Ashok Namboodiri
As I exited the virtual press conference announcing that India has been awarded the 2030 Commonwealth Games, I sensed a measured optimism in the room in Glasgow. A robust evaluation process of the five expressions of interest had led to a shortlist of two – Nigeria and India – and the committee took their pick to the Board, who endorsed it. But for a nation that has already lived one Commonwealth Games dream and woken up to its administrative nightmare, celebration is only half the story. The other half is memory. And memory has teeth.
The press conference was careful to position India’s win as validation – proof that the country has evolved, matured, professionalised. The subtext was clear: this is not 2010. But saying it isn’t does not automatically make it so. Ahmedabad 2030 is not just an event. It is an audit of India’s sporting conscience.
Referring to 2030 as the centenary year of the Games, Deputy Chief Minister of Gujarat, Harsh Sanghavi, said it was not just an honour but a responsibility, and that the country would attempt to not only celebrate the last 100 years but also shape the next hundred. He said that Ahmedabad was preparing with “clarity, confidence and commitment”.
Ashwini Kumar, Principal Secretary, Government of Gujarat for Sports, Youth and Cultural Affairs, responded to a question on preparedness by stating that most venues were almost ready except for some minor modifications. The two venues coming up were the Sardar Vallabhbhai Sports Enclave and the Gujarat Police Academy, and funding was already secured. The Organising Committee would be constituted as early as next month, and the World Police and Fire Games in 2029 would serve as a trial.
India has never struggled to build. It has struggled to sustain. Every mega event is accompanied by glossy visuals of architectural ambition; yet travel a few years down the road and these icons often slip into disuse, symbolic rather than functional. The promise of “world-class infrastructure” is easy. The harder promise is what happens when the global broadcast signals stop blinking red.
Ahmedabad’s venues must evolve into high-performance centres, public sport spaces, community hubs, and grassroots incubators. If the Commonwealth Games merely produces world-class concrete without world-class participation, India will once again mistake infrastructure for transformation. The question is brutally simple: are we building for sport, or for spectacle?
There is no honest conversation about the Commonwealth Games in India without acknowledging 2010. That edition was not just poorly executed; it represented a systemic failure of oversight, transparency, and accountability. In Glasgow, officials leaned heavily on the narrative of “robust process” and “committee-led evaluation”. That is necessary but not sufficient. What India must commit to now is radical transparency: real-time financial disclosures, independent audits, clear procurement protocols, and public scrutiny at every stage. Not post-event explanations, but live accountability.
The real question is not how impressively India hosts the world, but how meaningfully it impacts its own athletes. Will this Games rewire funding models for emerging disciplines? Will it strengthen sport in Tier 2 and Tier 3 cities? Will it open pathways for young athletes who exist beyond the cosy ecosystem of elite academies? Ahmedabad 2030 is being framed as India’s moment of redemption. I would argue it is something sharper: a moment of reckoning. The difference lies in intent. Redemption seeks to erase history. Reckoning seeks to learn from it.
If Ahmedabad 2030 leaves behind healthier sporting ecosystems, empowered regional athletes, and a credible model for future hosting, it will stand as a turning point. As PT Usha, President of the Indian Olympic Association, said, “Sports has the power to transform individuals and unite communities.” The true test for India is whether the Games can create an opportunity for youth and athletes to shine on the world stage.
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