PV Sindhu rocks a MH12-coded convocation speech at Pune: ‘My husband is from here… Even his bike is from here!'

Indian Express

18-05-2025

PV Sindhu showed up for the 2025 convocation of a private university in Pune that her husband Sai Datta had attended, and entertained the graduating flock to some pristine memories from her illustrious career. The Olympic medallist from Rio and Tokyo blended snatched of personal memories and career highlights while speaking about her partner, her father PV Ramana and former coach, Pullela Gopichand.
Recalling how she had bawled her eyes out – 'ugly tears' – not cute Instagram droplets- around both her Olympic successes, Sindhu also spoke for the first time about why the 2022 Commonwealth Games medal meant so much to her. She would draw more than a few chuckles and uproarious laughs with her speech at the Lavale campus.
What brought her to Pune was her husband Sai Datta having graduated from the same private University. 'This isn't just a speech for me. This is personal. Because — well, I didn't study here. But my husband did. And ever since we met, FLAME hasn't stopped showing up in my life. My husband is from here. My manager, Ananth, is from here. Some of his closest friends are from here.
His bike is from here!' she quipped at the MH-12 coded ultimate souvenir from Pune.
'His heart is from here. So even though I didn't walk these corridors as a student — I've heard so many stories, sat through so many 'bro, I can't explain it — you had to be there' or 'bro, you never chilled on the cricket ground' FLAME moments..That honestly, it feels like I graduated from here too,' she added.
The graduate partner had missed his own convocation for his parents' anniversary, she noted.
Sindhu recalled lessons that had stayed with her from 4 AM wake-up calls to Olympic podiums. It included her manifesting success for herself by scribbling on her father's visiting card. 'Dreams are free… but effort never is. I was 8 years old when my father — an Arjuna Awardee himself — received his medal. I remember him proudly showing me this card that read: 'P.V. Ramana — Arjuna Awardee.' And what did I do?
I took a pen, scratched out his name… and wrote mine instead. 'P.V. Sindhu.'
She would however warn about the fine print of dreams. 'hey don't tell you about the 4 AM alarms. They don't tell you about driving 150 km a day to train — for ten years straight.
They don't tell you about missing weddings, parties, school trips… or even my own sister's wedding, because of a tournament.
They don't tell you about the days your legs give up… but your mind says, 'One more set.'
Or the nights you cry quietly into your pillow… only to wake up the next day and pretend everything's fine. That's the part nobody claps for. That's the rent every dream demands,' she said.
She also busted the myth that athletes were perennially motivated. 'People often ask me, 'Sindhu, how do you stay motivated?' Let me tell you a secret: I don't. Not every day. Not every week. But what I do is — show up. Even on the days I didn't feel like it. Especially on the days I didn't feel like it. You're not always going to feel inspired. You're not always going to feel strong. But if you just show up — you're already ahead of most.'
Sindhu took the students down another memory lane – which Indians remember as a happy moment, but where she had secretly grieved a lost gold. '… the Rio Olympics, 2016. I had made it to the finals. The whole country was watching. The pressure? Unreal. I played my heart out. But I lost. Silver medal.
Now, to the world, it looked like victory. But in my heart — it felt like defeat. Because I knew I had almost done it. Almost. That night, I sat alone and cried. And no — not a cute, Instagram-tears kind of cry. It was an ugly, full-body, 'I gave everything and it still wasn't enough' kind of cry. And the worst part? It wasn't the last time,' she said.
Recalling how she lost two World Championship finals and got labelled as 'the girl who always comes second', she recalled how a straight up chat with her coach firmed up her resolve as she answered her own questions: 'People whispered, 'Maybe she just doesn't have the edge anymore.' And for a while… I believed them. Until one day, after a particularly brutal loss, my coach sat beside me and asked. 'So… what do you want to do now?' And my answer was simple: 'I'm not done.' That's it. Not a quote for a coffee mug. Not some dramatic movie moment. Just — 'I'm not done.' Because failure doesn't stop you. Doubt does.
And if you want to do something big in life — you're going to have to fail for it. Repeatedly. Publicly. Sometimes, even hilariously.
The COVID bronze had been a different experience at Tokyo where she restored her peace, she said. 'COVID had delayed the Olympics by a year. I came in drained — mentally, physically, emotionally. Possibly the hardest year of my life. In the semifinals, I faced my dear friend Tai Tzu-Ying — one of the craftiest players the sport has ever seen. And I lost. I didn't sleep that night. I cried straight through. And then, badminton does one of the cruelest things it can — It asks you to show up again the next morning. For bronze. No space to grieve. No time to reflect. Just another match. Another fight. But somehow… I did it. And I won. That bronze medal? It wasn't just a podium finish — it was me reclaiming my peace.'
Losing the 2018 CWG gold to Saina Nehwal had hurt, and Sindhu told her audience how she played witha busted foot to tick the box. 'At Commonwealth Games 2022 in Birmingham, 'I'd had a great year — three titles already. But there was one medal missing from my cabinet: Commonwealth gold. In 2018, I'd lost to my compatriot Saina.
That hurt. I wanted this one,' Sindhu said.
In the quarterfinal, Sindhu went for a jump smash — 'a shot I've probably hit 50,000 times in my career. It's one of the most natural movements for me. But this time…As I landed, I heard it;— A sharp, ugly katt in my heel.' She And knew something had gone wrong as she finished the match in pain as her physio told her 'We might have to head home.'
Needing to play two more matches and win, her team would cut open her shoe. 'My foot was so swollen I couldn't fit it into my shoe — we had to cut it open on the side. And yet… I played. Through pain. Through fear. Through a body that was literally breaking down. I played — for the flag on my chest. For the girl who scratched her dad's name off that Arjuna card. For the medal that had slipped away once before. Two full matches. One shattered heel.One heart that refused to give up. And I won. That missing gold? Finally mine.''
Sindhu would also use the occasion to show her gratitude for her team. 'Despite what headlines love to say —there is no such thing as self-made. Every medal I've won, every podium I've stood on — it may have been me out there on the court…But behind the scenes? There was an entire army. Coaches. Physios. Trainers. Parents. Friends. Mentors. Teammates. Drivers. Cooks. Masseurs. People who believed in me — sometimes even on the days I didn't believe in myself.'
Sindhu also recalled how Pullela Gopichand had toughened her as an athlete. 'When I was 13, my coach made a few of us juniors sweep the court before practice.
At the time, I thought it was punishment.
Later, I understood — he was teaching us that no role is beneath you when you're building something great. Humility was the first lesson. Years later, before the Rio Olympics, my coach did something even more extreme — He took away my phone.
And sugar. For three whole months. Yes — I know that sounds like a Black Mirror episode. But back then, he believed I needed total focus. And maybe he was right — I made it to the Olympic final. After the match, when I'd won silver…He handed the phone back to me, smiled, and said, 'Well done. Now go order your ice cream.' That little moment — the phone, the silver, the ice cream — that was our gold.,' she recalled.
There were mushy words for her husband, an alumnus at FLAME too. 'Even love, if you're lucky enough to find it, becomes part of your team. My husband — who's here today — is not just my partner in life. He's my mirror. My late-night soundboard. My unofficial coach. My emergency joke writer. The one person I can cry in front of when it really hurts. So yeah — medals are nice. Podiums are great. But knowing there's someone in the stands who would clap for you… even if you lost every match? That's the win that matters most,' she said adding humour to gravitas.
Sindhu would talk about her vulnerabilities too. 'Even I fall into it sometimes —
worrying about rankings, sponsorships, who said what, what headline will come tomorrow. But here's what I've learned:
You can climb every mountain… and still feel empty at the top. Unless you learn to protect your joy.'
What is joy for her? 'Like ice cream after a tough match. (Which, thanks to our beloved Prime Minister Modi ji, is now apparently national policy.) A guilt-free binge-watch of some terrible reality TV — don't ask which one. Playing with my dog like we're both puppies. Or holding my husband's hand on a quiet walk, without being stopped every two steps for a selfie. That's my reset button.
That's the world reminding me: You're more than your results.'
Sindhu ended the speech with a profundity. 'In fact, there was a time I confused ambition with tension. I thought pushing harder meant caring more. But you know what? Peace is productive. Laughter is fuel. Joy is discipline.
So whatever your version of joy is — protect it fiercely. Make space for it. Fight for it the way you fight for success.Because ambition might get you there. VBut joy is what keeps you going. Don't let medals, titles, or 'the grind' steal the very thing that makes you human,' she said.