Roshni Devi Sangwan walked into our office in a simple blue embroidered suit, with her son Ajay by her side. The wrinkles on her face and fine lines on her hands were the only real markers of her age – 70. In the studio, her son began loading the barbell, two 20-kilo plates on either side. He paused, asking if he should add more. I quickly said no, after all, she would need to lift it multiple times for us to get the perfect shot. Roshni Devi just laughed.

Within minutes, she was effortlessly deadlifting the 40-plus-kilo bar, again and again, without showing the slightest sign of any strain. It took two members of our team just to shift the bar into position, or when we needed to move it around, yet she lifted it as if it weighed nothing. When I insisted she take a break, she smiled and said, “Yeh toh kuch bhi nahi hai. Main toh 105 kilos deadlift karti hoon. Roz.” (This is nothing, I lift 105 kilos, every day.)

For a moment, the camera team and I exchanged glances. Not because of the weight she had just lifted, but because of the ease with which she did it. The quiet confidence. The familiarity. The posture, the readiness, the lifts seem to come to her so naturally. Her strength wasn’t accompanied by grunts or expressions – it wasn’t a spectacle.
For over six decades, Roshni Devi’s world was far removed from cameras, flashes, makeup and interviews. The same hands that now wrap around a barbell once rode horses, kneaded dough, tended buffaloes, and harvested fields.

Hailing from Hisar, Haryana, Roshni grew up in a world where girls weren’t sent to school. They worked in fields, and were then married off in their teens.
“Poori zindagi seva karne mein nikal gaya. Pehle kheto mein kaam, phir shaadi ke baad pati ka seva, phir bachhe ke seva,” she said. (My whole life has been spent in service. First, I worked in the fields, then after marriage, I was devoted to my husband, and then raised kids.)

Roshni’s husband passed away 20 years ago, leaving her to steer the family through years of financial strain. Two of her three children got married, moved out, and moved on with their lives. With age came knee arthritis. The doctor advised physical movement, and exercise. That’s when her youngest son Ajay, a personal trainer and fitness enthusiast, prompted her to try hitting the gym.
For a woman who had lived most of her life behind a ghoonghat, the idea of going to a public gym was not just unfamiliar, it was unthinkable. No woman she knew of her age went to the gym. Her friends whom she attends weekly satsangs, sought permission from their husbands to step out of the house – going to the gym was daunting.

It was almost physically impossible for Roshani to step into a gym. She tried for three days, but each day she returned home mid way. On the third day, her son held her hand and took her in.
She felt out of place. Others wore athletic tank tops, t-shirts and shorts. She’s never worn anything apart from salwar suits. People looked at her inquisitively. The machines and weights were cold, uninviting and foreign to her.

Her son suggested weightlifting to build muscles and strengthen her legs.
She began with the lightest weights. Slowly, patiently, consistently. And today, she deadlifts over 100 kilos.
Her lifting has led to successes she’d never dreamed of. She got to travel by flight for the first time for a shoot, featured in podcasts and shows and inspired youngsters she never thought she’d meet. This is her story – one of grit, strength and never giving up.



