Siddharth Roy
(siddharth001.roy@gmail.com)
A sporting tradition survives only when it is allowed to live, not merely displayed. The decision to place Assam’s indigenous games at the centre of the recent National Sports Day celebrations at Sarusajai is therefore more than a cultural gesture. Bodo wrestling, Thang-Ta and Moh-ho-ho, alongside traditional activities such as Tekeli Bhonga and Indian archery, brought older sporting traditions into a modern arena. The occasion offered an important question: can Assam convert cultural inheritance into a sustainable sporting ecosystem?
The answer matters because indigenous games are not museum pieces. They encode physical skills, community memory and local knowledge. Wrestling develops strength and balance; archery demands concentration and coordination; games involving running, catching and agility develop endurance and reflexes. Their greatest advantage is accessibility. Many require little specialised infrastructure, making them suitable for schools and villages where expensive sporting facilities remain scarce.
The national policy environment is increasingly favourable. The Union government has a dedicated Khelo India component for rural, indigenous and tribal games. Thang-Ta is among the disciplines officially supported, alongside Mallakhamb, Kalaripayattu, Gatka and Yogasana. Government data show substantial participation: 2,700 athletes were listed under Thang-Ta, including 1,500 boys and 1,200 girls. Importantly for Assam, a Thang-Ta training centre has been identified at Chachar. The Sports Authority of India also supports traditional disciplines through its Indigenous Games and Martial Arts initiative. These mechanisms provide Assam with an opportunity to move from occasional demonstrations to structured competition.
The timing is significant. In 2026, India held its first Khelo India Tribal Games, bringing together participants from 30 states and Union Territories. The event featured seven medal sports and two demonstration disciplines, with 338 medals at stake. The larger lesson is that India is beginning to recognise indigenous sporting traditions as potential pathways into organised sport, rather than merely as cultural performances. Assam should position itself within this transition.
Yet celebration alone will not preserve traditional games. The first requirement is documentation. Rules, techniques, histories, terminology, equipment and local variations should be systematically recorded in an Assam Indigenous Sports Archive. Universities, schools, cultural institutions and community practitioners could collaborate on this project. Without documentation, the decline of oral transmission can gradually erase rules and techniques even when the game’s name survives.
The second challenge is standardisation. A sport cannot develop a reliable competitive pathway if its rules differ radically between districts. Assam should create expert panels comprising athletes, traditional practitioners, coaches, physical-education teachers and community elders. Their task should be to establish competition rules, age categories, safety standards, scoring systems and coaching manuals without stripping games of their cultural identity.
Schools should become the principal nursery. Assam’s sports policy already envisages basic sports infrastructure and playfields across villages and blocks, competitions from block to district and State levels, greater participation by girls and women, and facilities accessible to persons with disabilities. Indigenous games can fit naturally into this framework. A school playground, a trained instructor and safe equipment may be enough to begin.
There is also an economic argument. A well-organised indigenous sports circuit can create livelihoods for coaches, referees, equipment makers, event managers and trainers. Annual Indigenous Games festivals could rotate among districts, combining competitions with demonstrations, workshops and cultural programmes. With careful branding, such events could strengthen sports tourism while giving practitioners a dignified source of income.
But inclusion must be deliberate. Women and girls should not be treated as spectators in traditions that historically involved community participation. Scholarships, girls’ competitions, women coaches and safe facilities can widen participation. Adapted formats can also bring persons with disabilities into the sporting ecosystem. Preservation becomes more meaningful when it expands opportunity.
Assam should also create a clear talent pathway. A child identified through a village competition should be able to progress to block, district and State championships, receive coaching and, where appropriate, enter national platforms. Performance databases can help identify promising athletes. Khel Maharan Assam, already highlighted by the State government as a grassroots talent-identification platform, could be linked to an indigenous-sports vertical, creating a bridge between community games and elite development. The recent National Sports Day celebrations themselves highlighted Khel Maharan as an important grassroots platform. The danger is tokenism: performing a traditional game for five minutes on National Sports Day and returning it to obscurity the next morning. What Assam needs is institutionalisation—annual calendars, coaching certification, equipment grants, school leagues, district championships, digital archives and measurable participation targets.
There is a further strategic opportunity in research. Sports science departments can study the biomechanics, injury patterns, fitness demands and nutritional requirements of indigenous disciplines. Such evidence can improve coaching while also creating academic literature around games that have received little scientific attention. Assam’s universities could offer certificates in indigenous sports coaching, refereeing and sports management, creating a professional cadre rather than relying entirely on informal practitioners. Equipment manufacturers could work with artisans to develop safer, competition-ready versions of traditional equipment while preserving local materials and design. Digital platforms could stream district competitions, record athletes and explain rules in Assamese, Bodo, Bengali and English. This would make unfamiliar games discoverable beyond their communities and create an archive for generations. There is a deeper reason to pursue this agenda. Global sport often rewards standardisation, but sporting excellence can emerge from cultural diversity. Indigenous games teach young people that physical activity is not something imported into their communities; it can be rooted in their own histories. That sense of ownership can be a powerful motivator.
Assam therefore should not choose between heritage and high performance. It should connect them. The applause at Sarusajai should be treated not as a ceremonial conclusion but as a starting whistle. If indigenous games are given rules, resources, coaching, pathways and respect, they can become more than symbols of Assam’s past. They can become part of its sporting future.