Pakistan's Last-Minute Withdrawal Dims Inaugural Commonwealth Kabaddi Championship as India's Gold Path Eases

The morning was different from other days for the organisers of the inaugural Commonwealth Kabaddi Championship at Ahmedabad's Veer Savarkar Sports Complex, starting October 23. Pakistan's name had been struck off the list of 14 men's teams, and the organising committee had no official reason for the cut. It was an unexpected pause that framed what was to unfold in Ahmedabad over the next ten days. This single absence not only reduced the tournament format to 13 teams but also took away the one fixture around which the entire emotional and commercial architecture of South Asian kabaddi is built — India versus Pakistan. It would be easy to treat this as just another sports news item, but for someone who has covered this beat, it is already a signal. In 2026, when I was the only woman journalist in the Balewadi press box in Pune, I learned that news of a team's arrival or absence tells you more than its score. Pakistan's withdrawal is that kind of story — it shows that the international politics and administrative clearances of kabaddi extend far beyond the game itself. To understand the build-up to this championship, it is first necessary to know what this tournament is. This is the first edition of the Commonwealth Kabaddi Championship, to be played in Ahmedabad from October 23 to 31. Originally, 14 countries were scheduled to participate in the men's category, including Pakistan. But Pakistan's last-minute withdrawal brought that number down to 13. Besides, strong teams like Iran and Chinese Taipei are not participating in this first edition. This means that a tournament that had not yet established its international prestige has been left with another big gap by Pakistan's absence. It is necessary to reiterate the rules of kabaddi here, because the nuances of this sport determine its competitive significance. A raider crosses into the opponent's half within 30 seconds, touches a defender and returns, continuously chanting 'Kabaddi'. If the chant breaks, the raid is invalid. The defending team scores by stopping the raider in their own half. Crossing the bonus line earns one point, provided the opposing team has six or more players on the court. After two consecutive empty raids, the third raid is do-or-die, where failure to score results in the raider himself being out. A super tackle occurs when the defending team has three or fewer players and still completes a tackle, earning two points. The biggest turning point is the 'all out' — when all players of one team are out, the opposing team gets two bonus points and the entire team returns to the court. This very rule becomes the biggest trigger for a weaker team to 'crack under pressure'. Looking at the competitive structure of this tournament, the picture becomes clear. India is coming off gold medals in both men's and women's categories at the Asian Games, and its only major challenge, Iran, is not on the field this time. Chinese Taipei is also absent. Pakistan has withdrawn. This means none of the teams that could have stopped India are present. In such a scenario, India's title win is almost certain, but the question is: what is the competitive value of this gold? It will be lower than the Asian Games gold, because teams like Iran and Chinese Taipei were present there. One thing needs to be made clear here — Pakistan's strength in kabaddi is a cultural truth, but it is strong in Circle Style, not Standard Style. Traditional kabaddi played on circular grounds on both sides of Punjab is Pakistan's identity, but events like the Asian Games and Commonwealth Championship are held in Standard Style on rectangular courts. Pakistan's performance in Standard Style has been consistently declining. Recently, for the first time, Pakistan failed to win any medal in kabaddi at the Asian Games — this is the strongest proof of its weakness. In such a situation, saying that Pakistan had a good chance of winning a medal in this championship does not match the facts. This 'opportunity' rested on the absence of others, not on its own strength. For me, this is the most interesting contradiction. When a team withdraws at the last minute, the reason behind it is often not related to the sport. In 2026 in Jakarta, when India lost to Iran, I saw the media first search for the 'reason for the loss', whereas the real reason was Iran's strategy on the field. The same is happening here. The real reason for Pakistan's withdrawal is probably visa, security clearance or political tension, but the news is being viewed through the lens of sport. And that is the biggest weakness of this story — the question was asked, but the answer is nowhere. One should also be cautious about the prestige of this tournament. It is being called 'the second major kabaddi event of the year', but with Iran, Chinese Taipei and Pakistan absent, its value could be lower than even the Asian Championship. Assuming it to be big because of the 'Commonwealth' name is a misconception. It is not clear whether this event has been recognised by the International Kabaddi Federation (IKF). Until official confirmation, its results cannot be measured against international standards. For India, this tournament has become a kind of 'post-Asian Games confirmation'. Both men's and women's teams are strong, and the competition is weak. The question then arises: does this gold give any signal for the future? Probably not. The real test will come when Iran and Chinese Taipei are on the field. Until then, this victory will be one of statistics, not of prestige. For Pakistan, this withdrawal is another loss. Its team is already struggling, and staying away from such events means players will not get the opportunity for international experience and recognition. For those players from the villages of Punjab, for whom kabaddi is a means of livelihood, this is not just a tournament withdrawal — it is the closing of a career possibility. What next? The most important question is why Pakistan withdrew. If the reason is political, it is a warning for future kabaddi events in India. If the reason is administrative, perhaps Pakistan will return next time. But until an official statement comes, this question will remain in the air. And for a sport like kabaddi, which is trying to build its global identity, such questions are the biggest obstacle. I am reminded of the empty year of 2026, when the PKL was postponed and I was calling 14 players at their homes. It was then that I learned that sport is won or lost not only on the field but also in the clearances and arrangements outside it. Pakistan's move is a reminder of the same. The ground being prepared in Ahmedabad is almost certain to see India's gold, but the shine of that gold will remain incomplete until its competitors are on the field.