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By:

Bhalchandra Chorghade

11 August 2025 at 1:54:18 pm

Colour of Victory Should Never Need a Political Palette

For nearly a century, Indian hockey, or for that matter any team representing the country, has been synonymous with one colour, ok blue. It is the shade that witnessed eight Olympic gold medals, the artistry of Dhyan Chand, the revival under Harmanpreet Singh, ICC ODI and T20 World Cups, and countless moments when the tricolour rose above the podium. The jersey was never merely a piece of fabric; it became part of India’s sporting identity. Now, Hockey India’s decision to replace the...

Colour of Victory Should Never Need a Political Palette

For nearly a century, Indian hockey, or for that matter any team representing the country, has been synonymous with one colour, ok blue. It is the shade that witnessed eight Olympic gold medals, the artistry of Dhyan Chand, the revival under Harmanpreet Singh, ICC ODI and T20 World Cups, and countless moments when the tricolour rose above the podium. The jersey was never merely a piece of fabric; it became part of India’s sporting identity. Now, Hockey India’s decision to replace the traditional blue with saffron for the away kit has triggered a debate far larger than sport. Is this simply a marketing exercise? A harmless aesthetic choice? Or another step towards painting every national institution in the colours of the ruling political narrative? The answer perhaps lies not in the jersey itself, but in the context. No one disputes saffron’s place in India’s history. It is one of the colours of the national flag and symbolises courage and sacrifice. Equally, blue carries deep civilisational and constitutional significance—from Lord Krishna to Dr. B.R. Ambedkar, and from the Ashoka Chakra at the centre of the Tiranga to the identity Indian sport has built over decades. The irony is striking. For years, administrators proudly marketed India’s teams as the “Men in Blue” and “Women in Blue.” The colour transcended cricket and became the common sporting identity across disciplines. Today, without any compelling sporting necessity, that identity appears expendable. Supporters argue that many countries use alternate jerseys. Indeed, they do. Australia wears green and gold. Brazil alternates between yellow and blue. Football clubs routinely unveil fresh designs every season. But there is a difference between refreshing a brand and redefining a national sporting identity. When symbolism repeatedly moves in only one ideological direction, questions become inevitable. Perhaps the next logical step would be renaming the blue astroturf into saffron turf as well. After all, consistency is important. Sarcasm aside, sport derives its greatest strength from its ability to unite people beyond politics. Fans cheer goals not governments. They celebrate drag flicks not ideological colour charts. An Indian victory over Pakistan or Australia has never depended on whether the players wore blue, white or orange. It depended on skill, preparation and character. The danger lies in normalising symbolic interventions that appear unnecessary. One isolated decision may be dismissed as coincidence. But when institutions across sectors—from textbooks to public spaces, from cultural bodies to sporting symbols—begin reflecting similar aesthetic choices, citizens are entitled to ask whether coincidence has quietly become policy. This is not an argument against saffron. It is an argument against selective symbolism. India’s greatest strength has always been its pluralism. The Tiranga itself does not privilege one colour over another. Saffron stands with white and green, held together by the blue Ashoka Chakra. Remove the balance and the flag loses its meaning. Ironically, the colour being sidelined is the one sitting at the heart of the national flag. Administrators would do well to remember that sporting institutions inherit traditions; they do not merely manage brands. Jerseys evoke memories that marketing campaigns cannot manufacture. The blue shirt reminds millions of Olympic triumphs, Asian Games glory and generations of hockey lovers who never asked what ideology their team’s colour represented. Sport should remain one of the few arenas where citizens see only India—not competing political shades of India. If Hockey India genuinely wishes to modernise the sport, there are more pressing priorities than changing colours. Better domestic leagues, stronger grassroots programmes, improved infrastructure and higher player welfare would generate far more excitement than a redesigned jersey. Winning medals, laurels and titles changes history. Changing colours merely changes wardrobes.

Bharat’s Jetson Cities, Light-years Away from Nature

Updated: Jan 20, 2025

Jetson Cities

One thing is for certain: our Bharatiya cities, the big metros and towns, are fast becoming like the ‘Jetson’ cities. For those who are unaware of Jetson cities, these were first shown in the famous Hanna-Barbera cartoon series, the Jetsons, set in the 2100s, where cities are air-tight glass globules tethered to the ground, and the only way to get in and out are the flying cars. Yes, we, the city-dwellers, aspire to tall skyscrapers, spectacular bridges, world-class tunnels, swooshing metro trains, and we are building Jetson-like flying cars. A few HD drone images here and there, during the day and at night and around twilight, and we are content that our cities have become the cynosure of our own eyes. We want our cities to be brightly lit, with neon signs, laser shows, and large billboard videos. We would then fulfil our inner desire to have a city on par with Tokyo, New York, and Shanghai.


Our buildings, designed for the next 30 years, are well air-conditioned, shielding occupants from a soupy dust bowl of brown smog, soot, particulate matter, and fine dust. It is said that most new home buyers invest at least 10% of their property’s price in enhancing the interiors, soundproofing their homes, using air purifiers and conditioners, and disconnecting from the outside world for that much-needed solace. Indeed, large builders promote their projects as close to nature amidst tranquillity. However, there is always another builder eager to get one plot of land ahead of yours to enjoy that nature. To be truthful, access to nature now comes at a premium - even the skies.


Let’s assume the working-age population is occupied in the leisure of our Jetson cities, but how many of their young school and college-going kids have seen the long arm of the Milky Way galaxy from their cities? How many have witnessed a comet zooming by? How many know about endemic plants with medicinal properties? When did they last see a chirping house sparrow? How many know that the nearest sewage drain was once a freshwater stream? When did they last find their suburban beach prettier than the resort beaches of Maldives?


The intent to ask these questions is simple: Bharat is currently at a crossroads. Pundits are enthusiastic about a cultural renaissance on the horizon. Corporate leaders, on the other hand, want us to invest hundreds of hours each week to pay our dues to the growth of the national GDP. But no one asks, if a cultural renaissance is to occur, who will generate the new understandings and insights of nature that arise typically during such a period of human advancement? No one is actually asking, for whom are we building the nation if there is no time for children, or worse, if there is no time or intent to have children. In the process of growing rich, we are about to become old. By 2047, 65% of the population under the age of 35 will grow beyond 35 all at once, and we’d have an enormous population in advanced ages with a tapering young population, a graph that looks like a banyan tree. Unfortunately, that young population will have no access to the knowledge that nature has to offer, neither flora and fauna nor the seas and the skies.


Our urbane lifestyles need tempering. Such tempering can occur only if we ensure the revival of natural sciences during this period of cultural renaissance and nation-building. Let’s not rely solely on the educational system. With Indian Knowledge Systems, constructive changes are underway, and academic curricula are poised to improve for the greater good. However, true knowledge arises only when parents and grandparents introduce children to nature. Genuine understanding also develops from extracurricular activities in schools and colleges that encourage kids to observe, journal, and act on their discoveries. On the positive side, our country’s forest cover is increasing, as announced by the government. However, efforts must be made to ensure that every school or college, whether in Mumbai, Vijayawada, Gorakhpur, Ratlam, Thrissur, Bhuj, Faridabad, Imphal, Manali, Cuttack, or Ajmer, guarantees that their students are well aware of the endemic nature of their surroundings and are regularly observing and recording data on whatever interests them. Let kids observe rivers and understand the volume of water that flows through them. Let children learn about the decline of house sparrows in their cities and what steps should be taken to revive their populations. Let them study the bees in their nearby groves and recognise the vital role these bees play in nature.


Of course, you need to learn AI, robotics, fintech, the next generation of management courses, and all the engineering bells and whistles. However, we must not leave the next generation with inadequate comprehension and skills for understanding nature. We must ensure that nature conservation is not merely lip service or a tool for politicised green activists. This can be achieved if natural sciences are given the respect they deserve at the school, undergraduate, and postgraduate levels.


Indeed, I am a plebeian, and you might feel that you, too, could write a rant about the plight of our urban lives. Urban development and municipal experts have many solutions to propose, but few are willing to take action. However, that is not the issue I wish to highlight. I aim to illustrate a much larger concern—that Indian city dwellers are disoriented and devoid of nature, lacking a guiding star to lead them toward a brighter future. Our cities of Mumbai, Delhi, Bengaluru, Ahmedabad, Kolkata, and Chennai have taken on characteristics reminiscent of Jetson-like cities. We show little regard for the Nagar Devata, Gram Devata, and Van Devata, who have protected the cities, towns, and forests that once surrounded us. We wait for formal governance to clean up our beaches, rivers, and ponds without making sufficient efforts to prevent pollution in the first place.


For those striving to grasp spirituality not through the Puranas and Aadi-Granth but through new-age podcasts, I recommend watching Vinay Varanasi’s podcast on Bhagavan Vishnu’s Dashavatar. If it is clear that Bhagavan Vishnu does not tolerate disregard for Bhudevi or Mother Earth, why do we, the devotees of Bhagavan Vishnu, continue to pollute our Mother Earth—her air, soil, waters, and sounds? Or have we taken Elon Musk's words at face value, assuming our next destination is Mars after destroying Earth, only to ruin Mars later, even worse than its current clinically sterile state? If that is the case, then bear with me when I say this: these Jetson cities stand on precarious pillars of ego, victimhood, apathy, and consumerism, waiting to be toppled either by the true harbingers of order or by false prophets. Therefore, teach the next generations to observe nature, appreciate our coexistence with other species, and venerate the forces of nature. By doing so, we humans will be good, at least for the next thousand years. If not, prepare for a bleak future by the end of this century.


(The author is a Space and Emerging Technology Fellow at the Centre for Security, Strategy and Technology, Observer Research Foundation, Mumbai. Views personal.)

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