The first time I heard the word “pickleball”, it was via a vague press release sometime during the early pandemic. I remember raising an eyebrow at the name—it sounded more like a snack than a sport. The release had come from the All India Pickleball Association, which, at the time, struck me as one of those semiformal bodies that quietly persist in the background of Indian sport, sending out emails no one replies to. I was intrigued, sure, but not quite compelled. My own racquet, acquired during one of my shortlived attempts to get into tennis, was gathering dust somewhere in the back of a cupboard, a relic of yet another resolution abandoned.
I didn’t end up seeking pickleball out. It arrived on its own timeline, through a slow wave of court launches, WhatsApp invites, and that very urban phenomenon of something becoming inescapable before it even earns your full attention. It was around 2023 when I played my first game—doubles, early morning, South Mumbai. Our lineup included a sleep-deprived journalist (me), a cinematographer, a marketing executive, and an early years educator. None of us were particularly athletic, but within fifteen minutes we were arguing about line calls and silently counting calories burned. The game was easy to pick up, quick to reward, and most importantly, designed to accommodate wildly different fitness levels without making anyone feel left behind. We had such a good time, in fact, that we even felt pumped enough to ditch the rickshaws and trek through Andheri West’s pockmarked post-rain terrain en route to some celebratory dosas and fresh juice—a rare moment of group fitness euphoria that actually survived the cool-down.
These days, I can’t seem to escape it. Even my current sport of choice— wall climbing—overlooks a popular padel court, where the players seem as invested in the post-game hang as the game itself. From my perch above, I’ve overheard business pitches, creative brainstorms, breakup analyses and one particularly heated debate about whether it’s acceptable to ghost someone who’s late to a match. I’ve come to realise that the appeal of pickleball and padel isn’t just about movement—it’s about moment. These aren’t just sports; they’re time-boxed opportunities to socialise, compete lightly, and feel vaguely athletic without the intimidation or gatekeeping that often comes with more established racquet sports.
The New Brunch Club
If the financial logic of building a court is what gets people investing, it’s the social logic of the game that gets people addicted. Unlike tennis, which often rewards raw athleticism and carries an unspoken hierarchy of coaching, gear, and club access, both pickleball and padel are deeply collaborative by design. The courts are smaller, the rallies longer, and the gameplay slower, with room for conversations mid-match and strategy that evolves on the fly. It’s no surprise that the sport has found favour among groups of friends, early-morning regulars, office cliques, and even couples who want something more dynamic than a brunch buffet.
Take Mahesh, a 59-year-old finance executive who first found padel through a friend in his building. Now, he plays every Tuesday and Thursday morning before work. “It’s the only cardio I don’t lie to my cardiologist about,” he told me. “And I get to win points off people half my age. What’s not to love?”
And then there’s Isha, a 24-year-old content strategist who stumbled into the sport after spotting a mixed doubles event on Instagram. “I didn’t grow up playing team sports,” she said. “This is the first time I’ve found something active that doesn’t feel like a punishment.”
The appeal, in other words, is as much about who you play with as how you play. As the founders of homegrown pickleball gear brand FirstEdge put it, players often show up solo, get added to a rotating WhatsApp group, and come away with a paddle, a post-match meal, and three new friends. The barrier to entry is not just skill—it’s vibe. “We’ve seen everyone from 18-year-old college students to 60-year-old recreational athletes play together without feeling like anyone’s slowing the game down,” said Pranav, one of the co-founders. “It’s not just a workout, it’s a weekend ritual.”
That ritual has also found its way into curated experiences and exclusive venues. In South Bombay, a few premium courts now offer not just rentals but wraparound services: smoothies, playlists, personal coaching, in-game photography. Others double as rooftops for boutique gyms or co-working cafes. The entire environment lends itself to a kind of racquet-casual lifestyle—an easy entry point for people who might never call themselves sporty but still want to break a sweat in good company. The result is a scene that feels equal parts social club and fitness trend, with a bit of Instagram-era flair thrown in.
The celebrity interest only fuels this. Samantha Ruth Prabhu, Atlee, and Riteish and Genelia Deshmukh have all invested in pickleball teams or franchises, lending legitimacy and aspirational glow to what was once dismissed as a niche expat sport. As league rosters grow and post-match interviews start to resemble cricket pressers, it’s clear that the sport’s soft power is catching up to its hard numbers.
The Business of Bounce
While its cultural ascent might feel organic, pickleball and padel’s growth has been propelled by cold, hard numbers. For private venue owners and real estate developers alike, the pitch is compelling: these courts are relatively cheap to build, quick to monetise, and adaptable to existing urban infrastructure. According to Mumbai-based Manish Rao of the Global Pickleball Federation, “The construction cost for four courts will come to around Rs 12 lakh. Thus, Rs 15–16 lakh is the maximum investment needed apart from basic infrastructure like portable cabins and washrooms.” Rao estimates that with 4–5 hours of daily occupancy, each court can yield profits of Rs 50,000–75,000 a month—and breakeven happens within the first year.
That kind of math is hard to ignore. Rao adds, “In Mumbai, where space is at a premium, a single tennis court can be converted into multiple pickleball courts, usually measuring 22 x 40 feet, increasing usage and revenue potential.” Delhi–NCR has quietly exploded with nearly 40 padel courts, especially across Gurgaon and Noida, while in Bengaluru, what began as a niche expat activity has gone mainstream. Karnataka now leads national adoption for padel, with local operators treating the sport as both a wellness habit and a scalable business.
Part of this boom stems from how frictionless the sport is to enter. A high-quality starter paddle costs around Rs 2,500, with matches requiring little more than a wiffle ball and a spare 45 minutes. Booking platforms like Hudle have helped formalise the sport’s ecosystem, making it easier than ever to find a match, book a court, or join a league. “There has been a strong uptick in searches, bookings, and demand for both pickleball and padel in the past 12 months,” said Suhail Narain, Hudle’s founder and CEO, who foresees these sports becoming as popular as futsal or turf cricket in the next 3–5 years.
Early adopters like FirstEdge have realised that success lies not just in renting courts, but in designing the entire experience—leagues, gear, meetups, and community stickiness. “If you’re coming in once a week, how do we make sure you come back a second time, a third time?” asked co-founder Sidhant. That focus, they believe, will differentiate long-term players in the space from short-lived pop-ups.
Beyond The Courts
I’ve now watched five different friends fall into the pickle-padel vortex—some for fitness, others for flirtation. And like most things that start in South Bombay and find their way into private stories and post-work plans, the sport is quietly mutating into something more serious. Projects like Via Courtside, a racquet-sport take on the Soho House model, are betting there’s a market for premium memberships, coaching, rooftop matches, art openings, and wellness shots—all under one curated roof.
Right now, you can still show up in sandals, borrow a paddle, and walk away sweaty and grinning. And if your doubles partner also manages your portfolio or shares your dermatologist—well, that’s just good networking.
