By Monojit Mandal
There are moments in a young footballer’s life that strike like a bolt of lightning—bright, blinding, unforgettable. For Ronney Kharbudon, that moment arrived the night he stepped onto the pitch to face Al-Nassr, one of Asia’s modern giants.
The roar of the crowd, the glint of the floodlights, the presence of world-renowned stars on the opposite half—everything merged into an experience that changed something within him.
“Playing against Al-Nassr was special,” he says, not with awe but with a determined calm, as if replaying the speed of their transitions and the strength of their duels in his mind. It was the kind of match that doesn’t just test you; it sharpens you. “Games like that make you grow. Their speed, their decision-making—it was on another level.”
And just like that, the boy from Shillong had measured himself against some of the best in the continent.
Yet, what makes Ronney’s journey remarkable isn’t that one night. It is everything that led him there.
He grew quietly through Meghalaya’s footballing spine—Langsning first, then SAI Guwahati, before Shillong Lajong moulded him into a professional. Those were years carved with patience, discipline, and silent graft. “Everything I am today started from those foundations,” he reflects, almost with gratitude. Langsning gave him fire, SAI gave him structure, and Lajong gave him purpose.
The step that followed was bold. Leaving the comfort of home and the warmth of Lajong’s passionate terraces, he moved to FC Goa—a club that demands excellence every single day. The transition was steep, but he embraced it. “The shift has been big but positive,” he explains. “The people here were unbelievable—the love, the support… and the group, from staff to players, were always ready to help.”
There is a sincerity in the way he speaks of Goa, almost as if he recognises the environment as a place where his next leap will come from.
And while the league and the Super Cup offer their own intensity, it was the AFC Champions League 2 that truly expanded his horizons. It prepared him for nights like the one against Al-Nassr, where the quality of opposition pushes you to the edge of your ability. The experience left him hungrier, sharper, and more aware of the distance he still wants to travel.
But football, for Ronney, is not merely personal ambition—it is also rooted deeply in home.
Shillong shaped him. Meghalaya inspired him. And he carries both proudly.
“Football is in the air there,” he says with a soft smile. “When you grow up watching people play with so much passion in every village and in the city, it pushes you to dream big.”
Yet, he is honest about the gaps—exposure, structured pathways, regular high-level competition. “If young players get the right coaching and more tournaments, Meghalaya can produce national-level players every year,” he insists. It is both a belief and a challenge thrown at the system.
At FC Goa, the demands are relentless. Their tactical philosophy is sharp, defined, unforgiving. Ronney has had to adjust, adapt, and evolve. Every training session tests his discipline; every match sharpens his instincts. The expectations are heavy, but he carries them lightly. “I try to stay grounded. I remind myself I’m still young. There’s so much more to learn.”
He speaks of Indian football with the same clarity. He sees its progress—better infrastructure, better opportunities—but he also sees its inconsistencies. Long-term planning, youth development, stability. These, he believes, will decide how far the country can climb.
And as for the national team?
He doesn’t hide the dream. Nor does he dramatise it.
Like every young footballer, he wants to wear the India jersey. But he refuses to be in a hurry. “It comes with hard work, consistency, and patience,” he says. Faith guides him, discipline steadies him. “If I give my best for the club, the bigger opportunities will come at the right time.”
For now, Ronney Kharbudon stands at the threshold of something promising. He has tasted the highest level, stared down world-class players, and walked off the pitch knowing he belonged. The experience against Al-Nassr was special—yes. But perhaps the most special part of that night was not the opposition; it was the quiet realisation that this 22-year-old from Shillong is just getting started.
And if his journey so far is any indication, the road ahead will be anything but ordinary.
