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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.

Democracy by Bloodline

India’s democracy thrives best when it defies dynasties.

If democracy is rule by the people, then dynastic politics is its betrayal in slow motion. Across India, many political parties operate more like family firms than democratic institutions, controlled not by internal elections but by inherited entitlement. This creeping restoration of monarchy, cloaked in populist rhetoric and electoral legitimacy, has eaten away at the foundations of the republic for decades.


For much of the 75 years since independence, Indian politics has been hollowed out by nepotism. The rise of scams, corruption, terrorism and foreign meddling, some argue, stem not just from administrative incompetence but from the entrenchment of families that treat political power as personal inheritance. Even parties that once emerged from mass movements or regional demands have been reduced to private limited enterprises, where decision-making rests with a patriarch and succession is managed through bloodlines.


It is against this backdrop that Narendra Modi, India’s prime minister since 2014, has positioned himself as the antithesis of this dynastic order. Eleven years into his premiership, Modi continues to draw a sharp contrast between his rise - from a tea-seller’s son to national leader - and the inheritance-driven ascent of political scions in other parties. For his supporters, this personal story is the embodiment of meritocracy in action.


Modi’s Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) claims to have rooted out nepotism from its organisational culture. Unlike parties where surnames dictate status, the BJP points to its own hierarchy led by men and women of modest means who rose through the ranks of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) and BJP cadre work. In Modi’s telling, this is what differentiates the BJP from the many dynastic parties that span India - from the Samajwadi Party in Uttar Pradesh to the Rashtriya Janata Dal in Bihar, the Trinamool Congress in West Bengal, and the DMK in Tamil Nadu.


Maharashtra offers a case study in dynastic dysfunction. The Shiv Sena, once a formidable regional force, gradually morphed into a private possession of the Thackeray family. After Bal Thackeray, his son Uddhav took the reins, not through internal election but familial inheritance. In 2019, Uddhav became Chief Minister through a post-poll alliance with ideological rivals – the Congress and the Nationalist Congress Party (NCP) - in what was seen by critics as an opportunistic grasp at power.


When the internal rift emerged within Shiv Sena in 2022, 39 of its 55 MLAs defected, citing lack of internal democracy and the high-handedness of Uddhav Thackeray. The MLAs elected a new legislative party leader and communicated their withdrawal of support to the Maha Vikas Aghadi(MVA) government. What followed was a constitutional tussle, marked by legal ambiguity and political drama. Uddhav eventually resigned, but not before decrying the manner in which he had been unseated.


The NCP, too, reveals how dynastic ambitions can fracture a party. Once helmed by Sharad Pawar, the party has splintered as family members jostle for succession. While nepotism has always existed in Indian politics, its consequences today seem particularly acute: loss of administrative accountability, criminalisation of politics and the transformation of public offices into private fiefdoms.


The Maha Vikas Aghadi government became synonymous with scandal. Allegations of corruption, extortion and money laundering dogged top ministers. Anil Deshmukh, the former home minister, was jailed. Nawab Malik, another cabinet minister, followed. The episode lent weight to Modi’s broader claim that nepotistic parties not only hollow out democracy but enable criminal behaviour under a protective dynastic umbrella.


The pattern repeats across India. In Uttar Pradesh, the Samajwadi Party’s reliance on the Yadav family has been both its strength and its Achilles’ heel. The party’s rule witnessed communal riots, lawlessness and eventually a public backlash. The BJP, promising ‘suraaj’ (good governance) and development, capitalised on the disorder to expand its base.


It would be naive, however, to claim that the BJP is entirely immune to dynastic temptation. Several BJP leaders, especially at the state level, have family members active in politics. Yet the central party leadership remains largely controlled by self-made individuals. Compared to regional outfits where succession is a foregone conclusion, the BJP still offers a more competitive internal ladder.


The persistence of family politics in India is not simply a structural flaw; it is a cultural phenomenon. Voters often associate familiar surnames with trust, continuity and recognition. Dynasts are not always untalented; many are well-educated and politically savvy. But when parties cease to function as democratic platforms and instead become vehicles for family advancement, the consequences can be corrosive.


India’s democracy has survived despite its dynasties but it will flourish only when citizens reject entitlement and demand accountability.


In an era of economic aspiration and digital transparency, public patience for family rule is thinning. The road to restoration runs not through bloodlines, but ballots.


(The writer is a senior Patna-based journalist and political analyst

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