In the quiet villages of Shyamnagar and Bhandarhati in West Bengal, the dusty playgrounds were once strictly the domain of boys. For a girl to step onto the field was not just uncommon; it was an invitation for social ridicule. Yet today those same grounds echo with the shouts of young Adivasi girls calling for passes and celebrating goals. This transformation did not happen through government policy or corporate sponsorship but through the sheer will of a couple who sold their own security to purchase a dream for their community.
Raju and Lalita Oraon never set out to start a revolution. Their journey began with a simple parental instinct to support their daughter, Ishika, who wanted to play football. The village elders were quick to voice their disapproval, warning that girls running in shorts would bring shame to their society. Most parents would have backed down under such intense pressure, but Raju and Lalita chose to double down. Raju challenged the skeptics with a simple question: “If my daughter plays, why can’t yours?”
The couple soon realized that permission was only the first hurdle. The girls needed equipment, nutrition, and professional guidance, none of which came free. In a move that stunned their neighbors, Lalita made the decision to sell her gold jewellery. It was a significant financial sacrifice for the family, but she viewed it as an investment in the future of the girls in her village. “I sold my gold because the girls needed a place to dream,” Lalita says. This act of devotion eventually birthed the Shyamnagar Unite Adivasi Football Academy and later the Bhandarhati Adivasi Sporting Club.
The initiative started small but quickly gained momentum. The couple quit their daily jobs to focus entirely on the academy, often surviving on meagre meals to ensure the training continued. They brought in Budhiram Tudu, a former striker for East Bengal, to provide professional coaching. Tudu, who understands the nuances of the game, teaches the girls to adapt to the rough village grounds. “If you learn here, you can play anywhere,” he tells them, preparing them for professional turf while they train in the mud.
The impact of the academy is now visible far beyond the village boundaries. What started with a handful of hesitant participants has grown into a strong cohort of nearly one hundred trainees. The girls, who once watched from the sidelines, are now competing in the Kanyashree Cup and the Reliance Foundation Youth Sports leagues. Some have even received call-ups for the Indian Women’s League. The success has silenced the critics. Parents who once forbade their daughters from playing are now their loudest cheerleaders on the sidelines.
However, the true metric of success for Raju and Lalita is not just the trophies gathering dust on a shelf. It is the fundamental shift in the girls’ confidence. For these young athletes, the football field has become a sanctuary where they can escape the rigid expectations of their conservative society. They have found a voice and a sense of agency that extends well beyond the ninety minutes of a match. As Lalita poignantly notes, “The biggest win is freedom.”
The couple continues to face financial challenges, but their resolve remains unbroken. They operate on a model where no child is turned away for lack of funds. “We take a fee from only those who can pay,” Raju explains. Their vision is to eventually build a facility with a gym and proper nutrition for every player. Until then, they continue to pour everything they have into the academy, driven by the belief that they are raising not just footballers, but a generation of empowered women who know their worth.
