The Delhi basement forging India’s top skaters

In the congested neighbourhood of Neb Sarai in Delhi, where muddy and potholed lanes dominate the streets, a basement in a residential building hums with rattles and scrapes. Polyurethane hitting wood and concrete as kids skate stairs, land kick flips, and pull boards level to their heads on half pipes. 

It’s the sounds of Delhi’s first ever skateboarding academy and indoor skatepark, set below ground and hidden from the sites and bustle of India’s capital city. Despite its subterranean location, the Delhi Skateboarding Academy become a key site in the supermetropolis’s skate scene, being one of only a small handful of spaces for India’s top skaters to train, as well as providing ramps and rails for those of any experience level to try out new tricks.

The academy started almost a decade ago by Surjeet Kumar as a space for people of all ages to come and give skateboarding a try. Originally a rollerskater, Kumar grew fascinated with the board sport and its lifestyle after travelling to other countries, and he began dreaming of opening his own space to provide youngsters a chance to experience its thrills for themselves.

Initially, it was free to enter and use, until Kumar realised that such a model was unsustainable. ​“It became instantly popular,” he says. ​“We were free to use almost for a year, but we realised that we were on our own when it came to buying more equipment, refurbishing ramps and paying utility bills.” They eventually had to begin charging for use of the skatepark and began running coaching sessions.

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Skate infrastructure in Delhi is minimal at best, despite being the capital of one of the world’s most populous nations, and the city itself hosting what’s believed to be more than 34 million inhabitants. Despite its size, it does not have a single public skatepark that’s free to use. Shivam Tiwari, a 22-year-old coach and national level skateboarder at the academy, says: ​“Skateboarding in Delhi will only flourish if we get at least some infrastructural support from the government, it’s not possible for private academies to uplift the sport for everyone alone.” Most skateboarders practice on the streets, and while the true spirit of skateboarding continues to live there, those who dream to compete at the elite level are faced with a lack of real spaces to train.

Skateboarding has long evolved beyond street culture, and has been recognised as a formal sport for several years now, enough to enter the Olympics, yet it still receives very little attention in Delhi. ​“Such ignorance towards an Olympic sport is a grave matter of concern. At present it is unclear whether the Indian Olympic association even has any plans to prepare a single skateboarder for LA 2028,” Kumar says. ​“They should identify and nurture the talented skateboarders for opportunities like the Asian and Olympic games. They should identify the individuals and groups working towards the growth of skateboarding and provide sponsorships and incentives.” The academy has so far trained close to 500 skateboarders, many of whom have dropped out and chosen to pursue other careers, faced with little financial support or secure futures.

Siya Balhara, a 19-year-old skateboarder, explains that universities and colleges don’t recognise skateboarding as a sport eligible for quota admissions, so athletes like her miss out on the benefits available to those in more established sports. As one of the few women skateboarders in Delhi, she also points out that many of her female peers drop out as a result of being in overly protective environments. ​“Since the sport involves a high risk of injury, it often instills fear in girls from a young age. While there has been progress and more girls are now taking the sport seriously, there’s still a long way to go.”

Despite these obstacles, some have made skateboarding the centre of their lives, drawing resilience and meaning from the sport, and the Delhi Skateboarding Academy is providing the space and teaching to help them compete at the higher levels. Take Antish Sinha, a 23-year-old national-level skateboarder and coach at the academy. He began learning how to skate here at the age of 16, despite not having the money to pay the fees. Pressured by his family to take up a regular job, he stepped away for a while, but eventually returned to the academy as a coach, realising nothing else gave him the same sense of fulfilment. ​“It gave me everything: personality, respect, pride and the utmost joy of teaching this sport,” he says. 

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Antish describes the academy as his chosen family. ​“I feel overwhelmed whenever one of our skateboarders wins a competition because I know the pain, sweat, and effort behind mastering every trick. Coming here every day to skate and teach is how I want to live my life, rather than working at a regular job just to earn more money.”

The dreams of the coaches are reciprocated by their students as well. Shivay Singh, who is just seven years old but competes at the national level, lives locally, and he began learning the sport at this academy at just the age of three, after being drawn in by the loud noises coming from the basement. As I approach him on his small five minute break, he is drenched in sweat from the summer heat of Delhi. He fell more than 10 times while trying to land a backside rail, but still has the energy to go for it again. He dreams of one day competing in the Olympics and representing his country.

13-year-old Siddharth Balhara, who has won 13 medals at national skateboarding competitions and trains at the academy, is now aiming to participate in the Asian Games. His sessions involve learning new tricks everyday for three hours with his coaches. He also draws inspiration from his elder brother, Shivam Balhara, who became the youngest male to represent India internationally in Park Skateboarding at the World Championship in Nanjing, China, in 2018 when he was just 10 – all through determination of learning in this small basement.

But skate sessions here aren’t just for future pros, they’re for anyone looking to push past their comfort zone. I joined the academy a year ago to break up my desk job routine, coming in with zero skills, full of fear and a laid-back attitude. Antish and Shivam helped a reluctant slow-learner like me land a rock-to-fakie comfortably, something I thought I would never even try. 

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I still struggle with ollies while kids half my age are landing clean kickflips, but what keeps me coming back after a long work day is the support and collective spirit from everyone here. Whether it’s a kid pointing out where my foot placement is off, or the claps I got from everybody when I first dropped in on my own, or when they praise me for just showing up every week, it’s in these little things that I feel I am already winning. 

The academy’s approach is adapted differently for everyone. They understand that if a person like me is pushed too much, they will drop out. But a competitive skater is pushed to excel with grit amidst all the pain from their body parts smashing onto the ground. ​“Injuring oneself is inevitable in skateboarding, so one has to let go of the fear and learn how to save yourself from severe injury,” says Antish. 

Using stoic mindsets and approaches, the trainers first focus on making newbies comfortable with falling from the board. Once you are comfortable, you are pushed to practice a new trick along with polishing what you have learnt a day before. ​“Most of our work just involves putting in the faith that one can learn and master the board even when they feel it’s impossible, that they can achieve something that even I couldn’t,” says Shivam, as he shunts from one skater to another, holding their hands as they try to do a kickturn and a 50 – 50 grind. 

Another way they keep the energy high is through loud, upbeat Punjabi music. While it plays, a mantra is often repeated: ​“Understand the board, find its rhythm, form a relationship with it.” Music, like in skateboarding cultures elsewhere, becomes a way for them to express and find a tune with their board. Kids often leave their boards behind and break into dance during sessions.

When I enter the park, I see kids having fun, training rigorously, falling on their knees – I see kids dreaming of achieving something that might be as small as cracking a perfect ollie or as big as a medal. No matter the hassles, humans do have a remarkable ability to find joy, strive and gain a sense of meaning through something to live this life. For many kids in this neighbourhood, that source of meaning is the board.

Paridhi Badgotri is a freelance journalist, follow her on Instagram.

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