GORIA
Easy not an option, no days off, never quit, be fearless…. But give me a big stage, a fight, a challenge, and something happens―I get real. I walk an inch taller.
-Usain Bolt, in his autobiography Usain Bolt: Faster Than Lightning
It was a serene winter morning in 2014. Students at the Universal Senior Secondary School, in Haryana’s Jhajjar district, had just finished their daily prayer. All of a sudden, one of the sports teachers, dramatically, began his own prayer. He asked the school’s principal, Sumedha Bhaker, to not send her daughter to Kota for medical coaching. Taken aback by this public request, Sumedha suggested he meet her in her office afterwards.
Just a few days back, Anil Jakhar had witnessed something extraordinary: 13-year-old Manu had picked up a gun for the first time, out of curiosity, and had struck the bullseye. Moved by a profound conviction, Jakhar, a former Army man and the school’s shooting instructor, knew he had seen a spark. “There are so many doctors in India,” he told Sumedha. “But there will be only one Manu Bhaker if you allow her to pursue shooting. She is destined to win a medal at the Olympics.”
Initially hesitant, Sumedha, a Sanskrit teacher who held her faith in academics, was eventually moved by the man’s words.
“Manu was different from other girls,” Jakhar told THE WEEK. “She was physically stronger, more confident and very articulate. She would always compete with everyone, and even beat them on most occasions.”
After short yet successful stints in various sports, Manu’s competitive spirit had drawn her to the shooting range in her family-run school in Goria village, about 110km from Delhi. She excelled in the Manipuri martial art thang ta and was also a boxer. But some questionable refereeing at a thang ta competition followed by an injury during a boxing bout had left young Manu dejected and her parents worried about her future as an athlete. They decided it was time for their daughter to focus on her studies and become a doctor. She was among the toppers in her class, after all.
“There was a lot of cheating in sports, mostly in the ones Manu tried,” Sumedha told THE WEEK. “So, she wanted something where her efforts would not go in vain. Also, we didn’t want her to get injured again. Then, Anil sir assured us that she would excel in shooting, and Manu was told that her results (shooting) would be displayed openly for all to see. There would be no room for cheating.”
And so, just as she had shocked Jakhar, Manu captivated everyone at the Dr Karni Singh Shooting Range in Delhi at a state-level competition. Her perfect 10s in her initial 10 shots led officials to suspect that the scoreboard had malfunctioned. It had not.
The talent was obvious, but the success was not achieved overnight. It took years of dedication and some high-profile failures for Manu to climb the podium twice at the 2024 Paris Olympics.
The second child of Ramkishan and Sumedha, Manu spent her first seven years in Goria, which is why the village claims her as its own. The roads and fields where Manu once played with her cousins are now adorned with her posters, big and small.
The Bhakers of Goria stand out; they are known to excel in studies as well as sports. “Two of Manu’s uncles are retired school principals, while one of her cousins is a scientist at the Bhabha Atomic Research Centre and another is a researcher at IIT Delhi,” said Mahinder Singh Bhaker, Manu’s youngest uncle and a state-level table tennis player. “She has inherited the same and has inspired my daughter to become a shooter.”
Her paternal family in Goria always believed Manu was different; her body language radiated confidence from an early age and she had a rare gift of persuasion that could bend even the firmest of wills. “When I used to walk her back home from school, she would run off and chase dogs. She was an active child and more spirited than her cousins and friends,” said her 83-year-old grandmother Daya Kaur, sitting in the courtyard of their sprawling ancestral home where Manu’s uncles and their families still live.
Mahinder joined in. “One day, when she was in the 9th grade, she asked me for my car key,” he said. “I initially refused as she was underage and hadn’t yet mastered driving. But with her unique charm, she convinced me, and to my surprise, drove the car flawlessly.”
For Sumedha, her Mani (her nickname for Manu) was not only different from others, but was also touched by God. When Manu was born, the hospital staff did not inform Sumedha immediately; they thought she would not accept her. “They did not realise that I had prayed for a daughter,” said Sumedha, who had thought of abortion a month into her pregnancy to focus on her studies. “Pregnant women weren’t allowed in my college hostel,” she said. “But my doctor advised me not to abort. I prayed for a daughter and continued college while caring for my one-and-a-half-year-old son. Despite the challenges, I never felt tired or hungry. I studied and also did household chores. I was running even two days before Manu was born. When she started excelling in life, I realised she was my shakti.”
The day Manu was born, Sumedha had her BEd examination. Her husband, part of the merchant navy, was on a faraway shore. “I was desperate to sit for my exams but the doctors didn’t release me as I had just delivered Manu,” she said. “My sister signed a release form and took me to my exam centre. The officials did not allow me in on seeing my condition. That’s when my sister fell on her knees and started begging them, forcing them to allow me in.”
In India, sacrifices made by parents often form the foundation of their children’s success. In Manu’s case, her mother was her pillar. “I wanted to raise my daughter differently,” said Sumedha. And to ensure this, she decided to forgo her dream teaching career. “As my husband was in the merchant navy, we were financially stable, so I chose not to work,” she said. “I wanted to make sure our children were raised with discipline and ideals as their father was home only six months a year. In 2006, I declined a Sanskrit teaching job.”
Sumedha would later join her husband’s family-run Universal school where Manu and her brother were studying. “I am a religious person and I imbibed in my children values and teachings of the Gita from an early age. That has stayed with them.”
Of course, Ramkishan, too, had a role to play in his daughter’s success, including giving her access to the best facilities and equipment. But, there were times he wanted Manu to learn some household chores. “Her sporting interests changed every six months, so we have boxing gloves, swords of thang ta, skates and other things at home,” said the merchant navy engineer. At times, he used to say no to Manu’s requests, but his wife would not hear of it. “Her mother insisted that I fulfil Manu’s wishes, even threatening me that I won’t be served food,” he said. “Manu would sweetly convince me with kisses and hand-holding. Sometimes, I used to refuse just to receive that [love from her].”
Ramkishan said that every time Manu found a new sport, it was Sumedha who would take the first step in finding the finest academies and instructors. For his part, Ramkishan never made Manu feel her dreams had boundaries. His unwavering support and Sumedha’s religious discipline blended perfectly as Manu started winning medals in competitions across the country.
Though she excelled in other sports, her mother believes shooting was her true calling. Within a few years under Jakhar’s mentorship, Manu made a name in the national shooting circuit. One of the standout events was the national shooting championship in Kerala in 2017, where she won nine golds. In the same year, she won a silver medal at the 2017 Asian Championship in the youth category.
2018, however, was the breakout year. She won gold medals on debut at the ISSF World Cup and at the Commonwealth Games. And it was during this time at a national camp at the Karni Singh Shooting Range that she met her current coach Jaspal Rana.
That would begin a roller-coaster ride, including lows such as Tokyo 2020 before the high of Paris 2024. Heading into the pandemic-hit Games in Japan, Manu was a favourite to medal. But a public fallout with Rana and then an equipment malfunction in qualification left Manu medal-less and devastated. She spiralled into deep depression. “She had practised for 12 hours daily without taking a holiday. I did not even go to pick her up from the airport as I could not see her sad face,” Sumedha said in a shaky voice, tears in her eyes. “Her smile was missing in all the photos. I told my husband and son, ‘I don’t care about medals, just bring back her happiness.’”
To take Manu away from shooting, the Bhakers flew to Kerala for a 25-day trip. “She worried about missing important events such as the meeting with prime minister sir,” said Ramkishan. “But we had already booked our holidays so we politely refused. Her mother cooked her favourite food and took her shopping. We encouraged her to keep working hard, believing that God would bless her efforts.”
Manu was such a mess that she thought of quitting shooting. The parents knew that she found it easy to switch between interests, but they recognised that quitting the sport might be a rash decision. They asked her to take a break and decide only when she felt emotionally stable.
“We tried to help her forget Tokyo and reminded her that Paris was just three years away,” said Ramkishan. “I assured her that her luck would change. Talent and hard work are crucial, but luck also plays a role.”
The resilient Manu, who had always stood up to bullies and unfair treatment, gradually regained her confidence. This time, it was life that was challenging her, and the ace shooter realised that, unlike in her sport, battles of life are rarely fought alone. Her Dronacharya had been out of her orbit for more than two years. Finally, in 2023, she mustered up the courage to pick up the phone. “With what had happened between us, I would not have made the call. I salute her courage,” said Rana. Thus began the redemption story.
While Rana helped her regain strength and confidence, Manu found solace in the Gita and drew inspiration from autobiographies of athletes and tales of the marginalised. This helped her put her own struggles in perspective. She was staying with her parents in Faridabad at the time, and she went all in on practice. “We hardly saw her in the society. At most, we would see her in the lift leaving or coming back from practice,” said one of the neighbours. Before the Paris Olympics, she trained for 12 to 14 hours a day, returning home only to sleep.
Seeing her hard work, and with each passing day, the parents became more confident of a medal. “I sense things from inside,” said Sumedha. “If I feel positive while sitting quietly, good things usually follow. That also affects Manu. During the Tokyo Olympics, I felt negative and warned her father.”
With a resolve to keep her anxious heart from casting a shadow over Manu’s moments in Paris, Sumedha chose to stay at home alone during her matches. Yet, unlike the worries that accompanied her during Tokyo, this time, she was more at ease. “Hearing the doorbell [after Manu’s 10m air pistol event], I sensed the good news,” she said. “My phone was flooded with congratulatory messages, calling us ‘proud parents’. I still get goosebumps recalling that day.”
But the competitive side of Sumedha is not satisfied. “She hasn’t won the Olympic gold,” she said. “We are confident that with continued hard work and determination, she will achieve it. We believe God has that plan for her.”