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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.

From Damascus to Cyrenaica

The fall of the Assad regime has led Russia to pivot from Syria to Libya to secure its Mediterranean influence.

Damascus to Cyrenaica

The collapse of Bashar al-Assad’s regime last month has turned the Syrian capital into a graveyard for Russian ambitions, a stark epitaph for what once seemed like Moscow’s triumphant return to global geopolitics. Damascus, long a prized jewel in Vladimir Putin’s crown of influence, symbolized more than a strategic alliance. It was an ideological defiance, a barricade against Western encroachment and a showcase for Russia’s military prowess.


Now, for Moscow, the shock of Syria’s unravelling has prompted an urgent imperative for reinvention. Like a chess player unfazed by the loss of a queen, Putin’s foreign policy machinery has shifted its gaze westward to Libya. Eastern Libya, with its fractured politics and strategic Mediterranean coastline, has emerged as Russia’s new staging ground. Troops, warplanes and Wagner Group mercenaries, now rebranded with Orwellian flair as the ‘Africa Corps’ are being redeployed to Libyan bases.


This has led Khalifa Haftar, the strongman of the Libyan National Army, to step into the spotlight. Haftar is no stranger to Russian patronage. His transactional relationship with Moscow mirrors Assad’s. In Syria, Russia gained naval access to Tartus and control of Hmeimim airbase in exchange for propping up Assad. In Libya, Haftar’s fiefdom in Cyrenaica offers Russia a gateway to Africa and a lever to disrupt Western designs. Yet, like Assad, Haftar’s reliance on Moscow reveals the vulnerability beneath the veneer of strength. His grip on power depends on the illusion of autonomy, even as Russian mercenaries provide the scaffolding.


Haftar’s dependence deepened after his failed 2019 assault on Tripoli, a miscalculated gambit that left his forces in retreat and his credibility diminished. Enter the Wagner Group, whose drones and military advisors have kept Haftar afloat while tethering him to Moscow’s geopolitical agenda. It is an uneasy partnership. For Russia, Haftar is a tool, not a partner—a proxy to further its ambitions in the Mediterranean, not a leader to champion.


Western policymakers, meanwhile, are caught in their own quagmire. Washington’s repeated attempts to woo figures like Haftar with promises of legitimacy and patronage betray a fundamental misunderstanding of the power dynamics at play. Haftar’s strength is borrowed, a reality that mirrors Assad’s reliance on Moscow’s firepower in Syria. The West’s failure to grasp this has left it flailing in a game where the rules are being rewritten in Moscow.


Yet the story of Libya, like Syria before it, is not just one of external meddling but of internal decay. The National Oil Corporation, Libya’s economic lifeline, has become a pawn in factional disputes. Governance has disintegrated into kleptocracy, creating a vacuum where foreign actors like Russia thrive. Strengthening Libya’s institutions—ensuring accountability, restoring sovereignty, and fostering inclusive political frameworks—is the West’s only viable countermeasure.


That said, Haftar, like Assad, is a precarious foundation for empire-building. The more Moscow invests in him, the more it risks repeating the cycle of dependency and collapse that played out in Damascus.


The fall of Assad and the rise of Haftar as Moscow’s new linchpin should serve as a clarion call for Western policymakers. Reacting to crises as they unfold has only left the region more susceptible to exploitation. If the West hopes to counter Russia’s influence, it will have to address the underlying vulnerabilities that make such interventions possible. Libya, like Syria before it, is not just a battlefield for foreign powers but a mirror reflecting the failures of governance and the perils of neglect.


In the grand chessboard of global politics, the pieces are always in motion. But as Moscow shifts its weight from one unstable alliance to another, it risks discovering the limits of a strategy built on proxies and pragmatism. For the West, the lesson is clear: the game isn’t won by reacting to the moves of others—it’s won by reshaping the board.

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