National silver medalist Deepak Kumar sets up a roadside juice cart in Fazilka—his hard-won medals on display, his voice echoing a deep cry for dignity and opportunity.
Under the unforgiving 44-degree sun in Fazilka, Punjab, a young man stands behind a sugarcane juice cart—not just another vendor, but a former national-level athlete whose dreams once soared far beyond this dusty pavement.
Deepak Kumar, just 22, isn’t your average roadside businessman. He is a two-time national silver medalist in cross-country running. In 2022, he stood tall at the 56th National Cross Country Championship in Nagaland, earning silver in the 6,000-meter race. He followed that up with another silver at the 66th National School Athletics Championship in 2023. Add to that 16 gold medals in state competitions and five Khel Rattan awards, and you’re looking at one of Punjab’s most promising athletes.
So, why the juice cart?
Deepak has a degree from Guru Nanak Dev University, a glittering sports career, and countless hours of hard work behind him. But not a single job offer. Tired of waiting and driven by desperation, he turned to what he could afford—selling juice outside the district administrative complex in Fazilka.
But this isn’t just a business. It’s a silent protest.
On the front of his modest stall hang his medals—tangible proof of his talent, sacrifice, and determination. “I’ve put them here so people, especially government officials walking by, can see what has become of athletes like me,” he says. “I’ve given everything to sport, and now I’m left with nothing.”
His father, Charanjit, who once proudly watched his son race past the competition, now helps him at the cart, despite battling health issues. Their family’s financial condition has hit rock bottom, and what was once a home filled with dreams now struggles to pay electricity bills.
The story of Deepak Kumar is not just his alone—it reflects a deep rot in India’s sports ecosystem. We celebrate athletes when they win, but forget them when the cheering fades. Promises of jobs and support remain trapped in red tape, while real talent is pushed to the margins.
“I’m not ashamed of selling juice,” Deepak says. “But I never imagined this is what my medals would lead to.”
His appeal is simple: recognition, respect, and a stable livelihood. Until then, he stands in the sun, pressing sugarcane and pressing society’s conscience—with every medal catching the light, and every drop of juice telling a bittersweet tale.
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