On the flight from Shanghai to the resort city of Sanya, I found myself wrestling with a bit of an internal debate. Was I actually looking forward to the postcard-perfect sun, surf, and sand of Hainan Island, or was I truly ready for the intensity of the first Asian Beach Games I had ever covered?
As the aircraft banked for its landing trajectory past the bay, the view below was, frankly, deceptive. Clusters of private yachts lined the piers like expensive toys, exuding that polished, untouchable aura of a rich man’s playground. But that illusion of a relaxing holiday didn’t survive the first hour. Once I was actually on the ground, the sand shifted under my feet, revealing a much harsher, more honest reality.
Sanya is often marketed as the “Hawaii of the East,” a place where you go to unwind. However, for the 31-member Indian contingent and their continental peers at the 2026 Asian Beach Games (April 22–30), the white sands of Phoenix Island were no place for a holiday. If you had to distil the entire essence of the Games into a single word, it would be grit.
To the uninitiated, beach sports are often dismissed with a bit of a snigger. We tend to associate the word “beach” with holidays, long breaks, and putting your feet up. But after spending a few days watching everything from handball and water polo to beach athletics under a relentless, unforgiving sun, perspective changes fast. It became clear very quickly that sand isn’t just a surface; it’s a test of the human spirit.
In tennis, we obsess over the nuances of clay versus grass. Why should sand be treated any differently? Scientifically speaking, running on sand requires nearly double the energy of running on stable ground. Every stride you take is met with resistance, and every take-off for a long jump or high jump is like playing poker against the sand’s instability.
Take the Aquathlon, which forced athletes to transition from the pounding, rhythmic pace of road running to the surging waves of the sea. Or look at the Beach Athletics, where Thailand’s sprint sensation Puripol Boonson, the only Southeast Asian to break the 10-second barrier in the 100m (clocking 9.94 at the 2025 SEA Games) was an absolute marvel to watch.
Even on sand that had been rolled and flattened, his speed required a kind of cat-like precision. On a synthetic track, you can rely on the surface to give you something back, a bit of bounce to help your next stride. On the sand, if you dig your heels in too deep, the beach simply eats your momentum.
While the scoreboards are there to dictate history, it was the raw human emotion that truly defined the atmosphere in Sanya. I watched Hassan Ajamibakhtiarvand, the Iranian shot-put gold medallist, completely crumble. Here was a man built like a mountain, yet he collapsed onto the sand after his winning throw of 20.17m.
His tears weren’t really celebrating; they were the tears of a man representing a nation in deep turmoil. I remembered the lines of the Iranian poet Ahmad Shamlou: “The Mountain is not separate from the Earth.” On that beach, Ajamibakhtiarvand was the mountain, and he was carrying the emotional weight of Iran’s struggle.
In stark contrast was the pure ecstasy of Sri Lanka’s Nipuni Hewa Pedige. After clinching gold in the 50kg Beach Wrestling, the Air Force athlete didn’t just celebrate; she placed her medal around her coach’s neck and touched his feet in a gesture of profound respect. In that fleeting moment, even the waves seemed to go quiet. That spell of gratitude felt as grand and significant as any Olympic stadium in Paris or Los Angeles.
For the Indian contingent, the sand taught us, offering lessons outside the world we train and compete. The Women’s Kabaddi team, led by Ritu, showed everyone why they are the best. In a thrilling final against a resilient Sri Lankan side, they overturned a narrow half-time deficit to storm through to a 47-31 victory, securing their sixth consecutive crown.
“We never play on sand, so this win is really satisfying,” Ritu remarked after the final, already with her sights set on the next Asian Games.
However, the story took a different turn for Brijendra Singh Choudhary’s men’s squad. Despite a dominant run to the final, including a crushing 50-27 victory over rivals Pakistan, they came up against a fierce Iranian side, eventually losing 44-31. Brijendra’s post-match reflection was honest and telling,
“Sometimes we take the surface for granted.”
It was a candid admission that perhaps, somewhere in the back of their minds, they hadn’t afforded the sand, or the Iranians’ incredible adaptability to it.
The sandpits also produced some of India’s most “dogged” individual performances. Priya (+70kg) snatched a gutsy, late 3-2 victory over Mongolia’s Zorigt, her face etched with the kind of exhaustion only sand can induce. Meanwhile, Pushpa Yadav (60kg) pulled off a stunner against the local Chinese favourite, Mengyu Xie, blanking her 3-0 in a display of persistence that silenced the home crowd.
The most insightful lessons of Sanya, however, lay far beyond the final medal tally, which, for the record, saw hosts China top the table with 55 medals (24 gold, 18 silver, 13 bronze), while India finished sixth with 6 medals (3 gold, 2 silver, 1 bronze).
Watching athletes from Palestine, Iran, and Lebanon compete while their home nations were literally burning was a life-manual in resilience. Most of us feel a surge of genuine anxiety if our flight is delayed by an hour; these competitors live in a reality where every single ring of their phone could bring devastating, life-altering news.
On the sand, winning and losing takes on a completely different dimension. It acts as a balm, where after the bout is over, you can embrace your opponent and walk away with your head held high. Isn’t it always about shared dignity especially for those coming from fractured lands.
Sand is our most natural, least expensive resource, and given the success we saw in Sanya, there is a compelling case for doing more with it. Imagine the Asian Beach Athletics Championships, or dedicated beach events for wrestling and boxing, becoming standalone fixtures under various national associations. The infrastructure is provided by nature.
These Games proved that sport isn’t an escape from life’s hardships; it’s a place where you actually confront and overpower them. Whether it was the Qatari pair of world stars Samba Cherif and Janko Ahmed, Asian Games Champions and Tokyo Olympic bronze medallists, turning beach volleyball into a rock-and-roll spectacle, or an Indian wrestler digging her toes into the grains for one final takedown, the message was clear. The sand isn’t just another surface. It’s your ally. And it exposes your grit.
– Ends
