NOT JUST FOR KICKS: (Above) Mamtu Mirchandani and (below) Ranjeeta Pujari

Police trainee Ranjeeta Pujari is on a nocturnal raid. The 23-year-old storms into a liquor den in Maharashtra’s Sangli district, undaunted by the menacing stares she gets from the men gathered there. Ranjeeta, a lean, soft-spoken girl, says she has nothing to fear — she is a kickboxing champion.

Kickboxing has been a fitness fad for some years in the metros. Now, small town India too is kickboxing its way to glory — and into jobs. It is also changing lives, as Ranjeeta indicates. It got her a position in the police force, and erased the word fear from her vocabulary. “Now I don’t need to threaten anybody — I just act,” she says.

In Assam, kickboxing coach Ridib Baruah says most of his 25 female students are from lower middle class families who see kickboxing as a means of getting government jobs through sports quotas. Five of his students will participate in May in an international kickboxing tournament organised at Nashik by the All India Kickboxing Council, a government-registered, privately-run trust.

At the Vellankar Balak Ashram, an orphanage for girls in Sangli, practice is on for the contest. The orphanage has an astonishing number of kickboxing champs who have won awards at the district and state levels. And in a chorus, the girls say they want to become policewomen. Nazir Sayyed, their volunteer coach, says kickboxing has instilled confidence in the girls.

The 85 girls (in the age group of 7-18) at Vellankar’s practise barefoot on the tiled floor of the orphanage courtyard, their oversized frocks or kurtas over pyjamas swishing as they slice the air with sharp kicks, amidst the hissing sound of exhalation.

Kickboxing, as the name suggests, is a martial art system based on synchronised kicking and boxing. “It is a martial art ‘system’ and not a martial art because a regular martial art usually has its philosophies and techniques derived from ancient battlefield training. But kickboxing is a system designed for sport, self defence and physical fitness,” says Daniel Isaac, the proprietor of Tiger’s Gym and Fightclub, a kickboxing club at Nashik.

Coaches and kickboxers hold that the sport has led to significant changes in the lives of women. Some have been spectacular — such as jobs for women in a difficult-to-penetrate field like the police force. Some changes, perhaps less dramatic, are nonetheless equally important for women. Take Parvathi, a college student in Thiruvannamalai, a pilgrimage town 185 km from Chennai. She took to kickboxing three years ago to help her deal with the local Romeos who ragged her on her way to college. The boys haven’t pestered her for a while.

Most martial arts, Isaac points out, do not allow “hard contact” or sparring until a student has attained a senior “belt” or “grade” in the art. “But kickboxing encourages you to spar very early on into the training. Spar means to exchange techniques with another kickboxer.” The sport, he says, has four weapons — two fists and two feet. Muay Thai, which is a form of kickboxing, is a technique that uses eight weapons: fists, elbows, knees and feet.

“But kickboxing is not just about kicking and boxing,” stresses Tejal Patil, a 20-year-old Pune college student who has been learning kickboxing for the last six months. She says it has helped her physically, by raising her stamina, and mentally, by boosting her confidence. Above all, it has taught her to think on her feet and increase her concentration, which helps in college, she says.

Adds Mamtu Mirchandani, a 20-something business development manager for a broadband company in Mumbai, “I look forward to my kickboxing practice no matter how sore I feel the next day. It allows me to be myself. It de-stresses me and makes me forget everything.”

In Bangalore, Thilakavathi Ramakrishnan, a 23-year-old BPO employee who has been into kickboxing for more than two years, says it has boosted her morale and made her fearless while travelling late at night.

For some, gain has come in the shape of cups and prize money. While amateurs have to make do with medals and trophies, professionals can take home cash prizes — which range from Rs 10,000 to Rs 50,000 at the national level and $4,000 to $40,000 in international tournaments.

At present, India has no more than two potential professional women kickboxers. Ranjeeta is one, and Nabanita, 19, a trainee constable with the Assam police, is the other. Nabanita, who has won 45 golds, 17 silvers and five bronzes, started training without telling her parents when she was in the fourth standard. “They got to know only in 2004, when I participated in the 2004 national games,” she says.

Nabanita will be a part of the May contest. Some 80-100 Indian women fighters in the 12-25 age group are expected to take part in the games — consisting of an amateur and a professional round — and will be pitted against kickboxers from seven countries, Iran being the toughest contender. In 2003, only 20 Indian women took part in the games while 35 women participated in 2007.

According to Isaac, some amateur kickboxing organisations have been recognised by the Sports Authority of India, which has introduced the sport as an introductory demo item at state level and national games. The All India Kickboxing Council has its own India kickboxing circuit. “Every year, we organise district, state, national and international championships,” says Isaac, who is the president of the council. The council holds national games, the International Kickboxing Federation organises an Asian championship and the World Kickboxing League hosts the world championships.

Though kickboxers lament that there is little recognition from the government, much has changed in the last few years. Sponsorship for kickboxing championships is still a problem, but the organisers say funds are trickling in, with kickboxing slowly gaining visibility.

At Vellankar’s, the management and staff look forward to kickboxing practice — pre- and post-sunrise — before and after tea and a nutritious snack. “With the rising crime rate in Sangli, women have to be prepared to fight back,” says Pushpa Vellankar, a trustee, also trained in kickboxing.

Not surprisingly, parents with kickboxing daughters no longer look at the sport with suspicion. Acceptance, in fact, comes from pretty unlikely quarters sometimes. Coach Nazir’s ageing mother, Noorbi — the matriarch of the Sayyed household — says she is happy that her daughter-in-law, Minaz, is learning kickboxing. “Women must learn to protect themselves,” she says, reclining on a divan.