Meet the teen powerlifting duo taking on the world
Kasha Sachdev, 15, started powerlifting at the age of eight and 13-year-old Noa Eappen was inspired to join her when she was 10
By Asjad NazirJun 01, 2023
Two young teenage girls with astounding strength can likely lift more than you.
Kasha Sachdev, 15, started powerlifting at the age of eight and 13-year-old Noa Eappen was inspired to join her when she was 10. The firm friends, trained by Sachdev’s professional power lifter and body builder father Nicholai Sachdev, have won multiple gold medals picking up heavy weights, along with becoming strong role models. Their achievements have included setting world records.
The Mumbai-based girls are looking forward to representing India for the first time internationally at the WPC-Powerlifting Open European Championship in June 2023. Eastern Eye caught up with the great symbols of girl power to discuss their weightlifting journey.
Kasha Sachdev in action at the WPC Nationals in Bengaluru
Kasha, could you tell us what inspired you to start powerlifting?
Kasha: I had watched my father Nicholai Sachdev lift and strive for strength (and inherently, perfection) in the gym from a young age. I had the condition Genu Valgum, more commonly known as ‘knock knees’ and was put through two corrective surgeries for it. Physiotherapy and occupational therapy had been medically prescribed to me for rehabilitation, but my father, after copious amounts of research, thought it a better idea to train me in the gym.
How did you start learning to lift weight as an eight-year old?
Kasha: I started with simple movements, slowly progressing onto the three fundamental powerlifting movements, the bench press, squat, and deadlift. I progressively increased the weight and subsequently my strength. This, over the course of a few years, fixed my knees and developed my passion for powerlifting. It instilled my belief that everything happens for a reason; if it weren’t for my knee condition, it’s doubtful I would have taken up this fantastic sport of powerlifting.
Noa, what was the first thing that you liked about powerlifting?
Noa: The first thing I liked about powerlifting was how it made me feel. Powerlifting empowered me to know that I’m not like every other girl, but a strong teenager in a male-dominated sport, who can inspire other women to be strong and tough.
When did it become a passion?
Noa: When I first started powerlifting, I wasn’t sure if this is something I’d like to take up professionally. Slowly I realised the sport requires physical strength, but also requires mental will. I gradually began to hit bigger numbers and was hooked sooner than I thought. It made me happy to just be under the bar and push as hard as I could.
Noa Eappen in action at the WPC Nationals in Bengaluru
What has been your most memorable moment in powerlifting?
Noa: My most memorable moment has been winning three golds at the WPC Nationals in Bangalore. I was excited to win my first medal, but was even more thrilled as Kasha, who is like an older sister to me, also won gold in all three categories. We were both ecstatic for each other.
Kasha: Powerlifting, in my opinion, is very rewarding. I feel grateful just waking up feeling strong every day, seeing my lifts go up every week. All the victories in competition and various achievements are a reminder of all the hard work and dedication we put into training. That hard work gifts us moments we will never forget.
You train together in the gym. How much do you both motivate one another?
Noa: Kasha and I are like sisters, so we always have each other’s back. We push each other, but also cry together when we miss big lifts. When I lift, the loudest voice I hear is hers. I draw a lot of strength from her motivation.
How do you balance training with school?
Kasha: I train for a couple of hours, five to six times a week at 6.30am before school, and do cardio after school for an hour, alongside studying, tutoring, other extracurriculars, assignments and school in general. I manage the balance, but it does get tough sometimes. I try to schedule everything down to the minute, which helps me get a better hold on the tasks at hand.
How does it feel being stronger than your schoolmates, including boys?
Kasha: It now feels more normal. I’m very proud of those around me for normalising women empowerment, especially in fields where it was a social anomaly to have a woman contestant, in strength sports like powerlifting. This will, of course, be a long-lived fight for equal representation but it’s nice to see that other students aren’t shocked by a young woman competing in powerlifting and being relatively stronger than them.
What are your future hopes in powerlifting?
Noa: I don’t know how long I will be powerlifting professionally, but before that time comes, I have many more medals to win and competitors to beat. Right now, I am focused on competing internationally. I have the WPC European Powerlifting meet in Kyrgyzstan in June, where I hope to set a new world record in my weight category.
Powerlifting requires dedication. What is the secret of remaining motivated?
Kasha: To stay motivated, I try to maintain short-term goals, either with the weight I lift, or certain muscles I want to grow or strengthen. This gives me clarity and an immediate sense of success, which is so rewarding. Consistency and well-earned rests keep me motivated through months of long hours in the gym.
Why do you love powerlifting?
Noa: I love powerlifting because of the confidence I have gained through the process. It made me comfortable in my own skin. I’ve learned the value of discipline and drive. It has taught me that perseverance, hard work, grit, and regime will always pay off.
Kasha: It’s been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. I love it for the challenges - powerlifting calls for physical and mental strength, endurance, and skill. I love the competitive spirit and sense of belonging powerlifting gives me. It makes me feel confident, beautiful, and strong.
Jay's grandma’s popcorn from Gujarat is now selling out everywhere.
Ditched the influencer route and began posting hilarious videos online.
Available in Sweet Chai and Spicy Masala, all vegan and gluten-free
Jayspent 18 months on a list. Thousands of names. Influencers with follower counts that looked like phone numbers. He was going to launch his grandmother's popcorn the right way: send free bags, wait for posts, pray for traction. That's the playbook, right? That's what you do when you're a nobody selling something nobody asked for.
Then one interaction made him snap. The entitlement. The self-importance. The way some food blogger treated his family's recipe like a favour they were doing him. He looked at his spreadsheet. Closed it. Picked up his phone and decided to burn it all down.
Now he makes videos mocking the same people he was going to beg for help. Influencers weeping over the wrong luxury car. Creators demanding payment for chewing food on camera. Someone having a breakdown about ice cubes. And guess what? The internet ate it up. His popcorn keeps selling out. And from Gujarat, his grandmother's 60-year-old recipe is now moving units because her grandson got mad enough to be funny about it.
Jay’s grandma’s popcorn from Gujarat is now selling out everywhere Instagram/daadisnacks
The kitchen story
Daadi means grandmother in Hindi. Jay's daadi came to America from Gujarat decades ago. Every weekend, she made popcorn with the spices she grew up with, including cardamom, cinnamon, and chilli mixes. It was her way of keeping home close while living somewhere that didn't taste like it.
Jay wanted that in stores. Wanted brown faces in the snack aisle. It didn’t happen overnight. It took a couple of years to get from a family recipe to something they could actually sell. Everyone pitched in, including his grandmom, uncle, mum. The spices come from small local farmers. There are just two flavours for now, Sweet Chai and Spicy Masala. It’s all vegan and gluten-free, packed in bright bags that instantly feel South Asian.
The videos don't look like marketing. They look like someone venting at 11 PM after scrolling too long. He nails the nasal influencer voice. The fake sympathy. “I can’t believe this,” he says in that exaggerated influencer tone, “they gave me the cheaper car, only eighty grand instead of one-twenty.” That clip alone blew up, pulling in close to nine million views.
Most people don't know they're watching a snack brand. They think it's social commentary. Jay never calls himself an influencer. He says he’s a creator, period. There’s a difference, and he makes sure people know it. His TikTok has around three hundred thousand followers, Instagram about half that. The comments read like a sigh of relief, people fed up with fake polish, finally hearing someone say what everyone else was thinking.
This fits into something called deinfluencing; people pushing back against the buy-everything-trust-nobody cycle. But Jay's version has teeth. He's naming names, calling out the economics. Big venture money flows to chains with good lighting. Family businesses with actual stories get ignored because their content isn't slick enough.
Jay watched his New York neighbourhood change. Chains moved in. Influencers posted about places that had funding and were aesthetic. The old spots, the family ones, got left behind. His videos are about that gap. The erosion of local culture by money and aesthetics.
"Big chains and VC-funded businesses are promoted at the expense of local ones," he said. His content doesn't just roast influencers. It promotes other small food makers who can't afford to play the game. He positions Daadi as a defender of something real against something plastic.
And it's working. Not just philosophically. Financially. The videos drive traffic. People click through, try the popcorn, come back. The company can't keep stock. That's the proof.
Daadi popcorn features authentic Gujarat flavours like Sweet Chai and Spicy Masala, all vegan and gluten-free Daadi Snacks
The blowback
People unfollow because they think he's too harsh. Jay's take: "I would argue I need to be meaner."
In May, he posted that he's not chasing content creation money like most people at his follower count. "I post to speak my mind and help my family's snack biz." That's a different model. Most brands pay influencers to make everything look perfect. They chase viral polish, and Jay does the opposite. In fact, he weaponises rawness and treats criticism like a product feature.
The internet mostly backs him. Reddit threads light up with support. One commenter was "toxic influencers choking on their matcha lattes searching their Balenciaga bags." Another: "Influencers are boring and unoriginal and can get bent." The anger is shared. Jay simply gave it a microphone and a snack to buy.
Jay's success says something about where things are going. People are done with curated perfection. They can smell the artificiality now. They respond to brands that feel like humans rather than committees. Daadi doesn't sell aspiration. Doesn't sell a lifestyle. Sells popcorn and a point of view.
The quality matters, including the spices, the sourcing, and the family behind it. But the edge matters too. He’s not afraid to say what most brands tiptoe around. “We just show who we are,” Jay says. “No pretending, no gloss. People can feel that and that’s when they reach for the popcorn.”
Most small businesses can't afford to play the traditional game. Can't pay influencers. Can't hire agencies. Can't fake their way into feeds. Maybe they don't need to. Maybe honesty and humour can cut through if they're sharp enough. If the product backs it up. If the story is real and the person telling it isn't trying to sound like a PR script.
This started with a list Jay didn't use. The business took off the moment he stopped trying to play by the usual rules and started speaking his mind. Turns out, honesty sells. And yes, the popcorn really does taste good.
Daadi Snacks merch dropInstagram/daadisnacks
The question is whether this scales. Whether other small businesses watch this and realise they don't need to beg for attention from people who don't care. Right now, Daadi keeps selling out. People keep watching. The grandmother's recipe that was supposed to need influencer approval is doing fine without it. Better than fine. Turns out the most effective marketing strategy might just be giving a damn and not being afraid to show it.
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