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By:

Bhalchandra Chorghade

11 August 2025 at 1:54:18 pm

Applause for Cricket, Silence for Badminton

Mumbai: When Lakshya Sen walked off the court after the final of the All England Badminton Championships, he carried with him the disappointment of another near miss. The Indian shuttler went down in straight games to Lin Chun-Yi, who created history by becoming the first player from Chinese Taipei to lift the prestigious title. But the story of Lakshya Sen’s defeat is not merely about badminton final. It is also about the contrasting way India celebrates its sporting heroes. Had the same...

Applause for Cricket, Silence for Badminton

Mumbai: When Lakshya Sen walked off the court after the final of the All England Badminton Championships, he carried with him the disappointment of another near miss. The Indian shuttler went down in straight games to Lin Chun-Yi, who created history by becoming the first player from Chinese Taipei to lift the prestigious title. But the story of Lakshya Sen’s defeat is not merely about badminton final. It is also about the contrasting way India celebrates its sporting heroes. Had the same narrative unfolded on a cricket field, the reaction would have been dramatically different. In cricket, even defeat often becomes a story of heroism. A hard-fought loss by the Indian team can dominate television debates, fill newspaper columns and trend across social media for days. A player who narrowly misses a milestone is still hailed for his fighting spirit. The nation rallies around its cricketers not only in victory but also in defeat. The narrative quickly shifts from the result to the effort -- the resilience shown, the fight put up, the promise of future triumph. This emotional investment is one of the reasons cricket enjoys unparalleled popularity in India. It has built a culture where players become household names and their performances, good or bad, become part of the national conversation. Badminton Fights Contrast that with what happens in sports like badminton. Reaching the final of the All England Championships is a monumental achievement. The tournament is widely considered badminton’s equivalent of Wimbledon in prestige and tradition. Only the very best players manage to reach its final stages, and doing it twice speaks volumes about Lakshya Sen’s ability and consistency. Yet the reaction in India remained largely subdued. There were congratulatory posts, some headlines acknowledging the effort and brief discussions among badminton enthusiasts. But the level of national engagement never quite matched the magnitude of the achievement. In a cricketing context, reaching such a stage would have triggered days of celebration and analysis. In badminton, it often becomes just another sports update. Long Wait India’s wait for an All England champion continues. The last Indian to win the title was Pullela Gopichand in 2001. Before him, Prakash Padukone had scripted history in 1980. These victories remain among the most significant milestones in Indian badminton. And yet, unlike cricketing triumphs that are frequently revisited and celebrated, such achievements rarely stay in the mainstream sporting conversation for long. Lakshya Sen’s journey to the final should ideally have been viewed as a continuation of that legacy, a reminder that India still possesses the talent to challenge the world’s best in badminton. Instead, it risks fading quickly from public memory. Visibility Gap The difference ultimately comes down to visibility and cultural investment. Cricket in India is not merely a sport; it is an ecosystem built over decades through media attention, sponsorship, and mass emotional attachment. Individual sports, on the other hand, often rely on momentary bursts of recognition, usually during Olympic years or when a medal is won. But consistent performers like Lakshya Sen rarely receive the sustained spotlight that their achievements deserve. This disparity can also influence the next generation. Young athletes are naturally drawn to sports where success brings recognition, financial stability and national fame. When one sport monopolises the spotlight, others struggle to build similar appeal. Beyond Result Lakshya Sen may have finished runner-up again, but his performance at the All England Championship is a reminder that India continues to produce world-class athletes in disciplines beyond cricket. The real issue is not that cricket receives immense attention -- it deserves the admiration it gets. The concern is that athletes from other sports often do not receive comparable appreciation for achievements that are equally significant in their own arenas. If India aspires to become a truly global sporting nation, its applause must grow broader. Sporting pride cannot remain confined to one field. Because somewhere on a badminton court, an athlete like Lakshya Sen is fighting just as hard for the country’s colours as any cricketer on a packed stadium pitch. The only difference is how loudly the nation chooses to cheer.

A Flood of Debt and Despair

Marathwada’s unseasonal floods are colliding with Maharashtra’s fiscal overreach, leaving farmers of the normally parched region stranded between climate and populism.

In the usually parched fields of Marathwada, where drought has long been the farmer’s shadow, calamity has now arrived from the other direction. The last few weeks have seen unseasonal deluges battering the land, washing away homes, livestock and livelihoods. Continuous downpour in a normally arid region has rendered roads impassable as thousands of hectares of farmland lie flattened beneath sheets of water.


Authorities estimate that more than 30,000 hectares of standing crops have been destroyed in the past fortnight alone. Rescue teams slog through sodden hamlets in districts such as Beed, Dharashiv, Solapur and Latur, evacuating families and distributing what relief they can. By some counts, a dozen lives have already been lost.


The Devendra Fadnavis-led Mahayuti government has promised to “clear all the help before Diwali.” But reassurance is cheap. Farmers who have lost everything face a familiar bureaucratic gauntlet of damage assessments, verifications and panchnamas before aid can materialise. Behind the procedural fog lurks a harder question: even if the paperwork is done, can Maharashtra actually afford to deliver?


Debt burden

Once India’s economic powerhouse, Maharashtra now looks precariously leveraged. Its debt burden for 2025-26 is projected at Rs. 9.32 trillion – a figure larger than the GDP of some small countries. The debt is not new, but it has been swollen by populist welfare schemes designed as much to cement political loyalty as to alleviate poverty.


The flagship is the Mukhya Mantri Majhi Ladki Bahin Yojana, which promises a stipend of Rs. 1,500 per month to millions of women. The scheme consumed Rs. 33,433 crore in its first year and has been allocated Rs. 36,000 crore for 2025-26 - roughly 6 percent of the state’s revenue receipts. To keep it afloat, funds have allegedly been redirected from departments such as social justice and tribal welfare even though the government denies this.


The arithmetic is brutal. When a single programme devours such a share of revenue, little fiscal room remains for crisis response. Yet rolling back the scheme is politically suicidal as it has become a cornerstone of the ruling party’s electoral strategy.


The result is an excruciating paradox. As Marathwada drowns, the state’s finances teeter. Farmers must borrow to replant, yet moneylenders will demand repayment on the old loans. Welfare recipients, meanwhile, depend on their modest stipend for food, medicine and school fees. Some urban voices even suggest in whispers that Ladki Bahin beneficiaries might voluntarily surrender a month’s payment so the state can divert funds to relief.


On paper, the logic is seductive: if even 10 percent of recipients opted out, hundreds of crores could be freed. But in reality, the proposal is fraught as many women rely on that stipend for bare survival. Politically, it is even riskier as no government wants to be seen encouraging poor women to “give up” their benefits.


Reduce wastefulness

What, then are the options in front of the Maharashtra government? Firstly, the state must triage its finances. Schemes that are non-essential or wasteful should be paused. Large capital projects, particularly vanity infrastructure ventures, could be deferred and relief and reconstruction of the Marathwada region must take priority.


Second, the state must tap national coffers. The centre can provide supplementary aid, restructure debt, or accelerate loan waivers. In a federal system, Maharashtra should not shoulder this crisis alone. Third, local governance must be mobilised. Panchayats and gram sabhas can help identify the neediest families, oversee distribution, and reduce leakages. Relief disbursed through centralised bureaucracy often evaporates into middlemen. Community-level oversight offers better odds of fairness.


The welfare itself can be made flexible. In flood-hit districts, Ladki Bahin payments could be temporarily converted into food rations, medical support or cash-for-work programmes in reconstruction. The stipend would remain, but in a form more adaptive to disaster.


Finally, transparency is vital. Relief must be audited publicly, with citizen panels and media scrutiny. Maharashtra’s rural poor have endured decades of empty promises. Visible honesty is the only way to rebuild trust.


There is also a longer horizon. This is not the first time Marathwada has been devastated by weather, nor will it be the last. Climate variability is intensifying: prolonged droughts followed by sudden cloudbursts are becoming the new norm. Unless agriculture is made climate-resilient, relief efforts will always be palliative rather than preventative.


That means investing in watershed management, micro-irrigation, flood-resilient crops, and early warning systems. And it means shifting part of the rural economy away from rain-fed monocultures towards more diversified, less water-hungry livelihoods.


For now, however, farmers do not need lectures on climate adaptation. They need seeds, fodder, credit relief and roofs over their heads. They need a government that recognises the urgency of their plight rather than hiding behind procedural hurdles.


The government has promised that relief will reach before Diwali. For families staring at mud-soaked fields and destroyed homes, the festival of lights will otherwise feel like a cruel reminder of darkness. Whether that promise is kept will test not only the efficiency of Maharashtra’s administration but also the resilience of its politics.


Welfare schemes such as Ladki Bahin may have their place. But they cannot be allowed to swallow the state’s capacity to respond to disaster. Nor can they become a substitute for governance itself. In this hour, Maharashtra must act not merely as benefactor but as guardian.


Marathwada today is not just a story of floods. It is a parable of a state caught between the monsoon and the moneylender, between climate shocks and fiscal populism. Whether Maharashtra can navigate this storm will decide not only the fate of its farmers but also the credibility of the Mahayuti government.


(The writer is a communication professional. Views Personal.)

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