By Rahil Gangjee 

So, here we are! If someone had told me I would be writing a fortnightly column about golf, I would have probably laughed, teed up a ball, and smacked it down the fairway instead. But life is full of surprises — some good and some like hitting a perfect drive only to find it nestled comfortably inside a divot. So, I’ll be sharing stories, experiences, and a few laughs about my journey in golf and beyond. Expect some serious nostalgia, mild exaggerations, and maybe even a tip or two (if I am feeling generous).

Growing up in golf’s heartland

Every kid who has made it big in their sport loves to say, “I was lucky to grow up in X or Y city/town/village.” But how many of them can claim that their home course is the oldest golf course outside the British Isles? That’s right. While others were dribbling basketballs or dreaming of Wimbledon, I was walking the fairways of the legendary Royal Calcutta Golf Club (RCGC) — a place where history seeps into your spikes with every step. Also, if you listened closely, you could probably hear the ghosts of British officers complaining about their slice!

Growing up in the early days of Indian golf had its perks, chief among them was that hardly anyone played! The course was always empty, which meant I could do whatever I wanted. No crowded fairways, no waiting for tee times, and definitely no disgruntled uncles sighing loudly if you took too long over a putt. I could practice as much as I liked, shaping my game under the vast open skies, creating my own training environment based on the wisdom of my coaches. These days, you can’t even get a tee time unless you book a week in advance. Great for the game, but maybe not so great for a young golfer trying to learn the craft in peace.

RCGC is just not another golf course; it has been the hub of Indian golf for decades. The prestigious Indian Open was held here every alternate year until 1999, and it has produced some of the country’s finest players. Think Indian Open champions Arjun Atwal, Feroz Ali, and SSP Chawrasia. Think Simi Mehra, the first Indian to play on the US LPGA Tour. And let’s not forget stalwarts like Basad Ali, who ruled the domestic circuit, along with several others whose names have slipped through the fingers of history like a rogue putt sliding past the hole.

But let’s be fair—RCGC doesn’t get all the credit. Across the road sat another piece of paradise: Tollygunge Club—my second home. While RCGC gave me golf, Tolly gave me everything else. I was a horse rider before I was a golfer, a swimmer before I ever walked a fairway. I even dabbled in competitive dance! I still remember a week when I won an amateur golf event while also rehearsing for a club dance competition. We won that too. If that’s not versatility, I don’t know what is! I’m still waiting for an invitation to Dancing with the Stars, but apparently, they don’t count my golf footwork as ‘dancing.’ Looking back, my daily routine was like a military schedule—but one I happily imposed on myself:

5-6 am: Run (apparently, I didn’t tire myself out enough during the day)

6-8 am: Chipping and putting practice (also known as “how many balls can I miss before breakfast” time)

8-10 am: Play nine holes (some good shots, some that needed a search party)

10 am-1 pm: Eat and sleep in the changing room (true athlete behaviour—recovery is important!)

1.30-3 pm: More putting practice (aka revenge for the morning session)

3-5 pm: Another nine holes or long game practice

6-6.30 pm: Swim (mostly to feel like I was doing something different)

7.30 pm: Dinner (and plotting world domination through golf)

9 pm: Out like a light

And then I’d wake up and do it all over again.

My mom was my biggest cheerleader—but also my toughest coach. My parents encouraged me, but they didn’t force anything on me. Golf had to be my dream. Although, considering the number of lost balls I racked up, I’m sure my dad had nightmares about how much I was spending on them.

The La Martiniere factor

Another institution that played a huge role in shaping me was my school—La Martiniere for Boys, Kolkata. Academics were important, but at La Martiniere, sports was a way of life. I was the vice-captain of the swim team, played field hockey, sprinted my way to a 100m time of 11.2 seconds, played football for my house team, and dabbled in elocution competitions. I also managed to form the school’s first-ever golf team, which we took to New Delhi for a tournament in 1994.

For the longest time, golf wasn’t even my number one sport. It was just one of many. It wasn’t until I turned 16 that I realised golf was the thing I truly wanted to pursue. I gave up horse riding for fear of injury, swimming took a backseat after school, and running became something I did for fitness rather than competition. The last time I played football was in 2002—in front of India Gate—where I promptly sprained my foot. A sign from the universe, perhaps?

Looking back, the late 90s and early 2000s were a golden era—not just because of the golfing opportunities I had, but because of the sheer joy of playing multiple sports, of figuring things out on my own, of learning through trial, error, and repetition. Golf wasn’t always my first love—but like any great romance, it found its way to the top. And the rest, as they say, is history (or at least, the kind of history I’ll be telling in this column, which is much more 

fun anyway).

The writer is a professional golfer, sharing through this column what life on a golf course is like.

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