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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.

Statehood for Mithila: Political Gambit or Cultural Necessity?

Statehood for Mithila

RJD leader Rabri Devi’s renewed demand for Mithila statehood has electrified Bihar’s political discourse, spotlighting a region long celebrated for its cultural richness yet stymied by poverty and chronic neglect. By raising the prospect of statehood for Mithilanchal—a region spanning 20 districts and home to one-third of Bihar’s population—the former Chief Minister has laid down a political gauntlet, aimed squarely at the BJP-led NDA.


Her call coincides with the Centre’s release of a Maithili translation of the Constitution, a move that BJP leaders have touted as a gesture of respect for the Maithili-speaking populace.


The Mithila region is a paradox. Renowned globally for its Madhubani art and its cultural legacy, it suffers from abysmal socio-economic indicators. Recurrent floods devastate its agrarian economy, and a burgeoning population exacerbates its struggles. The demand for Mithila statehood, first articulated in 1912 during the bifurcation of Bihar from Bengal, has simmered on the margins of public discourse for decades, championed intermittently by cultural activists and regional leaders. Rabri Devi’s intervention marks the first time a senior, non-Mithila politician has embraced the cause.


The inclusion of Maithili in the Eighth Schedule in 2003 was a milestone, celebrated as the culmination of a century-long struggle for linguistic identity, championed by activists and backed by political leaders. Yet, two decades later, promises of development and cultural revival remain unfulfilled. Maithili has languished, with token measures like primary school instruction and support for the Maithili Academy falling by the wayside due to lack of funds and political will. This neglect stems from a calculated resistance to dilute Hindi’s dominance.


The Mithilanchal gambit also plays directly into Bihar’s electoral matrix. With Mithilanchal accounting for over 100 of the state’s 243 assembly seats, the RJD-led Opposition bloc is clearly eyeing a pivotal region where the BJP has a significant foothold. By championing statehood, the RJD seeks to upend the BJP’s narrative, positioning itself as the true custodian of Maithili aspirations. The BJP, which has historically touted its commitment to cultural pride—having added Maithili to the Eighth Schedule under Atal Bihari Vajpayee—may find itself on the defensive.


The call for statehood is not without its ironies. Rabri Devi’s husband, Lalu Prasad Yadav, famously opposed the creation of Jharkhand, declaring its bifurcation from Bihar would happen only over his dead body. When Jharkhand was ultimately carved out in 2000 under pressure from Congress, Lalu’s political authority was dented. Rabri Devi now faces a similar reckoning. Would the creation of Mithila invigorate the region or further fragment Bihar’s administrative and economic capabilities?


The BJP’s immediate response has been tepid, with leaders emphasizing the cultural value of the Maithili Constitution but avoiding the politically volatile statehood debate. This silence may not hold for long, as the INDIA bloc, of which the RJD is a key member, appears poised to amplify the demand ahead of the 2025 elections. Tejashwi Yadav, Rabri Devi’s son and the Leader of the Opposition in the Assembly, has already proposed the establishment of a Mithila Development Authority, signalling the RJD’s intent to anchor its campaign in the aspirations of Mithilanchal.


Yet, practical hurdles loom large. Statehood would require not just political consensus within Bihar but also approval from the Centre, which has been reticent about new state creations in recent years. Moreover, could Mithila sustain itself independently, or would it require substantial federal assistance, potentially mirroring Jharkhand’s struggles post-bifurcation?


The RJD’s gambit seeks to transform an enduring cultural aspiration into a potent political strategy. Rabri Devi’s call has revived an old question: Is statehood the panacea for regional neglect, or does it risk compounding the challenges of governance?

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