Terbutaline, Smoke and 18 Months of Silence: The 17-Year-Old Indian Swimmer and the Gap at the Asian Games

In a swimming pool, the smell of chlorine clings to your skin like a memory that refuses to leave. Ten years after I stepped away from competitive water, every time I hear the starting beep, I still smell it. And every time I hear that a young swimmer has been erased from the lanes, I remember what it felt like to stand on the starting block, staring at a still surface while knowing there was an ocean of invisible pressure beneath it. This week, a 17-year-old Indian swimmer learned that he had been removed from the national swimming team preparing for the Asian Games and suspended for 18 months after a positive doping test. He has not been formally named, as he is still a minor. But his twin brother — who remains on the Asian Games roster — has unwittingly become the mirror no outlet could avoid. The story unfolds against the backdrop of the 2026 Asian Games in Aichi-Nagoya, Japan, this September. It is a continental gathering of thousands of athletes, and for young swimmers it is the chance to step out of the shadow of national meets and prove themselves against rivals from China, Japan and South Korea. The Swimming Federation of India had invested hope in its younger generation, particularly in a set of twins seen as raw gems. Yet just weeks before the opening ceremony, one of them had to withdraw. He had qualified for two events at the Asian Games. Both slots are now empty. It began in February. The 17-year-old returned a positive test for terbutaline, a beta-2 agonist commonly prescribed for asthma, emphysema, bronchitis and other lung conditions, according to the Mayo Clinic. It is a class of substance on the World Anti-Doping Agency prohibited list during competition because of its respiratory stimulant properties and possible performance-enhancing effects at high doses. Terbutaline is not a hard narcotic or an anabolic steroid; it is a therapeutic drug. But the line between medicine and prohibited substance in elite sport is always thin, and that is where this story becomes complex. According to the Times of India, the swimmer had suffered smoke inhalation — possibly in a fire or domestic accident — and used the medication under a doctor's prescription. He declared the substance on his doping control form, which suggests he never intended to hide it. Crucially, he did not properly obtain a Therapeutic Use Exemption. A TUE allows an athlete to use a prohibited substance for a legitimate medical reason, provided the need is proven and no alternative exists. The missing TUE is what triggered the sanction, even though his motive was not cheating. A standard anti-doping rule violation carries a four-year suspension, reducible to two years if the panel believes the doping was unintentional, with further reductions depending on how reasonable the athlete's explanation is. In this case the panel imposed 18 months — below even the two-year threshold — indicating it accepted the smoke-inhalation explanation and the prescription. This signals that the system can distinguish a cheater from a teenager who was sloppy with paperwork. But 18 months is still 18 months. For a 17-year-old, that is enough time for rivals of the same age to break away and never look back. An expedited hearing was held last week. The national swimming federation had hoped that a dropped case would clear him to race in Japan later this month. That hope did not materialise. His name had already been withdrawn from the Commonwealth Games roster, and then from the Asian Games roster. What adds another layer is the twin detail. Both brothers appear to have represented India at junior international meets, but results reporting often confuses the two due to their similar names, making it hard to separate their achievements. Now that one is suspended and the other remains on the team, that confusion becomes a double tragedy. The one still swimming will compete in the shadow of the other, and every time his name appears on a scoreboard, spectators will wonder: which one is this? Is this the swimmer who was just banned? An identity mix-up that used to be a trivial matter at junior meets has become a scar. India is the largest country in the world by population but not a global sporting superpower. At the 2026 Summer Olympics in Paris, the nation won only six medals, none of them gold. Yet in recent years India has consistently led the world in anti-doping violations, according to WADA and international monitoring reports. This is a paradox worth pausing over. A country that has not won many gold medals nonetheless tops the charts for doping violations. Several explanations are possible. India has a vast population and a fast-developing sports system, meaning more athletes are tested. Domestic testing and oversight have improved, exposing violations that once went unnoticed. And, less discussed, young athletes in developing nations are more vulnerable to prohibited substances due to a lack of anti-doping education, specialist doctors and effective TUE support. In other words, the leading figure may reflect two things at once: weak athlete education and the rise of a tightening surveillance system. A detail worth dissecting: the swimmer declared terbutaline on his doping control form. In the modern anti-doping system, honest declaration is an important mitigating factor, proving the athlete did not try to conceal the substance. But honest declaration does not equal exemption. You still need a valid TUE. Without it, the declaration only reduces the sanction rather than erasing it. Swimming is a sport especially sensitive to TUE issues. Hundreds of swimmers worldwide have asthma — common among people training in humid, chlorinated environments. Many of them legally use inhaled asthma medication. The line between legal inhalers and prohibited substances depends on the drug, the dose, the route and the timing. Some asthma drugs like salbutamol are permitted within dose limits, while others like terbutaline require a TUE. For a young swimmer battling the aftermath of smoke inhalation, a doctor prescribing terbutaline is a medically sound decision. The problem is that it was not documented correctly. This is the blind spot of the system. Anti-doping is designed to protect fairness, but it is also designed by adults, sometimes for adults with full legal, medical and administrative resources. A 17-year-old faces a procedural maze that many adults get lost in. When he stumbles, the system does not distinguish between naive carelessness and sophisticated cheating at the first stage. It simply records a positive result, and from there everything becomes a legal liability. The 18-month ban is an odd number. It is neither four years nor two. It sits between two poles of the system: harsh punishment and conditional mercy. For a young swimmer, 18 months means losing an international season, losing competitive momentum, losing focus. In swimming, an athlete's peak typically arrives between 20 and 26. If someone is banned from 17 to 19, he returns when his peers have travelled a long way ahead. Returning does not mean returning at the top. What about the twin still going to Japan? He will fly to Aichi-Nagoya. He will stand on the block, feeling the eyes of a nation. Competing with an absent twin is a strange experience. You step up, but half of you is not there. You swim faster, but there is no one to share the victory in the way only twins understand. Technically, losing one swimmer from a relay squad can directly affect results. Relays require synchrony in pacing, turn technique and touch timing. If the suspended swimmer was a link in a relay chain, his absence forces a rapid restructuring. Even in individual events, losing two slots is a loss of development opportunity for the entire Indian swimming programme. Watching old footage of junior meets where both brothers competed, what struck me was not a specific result but how result sheets sometimes listed one name as the other. For journalists this is a nightmare. For a specialist like me, it is a lesson in the limits of data. Data does not lie, but it whispers the name of a sleeping star — and sometimes it whispers the wrong name of someone who never wanted to be called at all. One question deserves to be asked: should this swimmer be allowed to compete immediately if the panel confirms there was no intent to cheat? The system says no. He must still serve the ban. This is a hard principle maintained to preserve deterrence. But it also raises the question of whether that hard principle suits minors. A 17-year-old is not yet old enough to sign a representation contract; why should he bear full responsibility for a medical procedure he was not trained to understand? Historically, some swimmers banned for asthma-medication positives have returned stronger. Others vanished from the lanes and never came back. The ones who returned usually had a solid support system — family, federation, doctors, lawyers. The ones who disappeared often fought alone. Will this 17-year-old have that system? The Indian federation has shown it wants to protect him by withdrawing his name from two major rosters. But protecting by withdrawal is not the same as arming him with knowledge beforehand. He had qualified for two Asian Games events. To do that at 17, against rivals from China and Japan, you must be genuinely talented. Swimming at the elite level does not hand out Asian Games slots by luck. Yet one test result, one missing TUE form, erased both. This is the administrative cruelty of modern sport. India has long lagged in medals but leads in anti-doping violations. Those two facts may be connected. When a country lacks the resources to invest in doctors, nutritionists and legal advisers for athletes, administrative errors happen more often, producing more violations, more sanctions, and ultimately more lost talent. India does not lack talent. It lacks a system. While waiting for systems to change, there is something young athletes can do now: learn anti-doping rules before learning advanced stroke technique. It sounds dry. But for a 17-year-old who just lost two Asian Games slots over a missing form, it is the most practical advice there is. Technique helps you swim fast. Understanding the rules helps you stay eligible to swim. When the twin stands on the block in Aichi-Nagoya and the starting beep sounds, he will plunge into the water. And perhaps in that water he will feel the presence of another — an absent brother, half of himself, a silhouette swimming alongside in his mind. Sport can be beautiful in ways no scoreboard captures, and brutal in ways no sanction fully describes. This week, my stopwatch is frozen at a moment it cannot measure: the moment a young talent was removed from the lanes not because he swam slowly, but because one piece of paper was missing.