For more than two decades, Suresh Kalmadi stood at the heart of Indian sport—admired, criticised, powerful, and endlessly debated. His story was never linear; it was layered with ambition, controversy, achievement, and consequence. Born in Madras in 1944 and shaped in Pune, the city he would later represent and deeply influence, Kalmadi’s journey was never confined to one role. Before politics and power, there was discipline and duty—ten years in the Indian Air Force as a commissioned pilot and instructor, retiring as a Squadron Leader. That grounding in precision and command would later define the way he approached administration: assertive, driven, and unafraid to take ownership. Politics followed naturally. Sharad Pawar spotted the spark early, and Kalmadi rose rapidly through the Congress ranks, eventually becoming Rajya Sabha MP multiple times, Lok Sabha MP thrice, and a Union Minister. But it would not be Parliament that shaped his public identity. It was sport.
Kalmadi transformed himself into one of India’s most influential sports administrators at a time when sport outside cricket struggled for structure, funding, and relevance. As President of the Indian Olympic Association from 1996 to 2011 and long-time Athletics Federation of India chief, he wielded immense authority—but he also used it to bring world-class events to India, a feat earlier thought improbable. The Afro-Asian Games, the Commonwealth Youth Games, multiple Asian Athletics Championships, and the World Half Marathon—all came to India on his watch. He revived the National Games, giving athletes domestic platforms that mattered. He pushed Indian athletics onto the Asian stage, introduced international competition circuits, and helped create marquee sporting moments that inspired a generation. Under his tenure as IOA president came India’s breakthrough Olympic moment in 2008, when Abhinav Bindra won the nation’s first individual Olympic gold. To pretend these milestones didn’t exist would be dishonest. Kalmadi’s tenure expanded India’s sporting imagination, brought visibility to athletes beyond cricket, and helped position India as a capable global sporting host years before such confidence became fashionable.
Yet, legacies are rarely granted the luxury of being only celebratory. The 2010 Commonwealth Games altered everything. What should have been a triumph of national pride became synonymous with allegations, delays, mismanagement visuals, and ultimately Kalmadi’s arrest. Fairly or unfairly, he became the face of a scandal that embarrassed the nation and angered the public. The images linger still, overshadowing nearly everything else he had done. The Enforcement Directorate later filed a closure report, giving him a clean chit, but reputations in public life rarely recover fully. For years, his name became shorthand for excess, rot, and broken systems. That was the tragedy of Kalmadi—the same man who worked tirelessly to elevate Indian sport was also held responsible for its most humiliating fiasco. Somewhere between the outrage and the rhetoric, nuance was lost. He was neither a villain caricature nor a perfect reformer; he was a deeply consequential figure in a space that desperately needed both ambition and accountability.
When the news of his passing came, there was no single tone of remembrance. Instead, there was complexity—respect from those who worked closely with him, criticism from those who remembered only his fall, and reflection from those who acknowledged that modern Indian sports administration cannot be narrated without him. Perhaps that is the most honest way to remember Suresh Kalmadi. He embodied a phase of Indian sport that was bold, unapologetic, politically entangled, and deeply human. He expanded horizons, and he also invited scrutiny. His career is a reminder of how fragile reputations are in public life, how easily achievements are eclipsed by missteps, and how leadership in sport demands transparency as much as vision. As administrators today talk about professionalism, governance reforms, and global ambitions, it is worth recognising that much of this ecosystem was shaped during Kalmadi’s era—for better and worse. In the end, he leaves behind a legacy that refuses simplification: a legacy of scale, controversy, ambition, transformation, and undeniable impact.