

These might be small things in life, but I learnt to value them. Even today, they fear sending me out alone. On the other hand, my girlfriend left me after my injury, and even some of my teammates, whom I wouldn’t like to name, believed my career was as good as over.

During the nights when everyone was asleep, I would quietly get up, take the hockey stick in my hand, and try and walk. The pain was excruciating, all I would see was darkness… but giving up was not an option.

This went on for months. By this time, almost everyone had predicted — “Sandeep is finished, unlikely to play hockey ever, impossible to recover from a bullet injury.”

I read everything that was written about me, and turned it into motivation to recover as quickly as possible. My physiotherapy stints in the Netherlands put me on the path to recovery. Each day was a battle. I used to cook for myself, and spend close to seven to eight hours to develop my muscles again.

I was filled with pain and anger. The doctors put me through a strenuous workout, and I would often cry out in pain. But the urge to get back to the field kept me going.

I landed in Delhi in November 2006, and headed straight to the national camp in Rourkela, where the team was preparing for the Doha Asian Games. My teammates were stunned when I picked up a hockey stick and began training. I could run, do some drag-flicks, but had no power or stamina to sustain for long.

Before leaving for Doha, the team was supposed to play a match against the SAIL team. I requested the coaches to let me play. They fielded me for the last ten minutes, and I realised that I wasn’t too far away from the game. After the match, a journalist walked up to me and asked if I was Sandeep Singh’s relative. “You resemble Sandeep… his looks, his playing style,” he said, as I stood there smiling. No one could believe that I was back on the ground!

Of course, I couldn’t make it to the squad for the Asian Games or the Premier Hockey League thereafter, but I was back on the hockey field — the place where I belonged. The feeling was incomparable.

Azlan Shah Tournament in 2008 was my second stint as an international player, and I gave my all. Fortunately, I was back among goals, was named the captain next year, made my World Cup debut in 2010 and have now been conferred the Arjuna Award. God really has been kind.

I see all this as my belief in life and myself. My father always told me one thing. “Son, don’t ever forget your identity, your roots, for they will never fail you in life.” I hope I have been able to do justice to that.

As told to Harpreet Kaur Lamba