Forced into the hands of renowned Judo coach Biranchi Das by a mother unable to look after him, Budhia Singh was an ordinary, if especially foul-mouthed, child, with a particularly bleak future. Ordered to run laps of the judo area by Das one morning, the three-year old Singh did not stop until his coach returned hours later; expert enough to recognize sporting talent when he saw it, Das took the young tearaway under his arm and set course for Olympic success. Gemma Atwal's Marathon Boy is the tale of how the coach's dream was cruelled at every step by over-zealous child welfare officials, a corrupt political establishment and Das' own narcissism.
Atwal's documentary is not neutral; early on she establishes herself firmly in camp with Das, who without accepting a cent from state coffers, operates a Judo school that also functions as an orphanage for slum children like Budhia Singh. The relationship between coach and protégé is shown to be warmer and more intimate than the description proffered by Child Welfare officials, who are quickly drawn by the frenzied media attention to Singh's exertions (he had run numerous marathons by the time he turned 4). Banning the state's young star from running, but allowing him to stay in the custody of his coach (soon-to-be father), the state challenges the machismo within Das. Unfazed, he refuses to accept the end of the Olympic dream - but whose dream is it really? Does Singh, at 4 or 5, really know what Olympic participation would mean, other than pleasing his coach? Drawing on footage from over five years, Das is portrayed as the flawed hero at the heart of a saga that quickly grows out of hand. His own friends and family essentially narrate the footage revealing the relentlessness with which he attacks the officials that prevent Budhia from running and, by extension therefore, prevent Das from having the last laugh in his running battle with the authorities. In a state and society so clearly corrupt and unwilling to accept such open brinkmanship, Das' fate looms well before he is in fact killed.
The tragedy, as the film's final shots of Budhia in a private school and with a sporting scholarship show, is the blatant pettiness of the whole struggle. Das fell victim not to the state but his own ego. The state did not wish to see Singh's ability curtailed, nothing would please them more than a local sporting star; they wished only for Das to admit his subservience to officialdom, something he was unwilling to do. Does he deserve admiration for his courage, if that was what it was, to stand up to a system that desired such obsequious behaviour? Or is the real tragedy, as I believe, that he couldn't look past the loss of face to see that it was in both his and Budhia's best interests to accept the state of affairs, however morally corrupt? I'll be following Budhia's fate closely. Regardless of who coaches him, the boy can really run.
Concluding Thought: Agassi, Woods, Beckham...they all started at similar ages. Singh's flaw was not his age, it was his sport. We look upon the exertions of running somehow differently.
Atwal's documentary is not neutral; early on she establishes herself firmly in camp with Das, who without accepting a cent from state coffers, operates a Judo school that also functions as an orphanage for slum children like Budhia Singh. The relationship between coach and protégé is shown to be warmer and more intimate than the description proffered by Child Welfare officials, who are quickly drawn by the frenzied media attention to Singh's exertions (he had run numerous marathons by the time he turned 4). Banning the state's young star from running, but allowing him to stay in the custody of his coach (soon-to-be father), the state challenges the machismo within Das. Unfazed, he refuses to accept the end of the Olympic dream - but whose dream is it really? Does Singh, at 4 or 5, really know what Olympic participation would mean, other than pleasing his coach? Drawing on footage from over five years, Das is portrayed as the flawed hero at the heart of a saga that quickly grows out of hand. His own friends and family essentially narrate the footage revealing the relentlessness with which he attacks the officials that prevent Budhia from running and, by extension therefore, prevent Das from having the last laugh in his running battle with the authorities. In a state and society so clearly corrupt and unwilling to accept such open brinkmanship, Das' fate looms well before he is in fact killed.
The tragedy, as the film's final shots of Budhia in a private school and with a sporting scholarship show, is the blatant pettiness of the whole struggle. Das fell victim not to the state but his own ego. The state did not wish to see Singh's ability curtailed, nothing would please them more than a local sporting star; they wished only for Das to admit his subservience to officialdom, something he was unwilling to do. Does he deserve admiration for his courage, if that was what it was, to stand up to a system that desired such obsequious behaviour? Or is the real tragedy, as I believe, that he couldn't look past the loss of face to see that it was in both his and Budhia's best interests to accept the state of affairs, however morally corrupt? I'll be following Budhia's fate closely. Regardless of who coaches him, the boy can really run.
Concluding Thought: Agassi, Woods, Beckham...they all started at similar ages. Singh's flaw was not his age, it was his sport. We look upon the exertions of running somehow differently.