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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 River Runs Through It

The Polavaram–Banakacherla project has rekindled old water wars between Andhra Pradesh and Telangana, with deeper currents of politics and power at play.

Telangana
Telangana

Few things stir passions in India’s southern states as deeply as water. For decades, the sharing of river flows between Telangana and Andhra Pradesh has been the subject of fierce legal, technical and political wrangling. The latest flashpoint is the Polavaram–Banakacherla project, a grand scheme by Andhra Pradesh to divert floodwaters from the Godavari river to the parched Rayalaseema region and parts of coastal Andhra. The project, say its backers, is an act of hydraulic salvation. Its critics, chiefly Telangana’s Congress government, see it as an illegal siphoning of the state’s rightful resources.


On paper, the plan sounds benign. Andhra Pradesh’s irrigation minister, Nimmala Ramanaidu, insists that the project would tap only the surplus floodwaters of the Godavari - waters that would otherwise drain uselessly into the Bay of Bengal. According to his figures, over 3,000 thousand million cubic feet (TMC) of water flood into the sea each year. If Andhra Pradesh can catch a fraction of this excess, Rayalaseema’s parched fields might bloom.


But Telangana sees red. Its irrigation minister, N. Uttam Kumar Reddy, has accused Andhra Pradesh of trying to bulldoze its way past legal clearances and water-sharing norms enshrined in the Godavari Water Disputes Tribunal (GWDT) Award and the Andhra Pradesh Reorganisation Act of 2014. Chief Minister A. Revanth Reddy has gone a step further, threatening not only legal action but a full-fledged political campaign while accusing Andhra of attempting to divert 400 TMC of Godavari water to Krishna and Penna basins without due consent.


Congress-ruled Telangana’s rage is not only aimed at Andhra Pradesh, whose government is a BJP ally. Reddy also trained his guns at K. Chandrasekhar Rao (KCR), the former chief minister and head of the opposition Bharat Rashtra Samithi (BRS). In 2016, KCR himself told the river management’s Apex Council that surplus Godavari water, then estimated at 3,000 TMC, could be used to irrigate Rayalaseema. He even laid the foundation for the Banakacherla project. Now, as BRS leaders accuse the Congress of failing to resist Andhra’s designs, the Congress is accusing them of complicity.


All this exposes a darker truth: water politics in the two Telugu states is often less about the rivers than about who controls them. In the past, Telangana’s leaders justified their massive, questionably cleared schemes like the Kaleshwaram Lift Irrigation Project on similar grounds of surplus water. Andhra Pradesh is now echoing that same rationale. Each state blames the other for procedural short-cuts, while accusing New Delhi of partisanship or neglect.


The heart of the matter lies in the ambiguity surrounding ‘surplus’ waters. The Godavari, India’s second-longest river, is mighty in monsoon but fickle in lean months. Diverting floodwaters without affecting downstream allocations is an engineering challenge and a political minefield. Who gets to define what constitutes ‘surplus’? How much of it can be harnessed without disrupting flows elsewhere? These are questions that India’s outdated river tribunals and half-formed river boards have yet to answer with consistency.


The Centre, as always, is walking a tightrope. Telangana has already petitioned ministries including Jal Shakti, Finance and Environment and warned of legal escalation. Andhra, for its part, is banking on Chandrababu Naidu’s renewed proximity to the Modi government to fast-track permissions.


For Telangana, memories of historic water neglect during its decades under unified Andhra rule still sting. For Andhra, especially Rayalaseema, the project is an overdue attempt to redress regional imbalance within the state.


There is an urgent need for institutional reform. India’s river boards are essentially toothless. Until water-sharing agreements are periodically reviewed, transparently enforced and jointly monitored, each project becomes set to be a pretext for conflict.


The Polavaram–Banakacherla saga is about competing visions of justice and development in a climate-stressed India. As states scramble for every drop, the Union government must rise above parochial politics and insist on clear, enforceable mechanisms that prioritise long-term sustainability over short-term gain. If not, India’s rivers may continue to unite regions on the map but divide them in spirit.

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