Exclusive: 'You have to miss to shoot perfectly’, says India’s new shooting star Ananya Naidu

There’s a certain stillness to Ananya Naidu, even in photographs. In pictures from her national championship win or training sessions in Pune, she’s rarely smiling wide or striking triumphant poses. Instead, she’s steady—eyes calm, shoulders grounded, and that familiar shooting stance: both feet planted, left hand under the rifle, right index finger poised with surgical patience. It’s a face that doesn’t scream for attention, yet demands it. A presence that doesn’t command the room but calibrates it.

At just 22, Ananya carries the kind of quiet intensity that doesn’t announce greatness—but becomes unmistakable when you watch closely. This June, at the ISSF World Cup in Munich, that stillness arrived on the global stage. Ananya spoke to WION exclusively before the ISSF World Cup 2025 in Munich. In her debut, Ananya Naidu shot a solid 632.4 to finish 13th in women’s 10m air rifle event.

Humble beginnings

Born and raised in Nagpur, Ananya doesn’t come from a lineage of shooters. Nor was she surrounded by the typical machinery that churns out athletes in India—no sporting scholarships, no federation backing in the early days, no early spotlight. What she had instead was an unlikely blend of stillness and ambition. “I wasn’t even sure I’d stick with shooting initially,” she said in a soft, almost amused tone. “It just… kept pulling me back.”

The shooting range became her sanctuary—an escape from the chaos outside, and later, a mirror for her inner discipline. For hours, she would practice in near silence, tuning her body and mind to the microscopic calibrations required by a sport that measures success in millimeters. “Shooting teaches you more about yourself than anything else,” she said, “especially when you’re missing the target.”

Ananya didn’t always want to be a shooter. Her early interests lay elsewhere — in academics, modelling, and Bharatanatyam. “I did classical dancing for six years,” she says. “My father wanted me to become a model. But my mother — who was a sportsperson herself and even played for India — had other plans.”

After her father passed away, her mother nudged her toward shooting, taking her to a nearby range in Nagpur. “I was 17 or 18. And I absolutely loved it from the moment I fired my first shot. I think you don’t choose shooting — shooting chooses you.”

A dream called INDIA

“I got the jersey yesterday,” she said in a soft voice, almost as if reliving it in real-time. “I was in tears. This was nine years of literal blood, sweat and tears.” Ananya Naidu’s path to India’s shooting team wasn’t meteoric. It was quiet, long, and brutally consistent. There were no early junior world medals, no overnight social media fame, no branded sponsorship deals. Instead, it was a decade of patient practice—from Nagpur’s modest shooting ranges to Pune’s elite centres, guided by her mother and later mentored by former Olympian Anjali Bhagwat.

Her breakthrough came in 2024 with a stunning national gold in the 10 m air rifle event in Bhopal, where she edged past veterans with a monumental 252.5 final score. “People think these things happen suddenly,” she said. “But for me, this was years in the making. It was a long wait—but I always knew I’d get here.”

Breaking through COVID

2020 wasn’t kind to Indian athletes—and for Ananya, it was a near-breaking point. “I hit rock bottom,” she said. “I genuinely thought I’d never make it.” Post-COVID, rankings slipped. Training halted. Self-doubt crept in. She wasn’t a junior anymore, and new, younger talents were emerging. But that’s when her support system stepped in. Her mother doubled down. And in Pune, Anjali Bhagwat spotted the spark that even Ananya had momentarily forgotten.

“She changed my mindset,” Ananya said. “She helped me believe again.” By late 2023, the results followed. Consistent showings at nationals, back-to-back top trial scores, and finally, the national gold that catapulted her into India’s senior squad.

Her entry into competitive shooting was gradual. She wasn’t a prodigy splashed across newspapers in her teens. There were no special coaches, no foreign trips, no brand deals. But there was commitment.

“There were months when I had to shoot on borrowed equipment,” she admits. “I remember fixing my own pellets at times, because I couldn’t afford the good ones. But I didn’t care. I just wanted to shoot.” Her parents backed her quietly. There was no pressure, no grand expectations. Just faith. “They let me grow at my pace,” she says, “and that’s what made all the difference.”

Between 2020 and 2023, Ananya’s name began surfacing in national circuits. Small mentions in press releases, occasional medals in zonal championships. Nothing flashy—but every competition added a layer to her growth. She wasn’t just improving her aim. She was toughening her mind. “Shooting is 80% mental,” she says. “You can be the best technically, but if your mind shakes, you’re done.”

She started training not just with coaches, but with herself. She’d meditate before matches. Practice with distractions playing in the background to simulate pressure. And perhaps most critically, she learned to lose without spiraling. “You have to shoot a 9 to know how to shoot a 10. You have to miss a final to know how to enter one.”

Munich: Arrival in silence

There was no media build-up, no frenzy, when Ananya Naidu was selected for the ISSF World Cup in Munich. But for her, this was a pilgrimage. It was her first major international event. Her first time wearing the Indian jersey on the world stage. And still—true to form—she didn’t dramatise it.

“I wasn’t nervous,” she says. “I was… aware. Like everything in my body was awake, but calm.”

In Munich, she shot shoulder to shoulder with the best in the world. Olympians. World record holders. Athletes with sponsors, entourages, and years of global experience. She had none of that. But she had her breath. Her poise. Her laser focus.

“I didn’t expect to win,” she says, “but I expected to learn.” She did both. While she didn’t make the podium, her scores held their own. More importantly, her presence was noted. Coaches, journalists, even foreign shooters took notice of the Indian girl who didn’t flinch, didn’t chatter, didn’t chase the camera—but quietly delivered when it mattered.

Her mother's dream

For Ananya, the dream is deeply personal — not just hers, but her mother’s too. “My mother had to quit her sporting career due to financial issues. Now, in a way, I’m fulfilling both our dreams.” The pride was mutual when she wore the India jersey for the first time. “We had a whole video call with my coach and mom. Everyone was emotional. My mom saw me wear the jersey and she had tears in her eyes. It’s the best feeling ever — to wear the tricolour on your chest.”

Role models

Growing up, Ananya looked up to shooters like Ila, Arjun, Mehuli, and Manu Bhaker. “I remember when Arjun won the World Cup, I was just one year into shooting. I said to myself — I want to be this person.”

Now, in an inspiring full-circle moment, she’s not only sharing the range with her idols — she’s competing alongside them. “We’ve become close friends. They’ve guided me, and also treated me like one of their own.”

Shooting League of India

Ananya believes the arrival of Shooting League of India has come at just the right time. “Because of Olympic medals and social media, shooting is finally getting attention,” she says. “This is the perfect time for Shooting League of India. It’s helping the sport grow.”

But she is also candid about the dark underbelly of the system. “I got scammed a lot when I started. Shooting is expensive, and some coaches treat it like a business instead of a sport,” she explains. “There are thousands of so-called coaches, but many don’t even know the basics. It’s essential to do certified courses and approach the sport with honesty.” She feels that more grassroots awareness and regulation is necessary, especially in semi-urban and rural areas. “Nagpur is not completely urban. Talent is everywhere — but opportunity is not.”

Ananya Naidu may not raise her voice. But in the measured rhythm of her breath and the sharp clarity of her shots, she’s making herself heard—loud and clear.