For years, they were poster boys of cross-border camaraderie. A photo here, a handshake there, and a shared love for the javelin. But with the Paris sky behind him and the Pahalgam tragedy still fresh at home, Neeraj Chopra has now apparently drawn a line.
“We were never really close friends,” said the Indian Olympic and world champion. And just like that, the myth of a subcontinental brotherhood in spikes and track gear was gently dismantled.
The timing was crucial. Chopra, preparing for his Diamond League appearance, addressed the media for the first time since being criticised for inviting Pakistan’s Arshad Nadeem to the now-postponed Neeraj Chopra Classic in Bengaluru.
That invitation, extended before the Pahalgam terror attack that killed 26 civilians had been met with venom online. Chopra’s patriotism, and even his family, were targeted.
The abuse cut deep. But Chopra chose dignity.
“I don't have a very strong relationship with Nadeem. We were never really close friends,” he repeated, without bitterness. “But if someone speaks respectfully to me, I always respond the same way.”
This wasn’t the first time Chopra had to play diplomat in a sporting jersey. After the Tokyo Olympics, where he won gold and Nadeem finished fifth, their camaraderie made headlines.
Once photographed together
They were photographed together again in Budapest last year, after the World Championships, with Nadeem who lacked a Pakistani flag, joining Chopra in front of the Indian tricolour. It was a symbolic moment. Too symbolic, perhaps.
Nadeem's 'Pakistan Zindabad' X post
The façade began to falter when Nadeem posted “Pakistan Zindabad” on X (formerly Twitter), shortly after the Pahalgam killings. Maybe a patriotic gesture on his part, but one that inflamed Indian social media against Chopra. It didn’t help that Pakistani media had long amplified the Chopra-Nadeem storyline, with Nadeem’s mother once calling Neeraj “like my son”.
Back home, Neeraj’s own mother, Saroj Devi, had echoed that sentiment after Nadeem’s Olympic triumph in Paris, calling the Pakistani “also my child”. In any other time, such warmth might have been celebrated. Post-Pahalgam, it turned controversial.
NC Classic 'apolitical'
Chopra tried to set the record straight, repeatedly. The NC Classic invite had gone out a day before the attack. The meet which he insisted was about bringing world-class talent to India or “an apolitical event” meant to elevate Indian athletics.
But nuance is often the first casualty when nationalism runs high.
“It’s very hurtful when people question your intent, especially when it comes to your country,” Chopra had said earlier. “My country and its interests will always come first.”
Nadeem, for his part, cited a scheduling clash for declining the invitation. Yet his absence from Bengaluru became a footnote in a larger narrative about changing equations.
Chopra’s sporting generosity had never been in doubt. He once advocated publicly for Nadeem to get better equipment, calling it “hard to believe” that a javelin of his stature lacked support.
Tokyo's golden boy
He had defended him at the Tokyo Olympics when footage of Nadeem using Chopra’s javelin stirred controversy. But even those acts, noble as they were, now feel like echoes from a more innocent time.
“In sport, we talk. We compete. We respect each other,” Chopra said. “But this (the current geopolitical temperature) changes things.”
He wasn’t aggressive. He didn’t need to be. A quiet disassociation was enough.
For a while, Chopra and Nadeem had become unlikely avatars of sports diplomacy, two javelin throwers who reminded a bitter region of its shared dreams. That bond, while never as deep as many imagined, had nonetheless become symbolic.
Today, it’s just another casualty in the long, complicated history of India and Pakistan.