Wide-eyed, intense, speaking at a few decibels above the whisper`, Sarvesh Anil Kushare in a world spinning on a cocktail of fatalism makes you want to believe again. And again.
Somewhere in India, not long ago, when Sarvesh Kushare asked for support to compete abroad in his quest to qualify for the World Championships, a particular gentleman told him: “What will you achieve by qualifying for the Worlds?”
The battles, hurdles, and challenges don’t always appear in front of a packed, roaring stadium. Sometimes, they are quieter, more personal—like being thrown into an alligator-infested pool, forced to either swim clear or be eaten up.
In that pool, here in Tokyo at the National Stadium, on a night when three-time Olympic champion Faith Kipyegon proved her class once more by retaining her 1500m crown for a fourth global title; when Canada’s Olympic champion Ethan Katzberg launched the hammer to 84.70m, the longest throw in 20 years; and when USA’s Cordell Tinch, two years after joining the sub-13 club in the 110m hurdles, finally claimed his first World Championship gold—Sarvesh Kushare finished sixth. A result that didn’t draw the world’s media in a frenzy, but one that defied expectations and carried the weight of gold.
World Athletics Championships, Day 4: Highlights
On the evening of September 14th, after qualifying for the final, Kushare tiptoed into the Mixed Zone—a 2000-square-foot arena buzzing with global journalists, bright lights, and endless interviews. It can unnerve even seasoned athletes, unless you’re a Kipyegon, a Ryan Crouser, or a serial medal-winner. Kushare’s first reaction after becoming the first Indian high jumper to qualify for a World Championship final wasn’t about pressure, weather, or any particular jump. Adjusting his headband, he looked straight ahead, pointed to the word India printed on it, and said: “India toh frame mein hain na.” (India is in the frame, right?).
It was with that same attitude that he walked into the jumping arena, squeezed between the track’s finish line and the discus and hammer cages. He was the first out, measuring tape in hand, kneeling on the run-up, carefully marking his spots. From the stands, it might look simple: a run-up, an arch, and a flop over the bar. But like most meticulous jumpers, Kushare believes perfection lies in the details—the measured strides, the still moments on the bench, the pacing, the mental resets, and the stray glances toward the throws cage. During qualifying, he watched some of the women’s discus. Tonight, it was the hammer.
Before each attempt, he would often pick up a towel, walk to the lift-off point, and brush away imaginary dust. Perhaps psychological. Perhaps just another way to shut out the chaos: the noise, the announcers, the Japanese fans roaring for their stars, and the sheer bedlam of track and field. How does a high jumper focus when 15 races are unfolding around him? Seven heats of the 800m, three men’s 400m semis, the women’s 1500m final, three men’s 110m hurdles semis, the hurdles final, and the hammer final—never mind the triple jump qualifiers.
“But that’s what track and field is,” he said quietly. “It makes a little difference because I come in prepared to jump and then I’m told to stop. It’s a little up and down. But no problem—we will learn from this and move forward.”
So, when he returned to the Mixed Zone after finishing sixth—the highest-ever by an Indian high jumper at a global meet—he still looked dazed. From a world ranking of 38th to sixth in Tokyo. Tejaswin Shankar, India’s national record holder, summed it up on X: “6th in the world! For me from this point on—you are the greatest Indian high jumper ever! Well done sir! The NR hunt stays on.”
Kushare’s campaign began smoothly. He was among the eight jumpers to clear 2.20m on their first attempts, then sailed over 2.24m on his second. The test came at 2.28m. His personal best stood at 2.27m, with a season’s best of 2.26m. He missed his first two attempts, but on the third, he soared over, clenched his fist, and shouted: “Shivaji Maharaj ki Jai!” Later, he explained: “I heard it from my heart. It was after a long time. I always think if I get a chance to say Shivaji Maharaj, I will definitely do it. So, I did it.”
When the bar went up to 2.31m, all seven remaining jumpers missed their first attempts. Four went on to clear it, Kushare wasn’t among them. Expecting him to cross 2.31m would have been miraculous, but he had already gone past his own benchmark.
“I wanted to do my personal best. I wanted to go past 2.30. But I couldn’t do it. It’s been 2–3 years since I did my PB. I did it at the Gujarat National Games in 2022. It took a lot of time to improve by one cm. But it’s okay. I will do better in the upcoming conditions.”
Tejaswin, elated with his friend’s effort, said: “Sarvesh’s performance at the Worlds was nothing short of spectacular. Jumping a PB at such a momentous occasion is just commendable and something most athletes dream of. He deserves more and must be preserved by the stakeholders of Indian sport.”
It wasn’t the most dazzling high jump final in history—no string of 2.35m clearances, no dramatic third-attempt rescues. The only notable one was Hamish Kerr’s third attempt at 2.34m, which eventually earned him gold, New Zealand’s second of the Championships after Geordie Beamish stunned Soufiane Bakkali in the steeplechase.
For Sarvesh, though, the significance lay in the story, not just the statistics. To have his voice heard, to ensure high jump once again found its place in India’s sporting imagination. For him, it was also a test of will and inner endurance. He didn’t crack. He came to Tokyo searching for a voice.
And though his may have been a whisper, it was loud enough for a nation to hear him say: I’m here.
– Ends