Send in the Clowns

Send in the Clowns

Olympic Men's Podium, 2026

Every year, around October, something happens that I am sure the general population finds quite incomprehensible. The small minority of humanity that is unhinged enough to have an affection, or, I daresay, a love for the sport of figure skating, starts getting…excited. Some might even mistake this feeling for happiness, but let me assure you, the more correct terminology might be “anxious,” “apprehensive,” and “living in a constant state of dread.”

However, “anxious,” “apprehensive,” and “living in a constant state of dread” is precisely what passes for happiness with figure skating fans—perhaps those who term it thus are not that mistaken after all.

The reason should be obvious: it is time for the figure skating season to begin.

Technically, it began two months ago with the Junior Grand Prix in Xi'an, China, and kicked into gear with Challenger Series events happening in Japan, Georgia, Germany, Kazakhstan, and elsewhere.

But we are now getting to the real meat of the season, as it were—the Grand Prix series. And it kicks off, as usual, in France, with the aptly titled Grand Prix de France (or as some call it, the Trophée Éric Bompard).

So let’s take a little primer of where the various figure skating disciplines stand, shall we, as a way to get started?

I’m going to use the results of the 2026 Milan-Cortina Olympics as the base for this list, since that’s the best way to get a sense of who the main players on this sparkly, dazzling stage are.

The Men’s Field

Mikhail Shaidorov

• Nickname: Misha
• Country: Kazakhstan
• Personal Best: 291.58
• The Lowdown: Misha is endearing, Misha is a game trier, and when things go right for him, Misha places on the World podium (as he did in 2025). But no one thought Misha would be Olympic Champion… until he was. Shaidorov is now essentially royalty in his home country and has already competed this year. We will see him in France and China in the Grand Prix series.

Yuma Kagiyama

• Status: Will not be competing this season to focus on his burgeoning photography career. (We expect stunning framing from the boards, at least!)

Shun Sato

• Nickname: None
• Country: Japan
• Personal Best: 292.08
• The Lowdown: Shun Sato spent much of his career so far in the shadow of Yuma Kagiyama, and this season will give him the perfect opportunity to grow into his own. Sato is a flamboyant skater who traditionally struggles with consistency, but he spent the 2025–26 season putting out a series of very steady performances, leading him to finish in the bronze medal position at both the Olympics and Worlds. He has already competed this year, and we will see him in China and his home country of Japan for the Grand Prix.

Cha Jun-whan

• Status: Will not be competing this season to focus on his acting career. (Cue the dramatic k-drama soundtrack.)

Stephen Gogolev

• Nickname: Gogo
• Country: Canada
• Personal Best: 281.04
• The Lowdown: Gogo was one of the finest junior skaters in the world not that long ago. With his height, his clean jumps, and his lines, he seemed destined for senior success. And then injuries and inconsistency relegated him to the back of the pecking order—until the 2025–26 season brought us the Gogo-ssance. Putting out strong skate after strong skate, Gogo seemed to get better with every competition. Since Canada hasn’t really had a top-class marquee skater in the men’s draw since Patrick Chan hung up his boots, a lot of eyes will be on Gogolev as he competes in his home Grand Prix in Canada and then in Finland.

Petr Gumennik

• Nickname: Petya
• Country: AIN (Russia)
• Personal Best: 271.21
• The Lowdown: While Russian skaters like Petr have been re-admitted to international competition, there has been much confusion over who gets slots at Grand Prix events. Despite his high finish at the Olympics and a personal best of 271.21, Petr has had to wait on withdrawals to secure a spot. Currently, he is on the alternate list. Gumennik has some delightfully clean jumps and is, in his own way, quite musical.

Adam Siao Him Fa

• Nickname: Adam SHF
• Country: France
• Personal Best: 306.78
• The Lowdown: When Adam is good, there is no one quite like him. His jumps are powerful, his musicality is extraordinary, and his performances can utterly blow an audience away. There are times when he truly seems to be the answer to the prayers of figure skating fans who yearn for someone to balance the technical and artistic aspects of the sport. But most of the time, Adam is… not good. Famous for combining a stunning Short Program with a horrendous Free Skate (or vice versa), we really never know which version of him we are going to get. But we’ll know soon enough as he competes on home soil in France and then in Finland.

Ilia Malinin

• Nickname: QuadGod
• Country: USA
• Personal Best: 333.81
• The Lowdown: By all rights, this should have been the name at the very top of the list. Going into the Olympics, he had not been defeated in two seasons and was routinely winning competitions by over 30 points. He even delivered two excellent performances in the team event to lead Team USA to gold. And then came one of the most infamous meltdowns in Olympic history as Malinin popped jump after jump in a performance that ended in tears.

Malinin returned with a roar at the World Championships not long after, showing that he is still the sheer mountain that every other man needs to scale. The closest comparison to Ilia is probably Simone Biles, which is saying something. He can do things no one else can, or ever has before. Malinin will be seen at Skate America and the NHK Trophy in Japan.

Daniel Grassl

• Nickname: The Pope
• Country: Italy
• Personal Best: 288.72
• The Lowdown: The Pope (so called for his iconic Conclave program from last year) isn’t the best out there when it comes to basic skating skills, and his jumps tend to leave fans with their hearts in their mouths due to their sheer wildness. As for his spins, they can look a bit like a frog in a blender. But there is one thing Grassl never is, and that is boring. When he stays on his feet, the Pope can pull off some seriously impressive results. He will be at Skate America and Japan, going head-to-head against Malinin.

Nika Egadze

• Nickname: None
• Country: Georgia
• Personal Best: 273.00
• The Lowdown: Nika Egadze can win a championship one week and barely make the top 10 the next. There are times when he can make skating look remarkably easy, and times when he can’t keep his skates on the ice for love or money. The reigning European champion has started this season well, however, and will be at China and Canada to try and rack up some silverware leading into his title defense.

Other Names to Watch

• Vladislav Dikidzhi & Evgeni Semenenko: Both competing under neutral status, they will definitely be challenging for top spots wherever they take the ice.
• The Selevko Brothers (Mikhail and Aleksander): Representing Estonia, this dynamic duo has been improving at a breakneck pace over the past season.

That rounds out the men’s field—and while it leaves open the very likely possibility that someone out of left field (which in figure skating means a terrifyingly talented teenager coming up from the junior ranks) will make an impact, it’s a great place to get started as you prepare your nerves for the months ahead.

Grab your comfort blankets, stock up on stress-snacks, and let the games begin!

 

WAR, DICTATORS, THE MACHINE, AND FIGURE SKATING - II

 

Read Part 1 of this series here

THE DEATH STAR

The season immediately following Alina Zagitova and Evgenia Medvedeva’s 1-2 at the Olympic Games in South Korea saw a slight cooling in what had seemed like Russia’s march to domination. Medvedeva was nursing injuries and undergoing some personal turmoil. Zagitova was still the best skater in the field, winning the World Championships and two Grand Prix, but the Japanese skaters Rika Kihira and Satoko Miyahara were giving her a run for her money. Kazakhstan’s Elizabeta Tursynbayeva and Japan’s Kaori Sakamoto were also making a mark. Kihira would even end up defeating Zagitova at the Grand Prix Finals.

Alina Zagitova, World Champion.
Yes, she really was that cute.

But it was the Junior Ranks that were truly showing where the future lay. Every important Junior event, barring one, were won by one of the 3 skaters who comprised ‘3A’, culmninating in Alexandra Trusova winning the Junior World Championships. 

 

The season that followed would be complete domination by 3A. Between them, they won every Grand Prix, culminating in standing on the Grand Prix Finals podium together; Kostornoia in gold, Scherbakova in silver and Trusova in bronze, and repeating the feat at the European Championships, with an identical podium. Alina Zagitova, once the Queen of the sport, was relegated to fighting for silvers and bronzes.

Alena Kostornoia

What powered this? Well, the answer was – Quads. I touched briefly upon this in my earlier essay, but maybe it’s time to delve into the subject in a little more detail. 

 

Figure skating is not a race or a throw or a lift or a jump where time taken, distance thrown, weight lifted or height jumped gives an objective winner. It is a ‘judged’ sport, and in a judged sport, winners are decided by points assigned by judges. Over the years, as the sport’s governing body, the ISU, sought to make the judging process more and more transparent and objective, a lot of the sport became mathematics rather than art. The skating routine was broken down into ‘elements’. 

 

Jumps, when the skater left the ice and rotated in the air before landing.

Spins, which I hope is self-explanatory,

Step sequences, where skaters are judged on skating skill, based on how clean their edgework is and how intricate the patterns they draw in the ice are,  

Choreo sequences, the artistic interpretation of the music they are skating to.

Anna Scherbakova, mid-spin. A layback spin.

Each element is assigned a certain ‘Base Value’, meaning that a skater performing that particular element, as long as it was serviceable (no falls, wobbles) would get that Base Value marks. Executing it well would get an additional score as ‘Grade of Execution’. A failed element would result in a deduction from the Base Value. 

 

Naturally, the Base Value assigned to an element was higher, the more difficult the element was. And in general, jumps were considered the most difficult elements. Now there are various kinds of jumps, and each has a different Base Value, going from the relatively easier Toeloop (easier because it allows the skate to use the skate’s front end toe-pick to launch a jump) to the difficult Axel (the only jump where the skater has to launch forwards and do an additional half-rotation). Similarly, the more rotations the skater does in the air, the higher the Base Value, so a triple-loop would score higher than a double-loop, and so on.

 

Until 2019, no woman had successfully completed a Quadruple jump in competition. Surya Bonaly had tried, back in the early 90’s, but it was not fully rotated. Alexandta Trusova, however, was doing every Quad jump apart from the Axel, and while Scherbakova was doing just the one, it was far more stable than Trusova' who tended go all-or-nothing. Kostornoia did not have a Quad, but she had a beautiful and stable triple-axel.

 

In other words, what 3A brought to Figure Skating was akin to when graphite rackets were introduced to tennis in the 1980’s. Suddenly, it seemed as though the ‘field’ was using the equivalent of wooden rackets, though in reality, there was no change in the equipment, as such. 3A, all of whom trained with the same coach in Khrustalny, Russia, had simply taken the sport to another plane. 

Alexandra Trusova doing a quad. Don't let how easy
she makes it look deceive you. This is
INCREDIBLY difficult.

The emergence of Covid-19 devastated the 2020-21 season. The skaters were largely disallowed from travel, barely able to train, and competitions were curtailed. The Junior Season was hardly held at all. Evgenia Medvedeva formally retired. Kostornoia spent much of the season injured. 

In this curtailed environment, Anna Scherbakova moved into the dominant position and Elizaveta Tuktamshayeva, now in her 20's (practically ancient by Russian standards) returned to form, unveiling a fierce triple-axel and a mature musical interpretation that oft times showed up how inadequate Scherbakova and Trusova were in that department. 

Elzaveta Tuktamshayeva (Liza Tuktik)
The best skater to never go to the Olympics

At the end of the season, Anna Scherbakova won the World Championship, ahead of Tuktamshayeva and Trusova. This established Scherbakova as the firm favourite for the following season, and that season, 2021-22 was an Olympic year. But no matter who much the English-language press insisted Scherbakova was the favourite going into the Olympics, she refused to acknowledge it. 

Perhaps part of that was genuine modesty. To this day, Scherbakova is known for being gracious and diplomatic and highly intelligent. But part of it was surely that Scherbakova knew something they, the non-Russian press, did not. After all, the Junior circuit had been heavily curtailed that year, so perhaps they did not quite 'get' it, but Anna Scherbakova trained alongside Kamila Valieva, and she knew what was coming.

 

For in that year, the year before Russian forces were to invade Ukraine, Kamila Valieva was going to compete as a senior. And that was going to change everything.

-

WAR, DICTATORS, THE MACHINE, AND FIGURE SKATING - 1

THROW THEM INTO THE GRINDER, THE RUSSIAN WAY

Around three years and six months ago, Russian forces invaded Ukraine. 

This had severe consequences, mostly for the people of Ukraine, and naturally, ripple effects all around the world. Trade routes disrupted, oil supplies diverted, the most cringe political advertisement we've come across on Indian TV…

Another consequence, perhaps a minor one compared to the majesty of the woman declaring how 'War rukva di', was the banning of Russia from competing in Figure Skating.

It's hard to explain the seismic impact of this move without delving a little into the sport's history.

Figure Skating and Russia (former USSR) have, sometimes for better and often for worse, always been deeply entwined. Which is as you would expect, given, you know, Geography. In a sport that had its own pushes and pulls, whose very existence a constant effort to balance between artistry and athleticism, subjective judging and objective criteria, there was something you could always look forward to, or dread – when it came to the business end of a competition, the Russians would always be there. 

For a long time, they dominated Pairs Skating and Ice Dance. Then there was the era of Evgeni Plushenko, an absolute diva who justified his billing as the greatest male skater ever more often than not. But from the mid-2010's, it was Russian women who took centre-stage.

Did I say women? Perhaps 'girls' might be the more accurate term to use here. For there was no doubt about it - even in a discipline that has always skewed toward young prodigies, and careers tend to be short, the Russian contingents would be so youthful as to be more 'middle-school' than 'Varsity'. Powered by coaches who achieved practically celebrity status, heavy investment from the Government, massive enthusiasm from parents who pushed their daughters into the sport as soon as they could walk, 'sports doctors' with very flexible attitudes towards ethics and drug use, and perhaps the innate connection to the ice that only comes from being raised by wild wolves and babushkas, Russian skaters began to dominate the medal tables across the world. 

Occasionally a particularly talented Japanese skater might break through at a prestigious tournament, but this was an exception, not the rule. And another 'rule' that emerged? With one notable exception, Russian skaters retired almost as soon as they hit puberty. 

1. Adelina Sotnikova (Olympic Gold, 2014) competed her last at 18, 

2. Alina Zagitova (Olympic Gold, 2018), competed her last at 17, 

3. Evgenia Medvedeva (Olympic Silver, 2018) competed till she was 21, but was no longer close to her earlier standards by then),

4. Yulia Lipnitskaya (Olympic Team Gold, 2014) competed her last at 17 but had already lost her consistency before her sixteenth birthday.

L-R Adelina Sotnikova and Yulia Lipnitskaya, having won
Individual Gold and Team Gold for Russia

And this is not mentioning the scores of girls who never quite made these competitive heights but were also 'finished' before they had seen 20, consigned to being ‘forgotten’ and pursuing the career path of being ‘Instagram Models’ for the most part. 

The thing to note here is that these were not retirements driven by fatigue with the sport, or a sense of having achieved everything already (except perhaps Zagitova, whose career deserves a separate post). It was purely the complete breakdown of their bodies. Sotnikova, by the end, was competing with titanium plates in her spine. Lipnitskaya suffered from anorexia and related problems. Medvedeva's proximate cause for retirement may have been Covid, but she had three fractures in her spine and osteoporosis (at 18!). Zagitova, in 'only' suffering an arm and leg fracture, was the one who got off 'easier' than the rest'. 

L-R Alina Zagitova and Evgenia Medvedva were once bitter rivals.
Clearly, this is no longer the case.

What this pointed to, obviously, was a severe rot in the Russian system. It invoked images of a beastly, devouring machine, consuming youth, feeding on hope and spitting out flawed, broken diamonds who shone just long enough to bring a sliver of glory to 'Mother Russia' before being confined to the scrap heap, alongside all the ones who did not even make it that far. 

I should, of course, clarify that Figure Skating as a sport IS brutal upon the body. Russian skaters were not the only ones who suffered horrific, career-ending injuries. Ankle, back and leg injuries have plagued competitors across the world, as, in pursuit of more and more difficult moves and complex routines, they push their bodies to extents that even the spectacular results do not justify. And Coaches are abusive in this beautiful sport everywhere, and it is fair to say that the bright sequins, the layers of make-up and perfect smiles hide more than just the pain of superhuman effort. But the Russian system was particularly egregious, relying far more on the natural flexibility and lightness of youth combined with brutal, abusive training methods, than on technique and strength training. 

Amber Glenn, the best skater overall of last season, at 26

A telling picture can be drawn from the contrasting career arcs of Russian female skaters vs other countries' skaters. Where skaters from other countries could, and did, remain competitive till their mid-20's, often even improving as their strength evolved alongside their technical prowess, Russian skaters peaked typically in their first two seasons as senior before falling away, because their training methods focussed not on building a 'career' but on getting 'results fast', always at the cost of the health, physique and mental well-being of the girls who submitted to the machine in search of fame and glory. So while the Japanese Kaori Sakamoto enjoyed a stunning career peak after the age of 22, the American Amber Glenn had the best season of her career last year at 25, and Loena Hendricks had hers at 24, the only Russian skater to enjoy a high-level career past the age of 20 has been Elizaveta Tuktamshayeva, who is seen as a complete anomaly (the aforementioned ‘notable exception’).

Loena Hendricks has been around since 2015 and just gets better and better.

Into this milieu, around 2019-20, emerged the trio who would be known as '3A' (a pun, for ‘3A’ is also the short-hand for the Triple-Axel, one of the hardest jumps in the sport). Anna Scherbakova, Alexandra Trusova and Alena Kostornoia were all young, charismatic and skating at what seemed like two levels above what anyone else was at the time, even their own countrywomen. 

 

Scherbakova had remarkable consistency, reliably putting down flawless programs.  Kostornoia had skating skills that matched the best Japanese skaters and beautiful musical interpretation. And Trusova - well, Trusova was a stormy petrel of a skater, a maverick who refused to let wise counsel prevail, pushing herself to jump Quadruple jump after Quadruple Jump (Four rotations in the air), often against coaching advice, relying on an incredible core strength and probably a death wish of some kind. 

L-R Anna Scherbakova, Alena Kostornoia and Alexandra  Trusova
"3A"

And the thing is, 3A caught imaginations worldwide. Figure Skating, long languishing on the margins of international sport, was threatening to become relevant again. Every Grand Prix, every tournament, became a contest to see what 3A would accomplish. And more important, their 'quad revolution' was spreading. American skaters, Japanese skaters, were training harder than ever. Loena Hendricks didn't expect to win a tournament where 3A were entered, but she damn well meant to try. Kaori Sakamoto didn't have the technical arsenal to match them, but she worked on being so good at executing what she did have that she managed, even without a Quad jump or Triple Axel, to be the closest to competing with them anyone has been. 

We will gloss over, for now, the emergence of Kamila Valieva. We will gloss over the 2022 Olympic Games at Beijing and their dramatic, near-tragic conclusion. I have written about that in detail elsewhere, and may yet write much more. Suffice to say that Anna Scherbakova won. Alexandra Trusova was second while Kaori Sakamoto won the most popular bronze medal I've ever seen.

And then, mere days after Anna Scherbakova stood atop a podium as the saddest figure to even be on that top step, and Alexandra Trusova stood next to her after almost refusing to be there, as I said at the beginning, Russia invaded Ukraine.

- 

Read Part 2 of this series here

 

'BAIPAN BHAARI DEVA', OR, THE INCREDIBLE HEAVINESS OF BEING

 'BAIPAN BHAARI DEVA', OR, THE INCREDIBLE HEAVINESS OF BEING

 

Baipan Bhaari Deva (2023, Marathi. Director: Kedar Shinde)

 

It’s all in the title, really.

 

No, think about it.

 

‘Baipan Bhaari Deva’ translates, if one were to be literal, to ‘Womanhood is heavy, O God’. But the nuance is in the non-literal translation—‘Womanhood is difficult’, if one were to interpret ‘heavy’ as a burden. ‘Womanhood is powerful’, if one were to interpret ‘bhaari’ in the colloquial Marathi sense it is often used.

 

Director Kedar Shinde and the writer, Vaishali Naik craft this narrative with love and understanding, creating a film that is easy to watch, entertaining, and yes, also says a lot about the sisterhood, and the travails of (admittedly, middle-upper-middle class) Indian women.

 

The story ostensibly revolves around a Mangalagaur competition. ‘Mangalagaur’, for those of you not steeped in Mahrashtrian culture (and if not, you should be; there's more to it than koli geet and right-wing lunacy), is a traditional gathering of women that takes place in the Hindu month of ‘Shravan’. Any Tuesday night in the month can be scheduled, and the host invites her friends and acquaintances depending on how much of a public event she wants to make it. A function that, no doubt, began as a way to assimilate a new bride into her marital home by bringing her into contact with a community of women from the locality, survives to the present day. The centrepiece of the function is the ‘frolic’; a series of performances of traditional dances and games accompanied by singing songs ranging from the religious to the borderline bawdy. Before women going to watch movies in large groups wearing pink became acceptable as a form of community-building, it was functions like this that served the purpose of providing a safe space for female bonding.

 

In Baipan, the competition excites the interest of Shashi Kakade, a just-retired corporate executive, when she finds that her daughter’s mother-in-law is planning to take part. Determined to show her daughter than anything her husband’s mother can do, Shashi can do better, she tries to enlist her sisters into joining her to form a group and enter. Convincing the six Kakade sisters to come together turns out to be a task. Keeping them together, training to get good enough to compete, and what eventually happens when they get on stage forms the movie’s story.

 

And yet, as I said, the film is only ostensibly about the competition. What we are seeing, in reality, is some really well-done character-work and commentary. Each Kakade sister has drifted apart over the years, and each are struggling with their own demons. From Jaya, affectionately called ‘Mai’ (mother), who has remained childless, and struggles with depression, to Charu, whose seemingly fulfilled marital life is punctuated by financial strain and a feckless husband, from Sadhana, the crooner silenced by a conservative father-in-law, to the twins Ketaki and Pallavi, the former using her husband’s wealth as a façade to hide her sense of worthlessness and the latter going through a painful divorce, to Shashi herself, whose ambition and narcissism has alienated so many, the Kakade sisters have more to struggle with than aching joints and brittle bones as they try to re-learn the steps of the dances and games that punctuated their idyllic childhood.

 

The film is brave, in a sense. Marathi cinema has not been in good health, artistically or financially. The younger demographic is more drawn to mainstream Bollywood or even English films. This has led to the industry stuck in doldrums; Marathi films are either highly-esoteric festivalcore art that no one watches, or poor attempts at crowd-pleasers pandering to folk-heroes that may turn profits, but are critically negligible. Baipan, then, taking on a contemporary theme, casting middle-aged female actors and not pandering to the 'Marathi pride' gang, at least in an overt way, must have known it was taking a risk.

 

And yet, Marathi cinema has been at its best when it has focussed on emotional bonds, and Baipan plays to this strength. It would have been easy to fall into a trap of trite sentimentality or twee answers to the struggles the women in the film face. But—and credit to the writers and director—it does not. Baipan might shy away from getting too ugly, from really plumbing the depths of what the patriarchy has done to Marathi women, but in the arena it plays in, it is honest.

 

That is more, probably, than anyone could say for the films mainstream Bollywood makes.

 

This honesty rides on performances of true calibre. A film about six middle-aged sisters has no box-office stars (not that Marathi cinema has anyone that fits this description), and that is a good thing. Whether it is legends of the stage and cinema like Rohini Hattangadi as Jaya and Vandana Gupte as Shashi, or veteran TV soap actors like Sukanya Kulkarni as Sadhana and Suchitra Bandekar as Pallavi, each brings a distinctiveness to their roles, never letting their personalities become bigger than the writing, or falling short of where they need to be.

 

In this day and age, Mangalagaurs  are hardly common. New brides often celebrate one in the first Shravan after their weddings, but that is about it. The games and dances are rarer still; for few remain who remember those things that should not have been forgotten.

 

But still, even in this day and age, nearly a month after its release, I walked into the theatre in Mumbai that was packed to the gills to see a film about six-middle-aged women. Despite being up against Oppenheimer, playing at theatres a stone’s throw away, Plaza in Dadar had a full house for Baipan, The theatre started by the legendary V Shantaram, the theatre that had lived through terrorist blasts and the dark, empty days of Marathi cinema, was overflowing with patrons, a majority of them women, many dressed in fancy nine-yard sarees, adorned with ornaments, who had made seeing this film their own Barbie moment.

 

As the credits rolled, I wondered whether those droves had come for the feminism, the characterisations, the subtext, or merely for the window-dressing, to see a film about ‘a Mangalagaur competition’. 

 

The answer is that it was an irrelevant point. It did not matter. To them, and to millions like them who have made this film the year’s biggest Marathi film by a considerable distance, this was their Barbie moment, their Wonder Woman, their Black Panther. A moment Bollywood would never have given them, a moment the language barrier to English would have tragically kept away. From Mumbai to Nagpur, from Nasik to Kolhapure, Baipan was having its day, bonding its viewers into an experience celebrating womanhood.

 

And it deserved it.