top of page

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 Grand Alliance sans Unity

Updated: Sep 26, 2025

As seat arithmetic turns toxic, Bihar’s Mahagathbandhan risks unravelling into a coalition of ambition rather than a credible alternative to the NDA.

The Mahagathbandhan (grand alliance) in Bihar is beginning to look less like a coalition with a unified cause and more like a crowded marketplace, where each partner is haggling fiercely for a larger slice of the pie. With state elections looming, the opposition is visibly expending more energy in outmanoeuvring each other than in building a coherent fight against the NDA. The seat-sharing negotiations, instead of remaining behind closed doors, have surged into the open, exposing the inherent fragility of this Mahgathbandhan.

 

At the heart of the tussle sits Tejashwi Yadav, heir to Lalu Prasad Yadav, who insists that the RJD alone carries the real mass base in Bihar. By staking an unambiguous claim to the chief ministerial position, Tejashwi has made clear that the Mahagathbandhan revolves around him, or not at all. His “Bihar Adhikar Yatra,” timed conspicuously after Rahul Gandhi’s “Voter Adhikar Yatra,” is less about outreach and more about reminder that without RJD, the alliance has little hope. By signaling his intent to contest more seats than in 2020, Tejashwi is both daring his allies and protecting his turf.

 

On the other end, Congress is determined not to be relegated to junior partner status once again. Buoyed by the crowds drawn to Rahul Gandhi’s yatra and Priyanka Gandhi Vadra’s newly active campaigning, the party has swung into the negotiation ring with uncharacteristic aggression. Demanding around 100 seats, nearly one-third of the assembly, it has forced the conversation onto new ground. Yet, Congress’s past record weighs heavily against it, in 2020, it contested 70 seats and managed only 19 wins. Small wonder then, that Lalu Yadav’s dismissive remark about “losers” being unworthy of tickets stings so much. For Congress, however, this election represents a fight not just against the NDA but against its own irrelevance in Bihar.

 

The Left, too, has smelled opportunity in the chaos. CPI(ML), citing its superior track record (12 wins from 19 contests in 2020), wants 40 seats, twice what even its performance arguably justifies. CPI and CPM, despite their modest showing, are similarly keen to stretch their bargaining chips. CPI wants 8 seats and CPM 5, compared to the 10 they contested jointly last time, of which they could win only 4. The VIP, sensing its moment in the sun, has also claimed 40 seats while JMM and RLJP circle the negotiations like smaller fish waiting for scraps.

 

But for all the posturing, one reality anchors the Mahagathbandhan, RJD’s dominance. With 75 seats won in the last election out of 144, Tejashwi knows his muscle is unmatchable. His refusal to cede even symbolic ground underscores a larger truth that in Bihar, every seat surrendered risks not only vote percentage but long-term political clout. Thus, while Congress and others may bluster, no one dares to truly rupture ties with RJD. This time, RJD is aiming high, preparing to contest 154. Observers suggest a possible formula where Congress may settle for around 42 seats, CPI(ML) for 24, CPI for 6, CPM for 4, VIP for 8, RLJP for 3, and JMM for 2.

 

The math is brutally simple, more seats to the smaller parties means fewer for RJD, and RJD will not accept shrinking itself for coalition camaraderie. If anything, these skirmishes raise a larger question, is the Mahagathbandhan a vehicle for collective opposition or merely a platform for competing ambitions? The optics of the alliance quarreling over who gets how many seats, even before a single vote is cast, can only strengthen the NDA’s hand. Coalitions are supposed to amplify unity; instead, the Mahagathbandhan risks presenting itself as fractured before the campaign truly begins.

 

This is not the first time Bihar’s opposition has struggled to manage its contradictions. The state has had a long history of uneasy coalitions. In the mid-1990s Lalu Prasad Yadav, then at the height of his power, presided over alliances that often collapsed under the weight of his dominance. In 2015, a different ‘grand alliance’ of the RJD, Janata Dal (United) and Congress temporarily halted the BJP’s advance, but disintegrated within two years when Nitish Kumar switched back to the NDA. Each experiment underscores the paradox that while coalitions are essential to challenge the BJP’s formidable machine, they rarely last beyond a single election cycle. Today’s Mahagathbandhan is no different.

 

The narrative emerging from this alliance is that its arithmetic is shaky, and until its partners learn to privilege collective victory over individual ambition, their algebra of power may never add up to a winning formula.

Comments


bottom of page