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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.

Drenched in Excuses: How Mumbai’s Leaders Let the City Sink

Mumbai’s monsoon misery lays bare not just its drains, but the bankruptcy of its politics.

As the first monsoon showers lashed Mumbai, trains ground to a halt, roads vanished under swirling brown water, power flickered out and the political blame game began. Maharashtra’s ruling coalition, the Mahayuti (comprising of the BJP, the Eknath Shinde-led Shiv Sena and Ajit Pawar-led NCP) was quick to point fingers. Deputy Chief Minister Eknath Shinde blamed the “unexpected” early arrival of the monsoon. It was a remark drenched in absurdity. The monsoon is not a rogue intruder. It arrives every year. What is truly unexpected, and unforgivable, is the government’s perennial unpreparedness.


Mumbai recorded its wettest May in over a century - 250mm in just 13 hours. But for a city that sits at the mercy of tropical cycles and rising sea levels, the failure to anticipate and mitigate such rainfall is no less than administrative dereliction. Local train services were paralysed; more than 50 services on Central and Harbour lines were cancelled. Water seeped into the newly built Worli Metro Station. The Acharya Atre Metro station had to be shut for three days. In South Mumbai, an internal municipal analysis identified 80 new flooding hotspots, adding to the 386 already on the BMC’s monsoon watchlist.


Despite the installation of 417 dewatering pumps, many failed during peak rainfall, crippling traffic and public transit. Even mini-pumping station operators were fined for negligence—too little, too late. The basic infrastructure of Mumbai, a city of 20 million and the nation’s financial capital, remains brittle and colonial in origin. That is not the fault of the clouds.


The opposition, particularly Aaditya Thackeray of the Shiv Sena (UBT), son of former chief minister Uddhav Thackeray, has seized on the Mahayuti government’s failures. He has accused the state administration and the BMC of corruption, incompetence, and a lack of political will to protect the public. “Mumbai has collapsed in the rains, and it’s only May,” he scoffed. Thackeray has also charged the BJP with delaying local BMC elections to run the municipal body via proxy from the Chief Minister’s office. His barbs - “Why this hatred for Mumbai?” - landed hard. Shinde’s only retort was to gesture at the skies.


The BJP, in turn, has tried to blame the previous Sena-led BMC administration for systemic rot. Ashish Shelar, a BJP minister, suggested that the city’s current woes were rooted in years of (undivided) Shiv Sena misrule - an accusation that sparked angry poster campaigns from the UBT camp. The result was the over-familiar spectacle of mutual recrimination with parties (both ruling and opposition) offering few concrete solutions for why it continues to do so.


The romanticism of the rains, immortalized in Bollywood melodies like ‘Rimjhim Ghire Sawan,’ stands in stark contrast to the current political climate, where leaders seem more engrossed in mudslinging than in addressing the genuine concerns of the city’s residents.


This political trench warfare serves a larger purpose. For the BJP, attacking the UBT-led Sena helps justify its partnership with Shinde’s rebel faction. For Shinde, it diverts attention from his lacklustre performance in the Urban Development and Public Works departments over the past two and a half years. But all this noise comes at the expense of real governance. While leaders posture and pander to their base, ordinary Mumbaikars slosh through fetid streets, endure hours-long commutes, and fret about disease outbreaks.


The BMC’s response to the flooding has been more bureaucratic than bold. Fines and reports are trotted out after the fact, but the core of the problem remains unaddressed. Mumbai’s outdated stormwater drainage system, parts of which date back to the British era, cannot handle the volume and velocity of modern monsoon rains. The long-delayed Brimstowad project, a proposal to overhaul the city’s drainage, remains incomplete. Piecemeal interventions like pumping stations and temporary barricades may offer momentary relief, but they are not a substitute for a structural solution.


What Mumbai needs is not more spectacle, but stewardship. It needs serious investment in climate-resilient infrastructure: revamped drainage, flood-resilient construction norms, emergency response systems, and an empowered civic administration. It also needs accountable governance through local elections, not remote control. The absence of an elected BMC, long overdue, is itself an indictment of the ruling alliance’s priorities.


There is something uniquely tragic about the contrast between the poetic nostalgia Mumbai’s monsoons evoke and the bureaucratic chaos they now reliably unleash. The city of cinema and finance, of dabbawalas and Dalal Street, of sea spray and spirit, deserves better than to be reduced to a backdrop for seasonal blame games.


The Shiv Sena (UBT) has a point when it questions the Mahayuti’s handling of the crisis. But it is not blameless either. After decades of controlling the BMC, its own legacy is part of the mess. What Mumbai needs is not political scorekeeping but a new consensus: that monsoon resilience is a civic, not partisan, priority. Otherwise, it will remain locked in this yearly theatre of failure, drowning in both water and excuses.


Ultimately, when Mumbai’s streets flood, trains stall and power snaps, it is not the monsoon that has failed. It is the men in charge.

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