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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, Dravidian-Style

M.K. Stalin’s cynical campaign against the Election Commission reeks of political theatre, not principle.

Tamil Nadu
Tamil Nadu

In Chennai’s political theatre, few performers relish the spotlight as much as M.K. Stalin. The Tamil Nadu Chief Minister, scion of the Dravidian dynasty that has ruled the state for much of the past half-century, now casts himself as democracy’s last defender. His latest move was to summon a grand all-party meeting railing against the Election Commission’s Special Intensive Revision (SIR) of electoral rolls. This act has been billed as a crusade to protect the voting rights of Tamil Nadu’s people.


The resolution that emerged from this conclave of the like-minded thundered against the SIR as “anti-democratic” and a “direct attack” on Tamil Nadu’s electorate. Stalin and his chorus have warned that should the EC fail to halt the process, they would march to the Supreme Court to rescue democracy from Delhi’s grasp.


The irony is almost theatrical. The SIR, a bureaucratic revision of electoral rolls underway across a dozen states and union territories, is an attempt to ensure accuracy. Yet in Tamil Nadu, Stalin would have people believe that it is the reincarnation of the Emergency. His allies denounce it as a stealthy National Register of Citizens.


If Stalin were truly concerned about constitutional propriety, he might have begun by inviting all major parties to his so-called ‘all-party’ meeting. Instead, both the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) and the AIADMK - his chief rivals - were conspicuously excluded. A leader who sermonises about inclusivity cannot bear dissent at the conference table, it seems.


For a man whose government faces an ever-thickening fog of corruption allegations, the timing of this manufactured moral outrage is convenient. The SIR provides Stalin with a distraction, a fresh villain in Delhi against whom he can rally the faithful. Actor-turned-politician Vijay’s Tamilaga Vettri Kazhagam dubbed the meeting a “political stunt” while pointedly noting that while Kerala’s government had passed a formal Assembly resolution against the SIR, Stalin’s DMK has done nothing of the sort.


The DMK’s language betrays its motives. In public, it warns that the SIR will allegedly snatch away voting rights. In private, it fears that an updated voter roll may loosen its grip on certain constituencies by pruning inflated or duplicated entries that quietly serve the ruling machine. Stalin’s feigned indignation is, in essence, an admission of political insecurity. A party confident of its public support would welcome a clean electoral roll.


Tamil Nadu’s long Dravidian tradition of populism has thrived on paranoia of Delhi, of Hindi imposition, and of northern interference in general. Against this backdrop, Stalin’s inflation of grievance frames any administrative action from Delhi as an attack on Tamil pride.


What makes this pantomime particularly galling is the DMK’s own record. This is a party that has never hesitated to manipulate institutions when in power, whether by bending local bodies to partisan ends or using state media to amplify its mythology. Its outrage over electoral rolls rings hollow from a party that has spent decades perfecting the art of patronage politics and bureaucratic capture. In Tamil Nadu, the ruling party’s idea of democracy has always meant democracy on its own terms.


Stalin’s resolution will, of course, find no shortage of allies. Every small outfit that thrives under the DMK’s shadow will join the chorus. They will all speak of defending democracy while ensuring that the only democracy that survives is their own.


The episode exposes the hollow heart of Dravidian politics which is a perpetual victimhood narrative that turns every administrative process into a battlefield for political theatre. Stalin is less the guardian of democracy than its most flamboyant performer. His outrage over the SIR is not a stand for liberty but a smokescreen for fear.


If there is indeed a ‘murder of democracy’ in Tamil Nadu, it lies not in the Election Commission’s paperwork but in the cynical manipulation of democratic language by those who have long mistaken power for principle.

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