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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.

Guns of Independence

While India has made big strides in defence self-reliance, a truly ‘Atmanirbhar’ military machine remains elusive.

India likes to see itself as a rising power, capable not only of defending its borders but also of shaping security beyond them. For that ambition, self-reliance in defence is a necessity. Over the past decade, successive governments in New Delhi have spoken the language of ‘Atmanirbharta’ (self-reliance), tying it to the broader ‘Make in India’ campaign. On paper, the progress is striking: defence production has surged to Rs. 1.51 trillion, exports have risen tenfold in less than a decade to more than Rs. 23,000 crore, and Indian-made platforms from artillery guns to radar systems are finding buyers as far afield as the United States and France.


Yet statistics, however dazzling, can be deceptive. True Atmanirbharta is not measured merely by output or export numbers but by the ability to design, develop and sustain advanced technologies without recourse to foreign suppliers. By that yardstick, India is still some distance from its goal as the gap between aspiration and reality remains wide.


Self-sufficiency mirage

India’s defence industry has long been defined by dependence. During the Cold War, Moscow supplied the bulk of its hardware. Even today, Russia remains India’s largest supplier, though its share has declined as New Delhi diversifies. French fighter jets, American transport aircraft and Israeli drones dot Indian inventories. Even when equipment is ‘indigenously produced,’ critical components often come from abroad. Fighter engines, advanced sensors, jet trainers and submarines are all still imported in varying degrees.


The government deserves credit for narrowing this gap. The Defence Acquisition Procedure has been revised to privilege domestic suppliers, a negative import list bans procurement of certain categories from overseas, and industrial corridors are being set up in Uttar Pradesh and Tamil Nadu. Yet India’s climb towards self-sufficiency is slowed by stubborn obstacles.


Stumbling blocks

The first is infrastructure. Defence production demands reliable power, fast transport links and robust supply chains. Too often, Indian manufacturers face bottlenecks that delay deliveries and inflate costs. The second is skills. A large share of the workforce lacks the training needed for high-precision manufacturing or for research in advanced domains such as artificial intelligence, hypersonics and quantum technologies. Skilling programmes exist, but they lag behind the pace at which the sector is expanding.


Finance is another stumbling block. Access to capital for small and medium enterprises is cumbersome. For many firms, navigating procurement red tape is as challenging as developing the product itself.


A fourth weakness lies in regulation. Defence remains overburdened with approvals, certifications and quality checks that are lengthy, opaque and prone to bureaucratic delay. While designed to safeguard standards, the process too often strangles innovation.


Finally, innovation itself remains thin. India spends barely 0.7 percent of GDP on research and development across all sectors, far less than China or Israel. Within defence, public sector undertakings dominate, while private firms and start-ups face hurdles in accessing research grants or testing facilities.


Bridging these gaps will require a mix of persistence and imagination. The state must spend more on research, but also change how it spends by opening laboratories and test facilities to private firms, universities and start-ups. Competition should be encouraged between public-sector giants and nimble private players, not stifled.


The workforce must be upgraded through large-scale skilling initiatives that link universities, technical institutes and industry. India’s young demography is an asset; but without specialised training, it risks being squandered. The Strategic Partnership model, envisaged as a mechanism to pair Indian firms with global giants for technology transfer, must be made to work. Too often, such schemes get stuck in paperwork or mistrust. Successful partnerships could help India master technologies from jet engines to undersea warfare systems.


Defence start-ups should be given easier access to credit lines and venture funds, backed by government guarantees. Procurement should be streamlined, with single-window clearances replacing the tortuous approval maze.


India should also court foreign direct investment more openly. A more liberal FDI regime could bring not just capital but also know-how. The aim should not be to shun foreign firms but to embed them into local supply chains, gradually building domestic competence.


Exports, meanwhile, must be scaled up not only for commercial gain but also as an instrument of diplomacy. Supplying equipment to partners in Africa, Southeast Asia and the Indian Ocean will expand India’s influence and create leverage against rivals such as China, which is aggressively marketing low-cost arms in many of the same markets.


The government’s target of Rs. 3 trillion in defence production and Rs. 50,000 crore in exports by 2029 is ambitious but not implausible. Ultimately, Atmanirbharta must not become an exercise in protectionism or accounting triumphalism. It should be judged by whether India can design and produce next-generation systems on its own, whether drones that can match Chinese swarms, or naval platforms that can secure sea lanes without imported engines. India is better placed today than ever before to reach that standard. But the road to true self-reliance is long, steep and strewn with obstacles. Dreams of a global role rest on whether it can master that climb. They demand relentless execution.


(The author is a retired Naval Aviation Officer and a defence and geopolitical analyst. Views personal.)

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