Inaugural Commonwealth Kabaddi Championship in Ahmedabad: 62 Matches, 13 Nations, and One Big Question

In a hotel ballroom in Ahmedabad, a jersey, a logo and a mascot were unveiled. On stage were officials, captains, and a sport that has completely rewritten its own economics over the past decade. The scene took me back to that July evening in 2026 when the first Pro Kabaddi League auction was held in Mumbai. Rakesh Kumar drew a then-record bid of 12.5 lakh rupees, and it felt like kabaddi's world would never be the same. Eleven years later, in Ahmedabad, that same sport is being fitted into a new frame called the Commonwealth. Nine days, 62 matches, 13 nations, 39 men's and 23 women's matches. Semifinals on October 30 and the final on October 31. But one thing is missing from this entire event, and it is the most important thing — Iran. To understand kabaddi, you first need to know what the sport is. Two teams of seven each, on a 13m by 10m court, in thirty-second cycles of attack and defence. The attacker is called the raider, who crosses into the opponent's half, touches a defender and returns to his own half. Throughout the raid he must continuously chant 'kabaddi-kabaddi', called the cant. If the breath breaks, the raid is cancelled. The defending side scores by stopping the raider in their own half, called a tackle. When all players of a team are out, it is an 'all out', the opponent gets two bonus points and the entire team revives. After two consecutive empty raids, the third raid must score, called a do-or-die raid. And when there are three or fewer defenders on court, a tackle earns two points, called a super tackle. The sport is fast, physical, and made for television. Now look at the structure of this championship. 13 countries, over 400 players, 62 matches in nine days. On average about thirty people per delegation, meaning squads of roughly 12-15 each for men and women. This is not a deep round-robin, it is a showcase. And that is its first major weakness. When you play 62 matches in nine days, your goal is not competition, it is demonstration. It reminds me of the cricket World Cup qualifiers where associate nations get more matches so they can gain experience, but the title is always decided among the top four. Here too, only the semifinals and final are real contests, the rest is a warm-up. The biggest fact about this championship is that Iran is not in it. And this is no small matter. In the 2026 World Cup final, India beat Iran 38-29, but I still remember Iran's wrestling-based defence in that match. Fazel Atrachali's ankle holds and quick escapes. I rewatched every Iran match after that and found that their corner defenders were conceding 40 percent fewer bonus points than India's. In the 2026 Asian Games semifinal, Iran beat India 27-18, India's first-ever lost gold in kabaddi. That night I sat in the empty press room in Jakarta for an hour, then watched the match and found that Iran's raiders were using a new escape called the 'double dubki'. I recorded a twenty-minute voice note that same night and made a podcast, which got 50,000 downloads in a week. The point here is that Iran's absence is not competitive, it is structural. Iran is not a Commonwealth member. Pakistan is not either, the heartland of circle style. South Korea is not either, the 2026 World Cup runner-up. Meaning every team that could genuinely challenge India is out. Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, Kenya, Uganda, Tanzania, Canada, England, Scotland, Australia, Singapore, Malaysia — this list is a good slogan for 'global reach', but not for competitive depth. It reminds me of the T20 World Cup where Netherlands and Scotland play well in the qualifiers, but the truth emerges once they reach the semifinals. The Indian team's captaincy has been given to Surjeet Singh and vice-captaincy to Naveen Kumar. The women's team captain is Nidhi Sharma and vice-captain Ritu. But there is a problem here — the report mentions no player's position, statistics or club. Naveen Kumar's name matches the PKL raider I know, but name commonality is common in India, so this is unconfirmed. If this is the same Naveen, the vice-captaincy means India is using this event to give a senior raider leadership experience. But this is only an inference. I was a little disappointed to see that organisers paid attention to jersey, logo and mascot, but not to player data. It reminds me of event management where branding matters more than substance. Now the most discussed point — the attempt to include kabaddi in the 2030 Commonwealth Games. Ahmedabad is a contender to host the 2030 Commonwealth Games, and this championship is a step in that direction. I understand the strategy. Delhi hosted the Commonwealth Games in 2026, and several sports got a boost in India afterwards. But there is a big difference here — kabaddi has no historical relationship with the Commonwealth. The sport belongs to South Asia and East Africa, not the Commonwealth. Of the 56 Commonwealth member nations, only 13 are in this championship. Meaning the 'Commonwealth' name is being used to build an institutional bridge that can give kabaddi international legitimacy. And this is where my biggest concern lies. Olympic inclusion is a very distant prospect. The Olympics require broad participation across four continents, a developed women's game, and stable governance. This championship has 23 women's matches, which is a good thing, but does it give women's kabaddi a professional league? No. The PKL, the commercial engine of this sport, has no women's league. That is the contradiction — we are giving women players an international stage, but there is no career path for them domestically. I was also pleased to see that organisers made no excuse about Iran and Pakistan. The report is clear that this is a Commonwealth framework, and Iran is not a Commonwealth member. But the question is whether Iran will be invited in future via a wildcard or non-Commonwealth category. If not, this championship will always be a title where the world's second-strongest team does not play. And when a title is decided without a real rival, what is it worth? This is the same question we ask in cricket when a team wins a tournament without Australia. Another thing that bothers me — the complete absence of commercial data. No broadcaster named, no sponsor named, no mention of prize money, no ticket information. When you claim to be aiming for the Commonwealth Games, you should also disclose your commercial partners. This silence suggests either coverage is limited to streaming or government channels, or commercial interest is very low. In either case, the 'global reach' slogan weakens. I also remember that after the 2026 World Cup final I started a weekly newsletter called 'The Raid Report', where each issue analysed a new move or formation. Around the same time I began interviewing Iranian players and realised that India's selection is often based on reputation rather than performance. The same applies to this championship. If India wins here, it will not be a major achievement, because no team is at its level. The real test is against Iran, Pakistan and South Korea. There is another dimension — East African participation. Kabaddi is genuinely growing at the grassroots in Kenya, Uganda and Tanzania, linked to the Indian diaspora and development programmes. This is a more authentic sign of internationalisation than the Western entries. Teams from Canada, Australia, Singapore and Malaysia are likely diaspora-based, meaning expatriate Indians playing, not locally developed players. This makes the 'global reach' picture look bigger than it actually is. Now the thing that gives me the most hope — the women's competition. 23 matches, named captain and vice-captain, this is no small matter. In a sport with no professional league for women, this platform is important. I remember that in 2026, when stadiums were empty, I started a remote show called 'Empty Arena', where players were brought in from their homes and raids were simulated through AR overlays. In the first episode, Pardeep Narwal explained the dubki in his backyard. That show made me realise that audiences want stories, not just statistics. Women's kabaddi needs such stories too, and this championship can provide that stage. But providing a stage alone is not enough, it must be followed by an announcement of a women's PKL or at least an exhibition league. At the governance level, the Amateur Kabaddi Federation of India (AKFI) is the organiser and the International Kabaddi Federation (IKF) has approved it. IKF General Secretary Tejasvi Gehlot's statement is direct — they want to take kabaddi to a wider global audience. This is the correct procedure. But one thing is missing — no representative or statement from the Commonwealth Games Federation (CGF). If this is genuinely an attempt to be included in the Commonwealth Games, CGF participation should be visible. Its absence suggests this is currently only an Indian and IKF effort, not that of the Commonwealth movement. I also feel that Ahmedabad's selection is political rather than based on kabaddi's traditional strongholds. Haryana, Maharashtra, Punjab, Uttar Pradesh and Tamil Nadu are the real centres of kabaddi. Gujarat is not among them. But Ahmedabad is bidding to host the 2030 Commonwealth Games, so this event is a signal in that direction. This makes sense, but it also means local audience intensity may be lower. Now the most important question — will this championship be held again? If yes, will Iran and Pakistan be invited? If not, it will always be a title where the world's second-strongest team does not play. And if it stays that way, the effort to include kabaddi in the Commonwealth Games will also weaken, because the CGF will ask — what is your competitive depth? Only 13 countries participating, and even among them the absence of a team like Iran, will raise questions. For me, the biggest lesson from this event is that globalisation of a sport does not happen through slogans alone. When the PKL started in 2026, we were all excited that kabaddi would change. Eleven years later, we have achieved a lot — money, broadcast, stars. But internationally we still cannot move without Iran. This championship is a symbol of that dilemma. On one hand we want to create a bigger stage using the Commonwealth name, on the other we are keeping our strongest rival out. After the final on October 31, when India wins the title — and it is almost certain — there will be celebrations on TV. But I will raise a question in that celebration. Is this victory equal to the one that came by beating Iran in the 2026 World Cup? Perhaps not. And that is the real story of this championship. It is a beginning, but the destination is far away. If organisers do not invite Iran in the next edition, it will remain just another tournament, one where winning means less than it appears.