Every evening, the ground in Valluvar Nagar in Sainikpuri, Telangana, fills up with nearly 90 boys chasing a football. But look closer, and you will spot seven to ten girls among them, holding their own on a field that once belonged only to the boys.
This Tamil-speaking pocket of Secunderabad has earned itself a nickname over the decades: ‘Mini Brazil’. During every FIFA World Cup, its lanes are lined with flags of Brazil, Argentina and Portugal, and giant cutouts of football stars appear outside homes.
But the real story of Mini Brazil is not about the World Cup. It is about a tradition that has moved from father to son, and coach to student, for nearly 60 years, and is now, slowly, opening up to daughters too.
The girl who refused to leave the sidelines
Before she became a national-level footballer, Ranganathan Keshwardhini, known to everyone as Mary, was a young girl standing at the edge of the ground, hoping someone would let her play. She was often turned away and told there was no place for girls. She kept returning anyway.
When she finally got a chance, she made it count, eventually earning boots, a spot on her district team, and later, a place representing Telangana.
Her parents, a footballer father and a former hockey player mother, backed her despite the financial strain of tournaments and relatives questioning why they sent their daughter to a football ground. Inspired by Cristiano Ronaldo, Mary went on to become one of the locality’s most recognised players, known for her sharp man-marking skills.
A ripple that became a wave
Coach PD Joshua remembers how hard it was to convince families to send their daughters to the ground before Mary proved herself. He personally spoke to her family to win their support, and once results followed, attitudes across the neighbourhood began to shift.
Training continues free of cost in Valluvar Nagar, funded by former players and community elders — while private academies elsewhere charge lakhs of rupees.
Girls who had only watched from the boundary began joining training sessions, slowly building a football culture of their own.
Before the pandemic, around 20 to 22 girls trained regularly in Valluvar Nagar. Training halted during COVID-19, and only seven to ten girls returned once it resumed, as studies and family responsibilities pulled others away.
Those who stayed carry the tradition forward. S Suhana, an eleventh-grade student who currently represents Rangareddy district, says many girls joined only after watching Mary succeed, and she now encourages her own friends to take up the sport.
K Mamtha Ravi, whose two daughters train regularly, believes the sport builds fitness, energy and confidence that extend far beyond the field.
Former player Sherly, who now works at an MNC, says parents began believing their daughters could go far the moment they saw Mary reach the national level.
A six-decade relay
Coach PD Emmanuel describes Valluvar Nagar’s football culture as a relay race that began in the late 1960s and was passed from senior players to younger ones.
What started as informal coaching by former players has grown into a structured training programme run by nine certified coaches. Many locals have built careers through sports quotas after training on this very ground.
Emmanuel says the ground has done more than produce players. Before the football programme grew, several youngsters in the area were vulnerable to drug abuse and other negative influences.
Once they began training regularly, coaches noticed a marked change, with the ground becoming a space where children learnt discipline and spent their time productively.
The road ahead
Training in Valluvar Nagar continues free of cost, funded by former players and community elders who help meet expenses. Access, rather than talent, remains the biggest hurdle for the locality’s young players.
Private academies elsewhere in the city can charge between Rs 2 lakh and Rs 4 lakh, putting them out of reach for most families here.
Opportunities for girls still trail those available to boys, with fewer leagues and tournaments to compete in.
But in Mini Brazil, where an entire community has spent six decades passing football down like an heirloom, the next chapter is already being written, this time, by its daughters.
