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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.

State of Notoriety

A spate of unsavoury incidents in varsity campuses and hospitals have exposed the deep rot in West Bengal’s institutions under the TMC.

West Bengal
West Bengal

There was a time when West Bengal prided itself on being a land of learning, a crucible of reform, and a stronghold of intellectual dissent. Today, it makes national headlines not for its ideas but for its impunity. In the span of three weeks, two alleged rapes - one inside the prestigious Indian Institute of Management (IIM) Calcutta, the other within the premises of South Calcutta Law College - have laid bare a pattern of notoriety.


Bengal’s institutions, once hailed as engines of progress, have become scenes of violence, and the state’s machinery seems either paralysed or politically compromised.


In the latest such incident, a 26-year-old IIM Calcutta student was arrested for allegedly drugging and raping a mental health counsellor within a student hostel on campus. The complainant claims she felt dizzy after sharing pizza and water with the accused, was denied access to a washroom, lost consciousness and was subsequently raped. That such an incident could unfold in one of India’s elite institutions is itself shocking. But even more troubling is how quickly this comes on the heels of an even more horrifying crime.


Late last month, a 24-year-old law student was gang-raped inside the South Calcutta Law College, dragged into a guard room by a criminal lawyer and two student accomplices. The main accused, Manojit Mishra, is a known face in the student wing of the ruling Trinamool Congress (TMC), reportedly close to senior party functionaries. If colleges are meant to be sanctuaries of justice and progress, then Bengal’s campuses have become laboratories of violence and impunity.


This is symptomatic of systemic decay. From the ghastly rape and murder of a trainee doctor at RG Kar Medical College last year, to the state’s limp response to the Sandeshkhali atrocities where TMC-affiliated goons allegedly harassed and assaulted women, West Bengal has repeatedly demonstrated that law enforcement is selective, institutional accountability is absent and political connections matter more than public safety.


A formal statement from the Director-in-Charge of IIM Kolkata asserts zero tolerance and promises cooperation with police. But statements are no substitute for action in a climate where institutional silos often collude with external pressure to dilute justice.


What unites these incidents is not just violence, but the impunity that follows. It is telling that the alleged rapist in the law college case had long outlived his student tenure yet maintained a stranglehold on the institution, operating with the kind of authority that suggests more than just familiarity.


This points to a governance model that has substituted law with loyalty. The TMC, which once promised a clean break from the CPI(M)’s strong-arm legacy, has merely rebranded authoritarianism in its own colours. Syndicate-run colleges, cadre-captured panchayats, and a bureaucracy allergic to accountability seems to be the new normal in Bengal. Justice is not just delayed or denied but is actively discouraged if the perpetrator has the right political credentials.


At the heart of this rot is a leader who once commanded national admiration. Mamata Banerjee, who rose as the “David” to CPI(M)’s “Goliath,” now presides over a system she once vowed to dismantle. Her government’s record on women’s safety, civil liberty, and institutional independence is positively dystopian. When leaders lose their moral compass, it is the powerless who bleed.


For now, Bengal’s streets will see a few candlelight marches, social media will churn with outrage and the news cycle will move on. But for the victims and for the thousands of students who enter these institutions in hope, something irreversible has shifted. A society that cannot guarantee basic safety in its spaces of learning has already begun its descent into darkness.


West Bengal today is not in the news because of its thinkers, achievers or reformers. It is in the news because violence against women has become routine and silence institutional. That is a tragedy which no amount of spin can whitewash.

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