“You know he was the one who taught me how to swing, back in the eighties?”  

Three men pull down their caps, hoist their putters and summon their caddies — it’s past lunchtime at the sixth hole of Delhi Golf Club’s flagship 18-hole Lodhi Course as the late-March sunshine pelts hard on their backs. Chipping in his second birdie of the day, cricket pundit and ex-world champion Kapil Dev — often spotted on golf courses these days — sets off for the next hole alongside friend and golfing entrepreneur Ateet Gaur. Both men have played golf across the world for the better part of three decades; though the man watching them tread across the greens has a much more personal, purposeful relationship to the game, its future, and most certainly its past.  

“The whole revolution with [modern] golf started around 25 years ago, with Tiger Woods,” says golfer and philanthropist Amit Luthra. “Guy was a one-man army; everyone following the black man, whites behind him. He started a revolution; now even villagers know his name.” Famed for his ‘82 Asian Games win that marked India’s first big step forward in golf, Luthra’s home in Delhi is littered with silverware from decades of competitive play; though his true legacy is more visible during his 15th Invitational Fundraiser Tournament — a philanthropic effort that has jumpstarted the careers of several young golfers, many of whom may have never seen a green without Luthra’s The Golf Foundation (TGF). You can spot it in the calm, passionate way in which Luthra guides young players invited to the course that afternoon; but for golfing to come all the way here, there was a lot that needed to be done.  

State of Play

Golf in India traces its origins to the mid-19th century, with the Royal Calcutta Golf Club, established in 1829, recognised as the oldest golf club outside the United Kingdom. Like cricket, football, rugby, polo and other British exports, an early introduction during the British Raj saw golf as an exclusive sport for British officials and affluent Indians. The sport's popularity and competitive stature in India saw a significant upswing in the latter half of the 20th century, marking a slow but notable shift towards inclusivity and broader participation. Like all cross-cultural sports, however, true entrenchment in India began with the introduction of golfing’s other big caveat — money.  

“The actual money started pouring in back in ’61 and ’ 62,” elaborates Luthra, noting how Aussie golf legend Peter Thomson established the Asian Open back in the mid-sixties. P. G. ‘Billoo’ Sethi would rack up a first-ever amateur win at the Indian Open back in ’65 and was soon followed by an explosion of caddies-turned-pros; young men who were informally taught golf as they assisted players around India’s few courses, quietly honing their skills. “In those days,” reminisces Luthra, “there were tons of caddy pros — players like Basad Ali and Noni. There weren’t many ‘gentleman pros’; people like me or others from affluent families. It was looked down upon — ‘arrey caddy khel raha hai. Chalo usko paanch hazar de do.’ The total prize money back then was about a lakh, where the winner would get six thousand rupees. Not bad for forty years ago, but not much either.”  

The gulf in talent and access continued for a few more years until Luthra’s generation stepped forward in the eighties. Here, an interesting trend played out as caddy pros were now overtaken by gentleman pros; the likes of trailblazers such as Shiv Kapur and Gaurav Ghei. All well-educated, well-to-do men hungry for a slice of golfing glory, they established India’s presence on the Asian and European Open tours. Greater prize money has served as a major motivator. This has trickled down to the Indian Open as well in recent years; having just concluded this March, the ‘24 tournament saw a prize pool of $2.25 million, with Keita Nakajima’s winner's share at $382,500.  

As the prize pools within Indian golf have grown, reflecting a more lucrative era for the sport's elite, the disparities at its grassroots level continue to present a stark contrast. This juxtaposition of the sport's elite prosperity with its accessibility issues at the grassroots underscores a critical juncture in Indian golf's evolution. The story of increased prize money is not just a tale of success but also a beacon, highlighting the untapped potential within India’s vast and diverse population.  

Luthra’s own history with philanthropy mirrors this. “It all started in 1990, when I was playing for India,” he recounts. “Back then, I used to practise five hours a day. One of the aagewalas — ball-boys — who worked for me was 10 years old at the time; his name was Ashok Kumar.” Luthra took a liking to the boy, who practised putting alongside him after practise hours. One day, Kumar challenged the then-India-number one to a game. “I knew this kid had gumption and balls,” he continues. “I tried to get him into Delhi Golf Club, but they didn’t allow outsiders. Long story short, I made him my caddy, got him into a junior training program, played in Singapore, and won a set of Callaway X12s... I gave those to him, and he went on to become the top sub-junior, top junior, top men’s amateur. Soon, at the age of 19, he bought two DLF flats and a Mercedes-Benz for himself,” he chuckles, noting how his protégé shot into stardom seemingly overnight. “I realised that there must be more kids like him, so I got together a few friends with the intention to pool in a few lakhs.”  

The scouting process is relatively straightforward. Apart from coach/golfer recommendations and pure merit recruits, Luthra’s team conducts talent hunts every few years across four clubs representing the North, East, West and South of India, picking up batches of golfers-in-training. Those with annual household incomes of under 5 lakh are taken on pro bono — an endeavour that cost TGF’s last 2022 effort over a crore for the initial batch of 135 children, and an extra 3-4 lakh for each of the final 18 who were marked as latent golf talents.   

The project has garnered serious national acclaim across the last two decades, having been awarded the Rashtriya Khel Protsahan Puruskar from ex-President Pranab Mukherjee, as well as a bevy of silverware for its alumni. Ashok Kumar and Harinder Gupta have been mainstays on the Indian circuit since the early 2000s. Newer talents like Honey Baisoya and Manu Gandas have emerged in the mid-2010s, marking their territory with significant wins and competitive performances, while Shubham Jaglan, transitioning from a junior golf sensation, illustrates the depth and future of Indian golf.  

Tees and Tribulations  

“Paaji has been with us since the beginning,” says Luthra as we approach Dev’s next shot — a 6-yard putt surrounded by an aggressive set of bunkers. Cheekily pocketing the ball with a ‘mulligan’ — a free swing — he represents an essential part of the democratisation of golf; assisting with promotions, sponsorships and whatever else the foundation needs. “The work he’s done is unbelievable,” notes Dev after the day’s golfing was done. “When we were growing up, a lot of people helped me to reach where I am today. We need people like him who sacrifice their own lives to give an opportunity to youngsters. If you’re working hard and you get some respect and love, himmat badh jaati hai.”  

Dev’s words ring true for every golfer in the country with dreams of going pro; but even more so for the least privileged of them. Vipin Dixit — a grizzled caddy-turned-coach who runs a grassroots-level academy out of Punjab — knows this all too well. “All of them are from poor households”, reflects Dixit, who has been involved with the sport for over 33 years. “Many of them live in 10 square foot homes, where both parents are working. I would explain to the parents about what golf is, and that we’d be training the kids free of cost. I began the initiative back in 2021, and Luthra ji found us six months later. TGF offered to give our kids equipment — after some talks, we were invited to Gurgaon, where they got the first chance to play on an actual course during a 5-day event.” 

“The [kids] scored about 106 during this first experience on-course. Each day their scores improved, and by the end of the event, they stood third,” beams Dixit, fondly recalling how his students borrowed proper gear and shared it amongst themselves before bagging the bronze. Luthra, impressed, sent over several training kits and six full sets of golf clubs to Dixit, who continues to use them today. Despite this, it still remains an uphill battle for the kids and those supporting them — golf, unlike cricket or football, cannot be played in gullies and fields. As a result, many grassroots players find themselves rubbing shoulders with wealthy amateurs at India’s golf clubs. It’s a portrait of India’s never-ending tale of systemic inequality; one that I find difficult to broach with the kids. For the most part, they seem delighted to experience the game in finer conditions than back home. When I ask Dixit about this, he stares briefly into the distance, taking in the quickly dimming Delhi sunset.  

“If there’s one thing I’ve taught the kids,” he says, “it’s to never ask for anything from anyone. I urge them to remember whatever they’ve experienced while playing or practising and make it part of their prayers. I believe a lot in God, and that he helps us. There are a lot of differences between children from the city and children from villages; whether it's how they speak, their attitude... golf has now entrenched itself in the minds of these kids — golf ke liye marna hai, jeena bhi hai. Kuch bhi ho, golf khelna hai. I just tell my kids to be humble. Ego and pride shouldn’t find a place in their hearts. Just take what you have — your talent — and God will do the rest.”  

For now, the closest thing to divine intervention that India’s golfing platforms can expect is an awakened government push for the sport. “It has to be an intervention, a public-private partnership,” concludes Luthra. According to him, making India a desirable golfing destination on the global map is the goal; one that will go nowhere if private ventures such as TGF and the DLF golf academy and club are left without the ability to tap into India’s unique value as a world heritage centre; something that requires government support. “Look at our temples, our monuments,” says Luthra as we pass under the shadow of one of the course’s landmarks — a tomb erected by the eponymous Lodhi Dynasty, around half a millennia ago. “Our heritage is so rich and so fascinating. We need to use it to our advantage. Khelo India, Ayushman Bharat are all very good... but what we lack is the implementation. There should be consequences for not giving players their dues on time; a change is required from the ground up.”  

Golf in India isn't just playing the long game—it's setting the pace for a legacy that spans lifetimes. Dev’s own caddy — a bidi-puffing, wisecracking old man who’s a character all to himself —speaks of how across decades, he’s seen clubs now reach to the point of overflowing, as amateurs sign up en masse to play a few holes. Luthra's words resonate deeper. “Golf is the only game you can play until you’re even 90,” he says, highlighting not just a sport, but a way of life that embraces the great outdoors and the art of connection. “Even if you can’t walk, you have carts. No other sport gives you the pleasure of taking in the outdoors this way. It’s perfect for networking too. Where else will you have five hours of a guy’s attention (laughs) — golf tells you a lot about who you’re playing with. You get to know the whole nine yards. Trust me.” In the heart of India, golf is more than a game—it's a journey of historic import, social evolution, and for some, a rolling, green horizon full of opportunity.