In an exclusive interview, Madhya Pradesh’s Sohail Khan reflects on his remarkable journey – becoming the first Indian male to reach a Kudo World Cup final, carrying not just a silver medal but also placing India on the global map of a sport still struggling for recognition back home.
Earlier this month, in a quiet corner of Sofia, Bulgaria, the Indian flag rose on unfamiliar ground. It wasn’t cricket. It wasn’t wrestling. There were no roaring crowds or primetime broadcasts. But inside a modest arena, on a blue mat far from the spotlight, a 25-year-old from Sagar, Madhya Pradesh, did something no Indian man had ever done before.
Sohail Khan became the first Indian male fighter to reach the final of the Kudo World Cup.
When he returned home with a silver medal draped around his neck, it wasn’t just history—it was a statement. That even in the margins of Indian sport, in corners few care to explore, someone was still fighting. Still pushing boundaries. Still demanding recognition.
A SPORT THAT FOUND HIM
Before discovering Kudo, Sohail was already a decorated karateka and taekwondo athlete. But something was missing.
“People often ask me—if I had already reached the national and international level in karate, why did I switch?” he says. “Some even point out that taekwondo and karate have been part of the Olympics. But for me, Kudo offered something deeper—it teaches everything together.”
The sport that would eventually define him wasn’t introduced with medals or glory, but with curiosity.
“Son,” his coach told him, “there’s a game where you learn punching, kicking, throwing—everything at once. It’s not just self-defence—it’s a complete sport.”
That pitch stayed with him.
“What I couldn’t learn by going to different places or trying different sports,” he says, “I was able to learn all in one place.”
HOW IS KUDO DIFFERENT FROM MMA?
Kudo is a Japanese hybrid martial art—a full-contact combat sport that blends safety with practicality. Unlike traditional styles that focus solely on striking or grappling, Kudo integrates punches and kicks with throws, locks, restraints, and chokeholds. Fighters wear headgear and gloves, combining aggression with protection.
The discipline was founded in 1981 by Azuma Takashi, a black belt in both Kyokushin Karate and Judo. Azuma envisioned a martial art that transcended the limits of a single discipline. He merged the most effective aspects of striking and grappling to create Daido Juku—a system built around structured, competitive combat. In 2001, it was formally renamed Kudo.
When Sohail tells people he plays Kudo, he’s often met with blank stares. Most mistake it for Judo. Others assume it’s a form of Karate or Kung Fu.
“It’s still new in India,” he says. “A lot of people hear ‘Judo’ instead. Others think it’s like Karate or Kung Fu—but those are completely different.”
Many also compare it to MMA, but Sohail is quick to set the record straight.
“The biggest difference,” he explains, “is that Kudo has structure. It’s a sport—with a point system and strict safety rules. MMA is freestyle: you either win by knockout or submission. But in Kudo, even though it’s full-contact, safety is always a priority.”
He breaks it down: “There are punches like boxing, kicks like taekwondo, throws like judo, and submissions from wrestling and jiu-jitsu. But it’s not a free-for-all. It’s controlled, disciplined, and respectful.”
That balance of intensity and order is what drew him in.
“Kudo gave me the thrill of combat, but also the assurance of control. It’s professional. It’s regulated. And it’s grounded in respect.”
Today, Kudo is recognised in Japan as a Budo sport—one that honours martial tradition while embracing modern sporting values.
In India, its rise began with Soshihan Mehul Vora, president of the KIFI Association. A landmark moment came during the 3rd Akshay Kumar International Invitational Karate-Do Tournament, when six All-Japan champions demonstrated Kudo techniques in India. The impact was immediate—and for young athletes like Sohail, it was transformative.
“KHEL KUD KAR BAN GAYE NAWAB”
Once he embraced the sport, Sohail stopped being a part-time athlete.
“Eventually, I became a full-time Kudo player,” he says. “It wasn’t a hobby anymore.”
His resume reads like a martial arts dream: a gold at the Junior Kudo World Cup in 2017, bronze at the 2024 Eurasian Cup, and now silver at the World Cup.
Back home, he earned a new title: “The Golden Boy of Madhya Pradesh.” Coined by a local journalist, it stuck. He has now won 22 consecutive national championships—a staggering feat in Indian combat sport.
Behind those medals is a story of quiet determination, working-class grit, and the enduring power of one mentor’s faith.
Born into a middle-class household in Sagar, Sohail’s path to international success was anything but smooth. His mother was a sub-inspector in the state police; his father worked as a clerk in the agriculture department. In their world, sport wasn’t a career—it was a distraction.
In Sagar, a common refrain goes: “Kheloge kudoge banoge kharab, padhoge likhoge banoge nawab.”
(If you play, you ruin your future. If you study, you succeed.)
Naturally, his parents were hesitant.
“They were okay with me playing,” he says. “But studies always came first.”
That changed when the medals started coming. His coach, Dr Ejaz Khan, not only trained him but also convinced his parents that sport wasn’t a detour—it was his destiny.
“He told them I had the potential to go far. That made all the difference.”
Institutional support came slowly. In 2018–19, the Indian government officially recognised Kudo as a sport eligible for central sports quota jobs. Sohail now works with the Mumbai Income Tax Department—a rare example of backing for a Kudo athlete.
PUTTING INDIA ON THE KUDO MAP
In Bulgaria, Sohail edged through the quarterfinals (1–0), dominated the semis (4–0), and battled through a brutal final that went into a rare third round—one of only two such bouts at the tournament. He fell just short of gold.
But that wasn’t the point.
“Let me tell you something interesting,” he says. “India is seen as an underdog in martial arts and combat sports globally. That pressure—to just win a single fight—was heavier than the medal round.”
Now that he’s broken the barrier, his sights are set higher.
