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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.

Enemies No More?

Ashok Gehlot and Sachin Pilot strike a rare chord of unity in a bid to salvage the Congress in Rajasthan.

Rajasthan
Rajasthan

For a party that wears its internecine feuds as badges of honour, the Congress seems to have discovered something rarer than electoral victory in Rajasthan: détente. Earlier this week, at a prayer meeting in Dausa marking the 25th death anniversary of stalwart Congressman Rajesh Pilot, Ashok Gehlot and Sachin Pilot, long locked in political warfare, offered what looked like an olive branch to each other.


Gehlot, the party’s ageing warhorse and Rajasthan’s former three-time chief minister, leaned into a microphone and remarked “When were we ever far apart?”


He was referring, of course, to Sachin Pilot, Rajesh’s son and his own estranged protégé-turned-adversary. Just days earlier, Pilot had personally invited Gehlot to the ceremony - an invitation that Gehlot, perhaps unexpectedly, accepted.


The rivalry between Gehlot and Pilot has been emblematic of the generational, ideological and temperamental rifts that have come to define – and undermine - the Congress party. It began in earnest in December 2018, when the party clawed back power from the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) in Rajasthan. Pilot, then the state Congress chief, had led the campaign from the front, rebuilding the party’s ground game and expanding its appeal among youth and Gujjar voters. Yet when the spoils were divided, the high command anointed the more experienced Gehlot as chief minister. A miffed Pilot was placated with the post of deputy CM and retained the PCC presidency, a power-sharing arrangement that soon proved unworkable.


Tensions festered and finally erupted in July 2020, when Pilot, along with 18 loyalist MLAs, staged a mutiny from a Gurgaon resort. The plan, allegedly abetted by the BJP, failed partly because Gehlot outmanoeuvred his rival with ruthless precision, and partly because the Congress central leadership refused to blink. Pilot was sacked as deputy chief minister and as state party chief. Gehlot emerged stronger, but not unscathed. The bitterness was palpable. Gehlot publicly labelled Pilot as “useless” and “ineffective” while privately accusing him of conspiring with Union Home Minister Amit Shah to topple the government.


The feud split the party down the middle and contributed, in no small part, to its eventual defeat. In the 2023 assembly elections, the BJP staged a resounding comeback, aided by the Congress’s inability to present a united front or articulate a coherent governance record. Pilot had agitated for a leadership change, while Gehlot had tried to cling to power through loyalists and last-minute populist sops. Their mutual sabotage became the party’s funeral procession.


Now, in the aftermath of defeat, both leaders have begun sounding uncharacteristically magnanimous. Gehlot’s appearance in Dausa and his statement about enduring “love and affection” with Pilot may be part of a larger recalibration.


Still, few in Jaipur believe the Gehlot-Pilot truce is anything more than cosmetic. The ideological divide remains as Gehlot represents the Congress’s old guard which is statist, loyal to the Gandhi family. Pilot, in contrast, is modern, media-savvy, and seen as a symbol of aspirational politics among Rajasthan’s youth. Their respective camps, too, remain entrenched.


The question is what this truce, if it is one, actually achieves. With the BJP firmly in control of the state and having made deep inroads into rural and urban voter bases alike, the Congress’s path back to relevance in Rajasthan is steep. A united front could revive morale, but only if accompanied by fresh ideas and grassroots mobilisation. Merely swapping warm words at a memorial will not be enough.


Still, political history is not without precedent for turnarounds born in funeral courtyards. Rajesh Pilot himself was a tough, unifying figure, respected across the aisle. If his legacy can momentarily bridge a chasm between two Congressmen who helped tear the party apart, it may offer the faintest of hopes that the Grand Old Party still has a few embers of renewal left.

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