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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.

Reservation Roulette: The Battle for Quotas in Maharashtra

As Maratha demands redraw political equations, OBC leaders are in no mood to knuckle under and crawl.

Yet again, Maharashtra’s politics is at a crossroads, buffeted by caste tensions following the resurgent demands for quotas. The recent hunger strike in Mumbai led by activist Manoj Jarange Patil, demanding Marathas with Kunbi ancestry be recognised under the Other Backward Classes (OBC) quota, has unsettled the state’s fragile political balance. By forcing the government’s hand, Jarange raised the hackles of the OBC community yet again.


Jarange Patil’s hunger strike at Azad Maidan led the state government to announce a resolution that Marathas who can establish Kunbi ancestry through official records would henceforth be eligible for OBC status, unlocking access to education and employment reservations. Police cases against protesters were dropped, underscoring the government’s intent to placate the movement. This seemingly straightforward compromise masks a far more complicated reality.


For decades, Maharashtra’s BJP strategy was built around social engineering. In the late 1980s, Vasant Bhagwat, a senior RSS pracharak, devised the MADHAV formula - an acronym linking Mali, Agri, Dhangar, Hindu Scheduled Castes, Artisan groups and Vanjari communities. These groups had long been politically marginalized under the dominance of the Maratha elite. Bhagwat’s insight was to blend Hindutva with tangible promises of representation. His strategy succeeded spectacularly. The elevation of leaders like Gopinath Munde gave the BJP a rural OBC face, enabling it to break the Congress’ stranglehold by the mid-1990s.


The MADHAV coalition remains central to the BJP’s electoral calculus in Maharashtra. Yet, as the Maratha reservation agitation gathered momentum, signs of strain became visible. OBC leaders increasingly complained that welfare schemes, scholarships, and political representation were being neglected in favour of appeasing other groups. The Jarange Patil movement accelerated these anxieties, as many feared the dilution of their hard-won space in the quota system.


Reactions among OBC leaders have been sharply divided. Some welcomed the government’s assurance that the overall OBC quota share would remain untouched. They argued that the process was designed to prevent abuse: only applicants with authentic genealogical documents, verified by tehsildars and village committees, would qualify. The government also pledged to release Rs. 3,600 crore in welfare allocations earmarked for OBCs, signalling that development would continue apace.


But others saw betrayal. Activists publicly tore up government resolutions, denouncing what they viewed as loose criteria that could flood the OBC category with Marathas lacking legitimate Kunbi heritage. Veteran OBC minister Chhagan Bhujbal hinted at a legal challenge. Opposition parties, chiefly the Congress, the Sharad Pawar-led Nationalist Congress Party NCP (SP) and the Samajwadi Party quickly seized the opportunity and launched OBC-focused rallies while accusing the BJP of selling out backward castes for political expediency. Anil Deshmukh of the NCP (SP) warned that the move would harm ‘genuine OBCs’ by shrinking their share of jobs and education seats, even if the percentage remained formally unchanged.


The dilemma for the government is palpable. If the verification process is too lax, OBC groups will cry foul. If it is too stringent, Maratha claimants will feel aggrieved, accusing the state of foot-dragging or bias. Meanwhile, the slow disbursal of welfare funds could amplify frustration across both camps. Protracted court cases are all but inevitable, creating a cloud of uncertainty that could fuel further unrest.


Beyond the quota tussle, OBC leaders have broadened their demands. They now call for visible development in their districts, highlighting poor schools, weak health infrastructure, and inadequate housing schemes. More than mere vote banks, they are asserting their right to be full-fledged stakeholders in governance. As one activist put it: “We no longer want to be silent spectators. We want a say in policymaking.”


The leadership’s wish list is clear: legal guarantees on reservation percentages irrespective of the number of Marathas claiming Kunbi status; strict and transparent verification processes; accessible procedures for rural applicants without archival documents but with genuine claims; and expanded political representation in elected bodies and state committees. Above all, they demand tangible investments in education, healthcare, and housing where OBCs are numerically significant.


This political moment is critical. The BJP’s electoral fortunes have long hinged on the loyalty of OBC groups, particularly the Mali, Dhangar and Vanjari communities. Losing their trust now risks eroding that base. Opposition parties are already positioning themselves as defenders of OBC rights, further complicating the ruling party’s calculus.


If handled well, the crisis could prompt more inclusive governance. Transparent and swift implementation of the verification process, prompt release of welfare funds, and meaningful inclusion of OBC representatives in decision-making could defuse tensions and stabilise Maharashtra’s caste politics. But if mishandled, it could deepen mistrust, provoke further protests and embolden opportunistic politicians who thrive on division.


In the coming months, the state government’s ability to navigate these cross-currents will determine whether this episode becomes a stepping stone toward equitable politics or a trigger for lasting conflict. The OBC leadership has already made its stance unequivocally clear. Now, it is up to policymakers to deliver before the fragile social contract of Maharashtra is irreparably torn.


(The writer is a political observer. Views Personal.)

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