
This 25-year-old vegetarian from Najafgarh in Delhi says he has a makeshift temple in his room in the Olympics village, and every morning he'd listen to the Hanuman Chalisa. Is he ready for his new role after promotion to an inspector in Indian Railways? "I'm hearing this only from you," he says.
Plans of marriage? "It's up to my parents to decide that." He says he's never watched a movie in a theatre, nor was keen on the cellphone he acquired very late. He explains his habit, "I practise in the mornings and evenings, so if I don't rest in the afternoon, I won't be able to do well," he says. "And if I sleep late, I will not be able to practise in the mornings. So I don't wish to have any distractions."
He plans to hand over his medal to his father, "who's done so much for my career." Like what? "For 13-14 years, he's brought milk for me in the mornings, all the year I've been wrestling. There's never been a day when he did not fetch milk for me."
His engaging simplicity gives a ring of truth to his complaints about the lack of support staff for athletes in Beijing. "There are just two-three doctors for the whole Indian contingent here," he says. "That's clearly inadequate. The masseur could not find time for me, so my coach Kartar Singh—a legend, a man who has won gold medals at the Asian Games—had to give me rubdowns, to keep me in condition."
His bronze, as also Vijender's feat, could become the harbinger of a proletarian revolution in Olympic sports. With over Rs 1.5 crore announced in awards for him, Sushil could fulfil his dream of an Olympics gold in London.










_.jpg?w=200&auto=format%2Ccompress&fit=max)






