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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.

Tesla in Mumbai is a Match Made in Traffic Hell

Updated: Mar 17, 2025


Tesla

Elon Musk’s Tesla, known for cutting-edge technology and the promise of a self-driving future, has finally arrived in Mumbai. The company envisions a world where artificial intelligence takes the wheel, reducing human error and making roads safer. It’s a noble dream—with no chance in the chaotic, lawless, and wildly unpredictable mess that is Mumbai’s traffic.


One must admire Tesla’s optimism. Bringing self-driving cars here is like teaching a fish to ride a bicycle. A vehicle relying on lane discipline, pedestrian detection, and traffic light obedience simply can’t function in a city where none of these apply. If Tesla’s engineers had done their homework, they’d know Mumbai’s roads are daily survival trials—where only the most aggressive, reckless, and lucky make it through.


Pedestrians: The Real Kings of the Road


Tesla’s system is built to spot and protect pedestrians. A great feature—if they use crossings, obey signals, or act predictably. In Mumbai, jaywalking isn’t just common; it’s a way of life.


Why wait for a crossing when you can dodge traffic like a matador facing a bull? Mumbaikars have mastered strategic jaywalking—dodging cars, trucks, and cows, all while juggling groceries or typing WhatsApp messages.


Tesla’s pedestrian detection, trained on neat American streets, may short-circuit trying to process this madness. It might stop for a group strolling across a highway—but what happens when an elderly woman steps out and raises her palm in a legally meaningless “stop” gesture? Can it grasp that in Mumbai, confidence equals right of way? Unlikely.


Rickshaws: The Three-Wheeled Nightmares


Next, Mumbai’s auto-rickshaw drivers—the true masters of chaos. If Formula 1 drivers ignored traffic laws and safety, they’d still be more cautious than this lot.


These three-wheeled daredevils squeeze through gaps, cut across five lanes without warning, and pull U-turns in peak traffic. Tesla’s autopilot may predict pedestrian movement—but can it anticipate a rickshaw suddenly swerving from Bandra toward Andheri mid-drive? Or handle a diagonal dash across a highway for a passenger? Doubtful.


Rickshaws believe they own the road. Too small to be respected by cars, too erratic to ignore, their signature move—the sudden sideways swerve—has been honed over decades. Imagine a Tesla trying to calculate whether to brake or accelerate while the rickshaw driver locks eyes with no one and changes direction at will.


Bikers: The Lords of Anarchy


If Tesla thinks it has accounted for all variables, it hasn’t met Mumbai’s bikers. Elsewhere, motorcyclists follow some rules. Here, they’ve shredded the rulebook and torched the remains.


Speeding against traffic? Normal. Bikers trust oncoming cars to move. Tesla’s collision system may detect obstacles—but will it classify a full-throttle biker as a road user or software glitch?


Footpaths? Fair game


Will Tesla expect a biker to use the footpath as a fast lane? Doubtful. Traffic lights? Mere suggestions. At red lights, bikers weave to the front and take off before green. A Tesla stopping politely will be honked at, glared at, or tapped by a biker saying, “Adjust.”


The Honking Culture: A Symphony of Noise


Tesla relies on sensors and AI. Mumbai drivers use honking. A short beep says, “Move.” A long one means, “Move or I’ll run you over.” A series means, “I’m losing it, and you’re why.”


Programmed for silence, Tesla may freeze when bombarded by honks. What if a traffic cop waves it on during a red light? Mumbai runs not on rules but on instinct and willpower.


Road Conditions: Potholes and Floods


Mumbai’s roads resemble lunar craters after light rain. Potholes emerge every monsoon, deep enough to swallow wheels.


Tesla’s suspension is built for smooth rides—not the back-breaking, axle-snapping terrain of Mumbai. Glide over American highways, sure. But here? It must dodge rickshaws, jaywalkers, and wrong-way bikers—sometimes all at once.


Then comes monsoon season, when roads vanish under water, potholes disappear, and even experienced drivers flounder. Can Tesla detect submerged craters or a drifting coconut cart? Highly doubtful.


Mumbai vs. Tesla: Who Will Win?


Tesla’s arrival is like sending a ballet dancer into a street fight. Its faith in self-driving and discipline is laughably out of place in a city run on organised chaos.


To survive, it needs a Mumbai mode—one that handles erratic lane shifts, ignores red lights when needed, and responds to honks with the right mix of aggression and indifference. Otherwise, the sleek dream will stall in traffic, honked into submission by drivers and pedestrians with no time for Silicon Valley idealism.


Welcome, Tesla, to Mumbai—where even artificial intelligence must learn to adjust.


(The author is a journalist based in Mumbai. Views personal.)

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