ALMATY: Yuki Bhambri’s smile is revealing. It belongs to someone who has learnt to accept what life throws at him, not with resignation, but with the understanding that there is little point railing against what cannot be changed. You work with what you have, make the best of it and move on.
The 34-year-old’s Zen-like equanimity has been forged in the storms he has weathered through much of his adult life. He began the 2026 season with good reason for optimism. Fresh off a first Grand Slam semifinal at the 2025 US Open, alongside close friend Michael Venus, Bhambri carried that momentum into the new year, climbing to a career-high No. 18 in the rankings in February.
Then tennis did what life so often does, complicate plans. An elbow injury that required surgery kept Venus off the Tour, and when the New Zealander returned in March, the pair needed time to find their stride again. In August, at Winston-Salem, Bhambri injured his quad and he’s yet to regain full fitness.
“That’s tennis for you,” Bhambri told TOI at the Almaty Arena. “That's why you have to respect players who are able to stay on Tour for so long.
It's so difficult to do it year after year, to maintain a ranking, keep improving, keep playing and chasing those Grand Slams and Masters titles.”
For Bhambri the injury has meant a step back, his ranking has slipped to No. 46.
He’s playing the Almaty Open this week with American Ryan Seggerman, the duo are seeded four. Next he plays a Challenger in Seoul and will finish the season at the Paris Masters.
“I've been in these situations before because of injuries, where you play for a year, a year and a half, and then have to stop,” he says. “But this time it's a little different. I've been able to play, but I haven't performed exactly as I would have liked. So it's been a learning curve, almost a fresh start to get back to competing for important events.”
Starting over is a familiar exercise for Bhambri. Once Indian tennis's teenage prodigy, he won the Australian Open junior title at 16, became the junior world No. 1 and claimed a silver medal at the Youth Olympics. After he turned pro his singles journey was repeatedly interrupted by tendonitis in both knees.
Some three years ago, he switched his focus to doubles.
The
Asian Games was a goal this year and Bhambri and Dhakshineswar Suresh were billed medal prospects. Bhambri’s movement was hampered by injury, and the pair bowed out in the quarterfinals.
“It's disappointing how it panned out,” he says, a flicker of a smile on his face.
Bhambri knows what an Asian Games medal feels like. At the 2014 Asian Games, he won two bronze medals, one in singles and the other in doubles.
“I feel very fortunate that I did it a long time ago,” he says of the medals. “Hopefully, I'll get another chance four years down the line to improve on that.”
There is a telling distinction in the way Bhambri talks about his career. He does not pretend that losing is easy, or that ambition has somehow evaporated with experience. He still wants to win, climb the rankings and compete at the biggest tournaments. But the years spent watching his career stall because his body was wounded may have altered his perspective.
“Every time I'm playing, it's almost a win for me,” he says, his eyes following the players around him at the Almaty Arena. “Somewhere at the back of my mind, there's gratitude that I'm still here, still competing. You want to win everything, of course, but a small part of me considers just being here, competing at these events, a little win in itself.”
Was there anger before the gratitude?
“I've had different setbacks, but a lot of them have been about not being able to play,” he said. “Maybe it goes back to growing up in a country where a lot of these things weren't accessible. I was always handed down racquets from my sisters. You learnt quite early that if you broke one, you couldn't necessarily expect to get another. So breaking racquets or getting angry on court wasn't really an option, because you might not have anything to play with.
Maybe some of that has stayed with me.”
Perhaps that is where Bhambri's composure is tethered, not in some grand philosophy of sport or life, but in the practical understanding that what you have is worth looking after. The racquet had to last. The opportunity to play could not be taken for granted.
Years later, the stakes are different, the racquets are his own and the ambitions considerably larger. Yet the instinct to work with what is in front of him remains. Injuries may have cost him time, momentum and ranking points, even switching lanes, from singles to doubles, but it has not diluted the desire to compete.