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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.

The Battle for Baramati

Striking at the sugarcane roots of power, Ajit Pawar outflanks his uncle in Maharashtra’s cooperative heartland.

Ajit Pawar, Maharashtra’s Deputy Chief Minister and nephew of Nationalist Congress Party (NCP) founder Sharad Pawar, has delivered a stinging blow to his uncle’s legacy in Baramati. His faction’s decisive victory in the election to the Malegaon Sugar Mill, once the undisputed bastion of Sharad Pawar’s influence, is a moment loaded with symbolism and consequence. Of the 21 seats on the mill’s board, Ajit Pawar’s panel bagged 20, leaving the elder Pawar’s loyalists with nothing but the bitter taste of defeat.


On paper, this may appear to be a local contest over a single cooperative. In reality, it represents a tectonic shift in Maharashtra’s rural politics. Sugar mills in the state are not mere agro-industrial units; they are nodes of economic patronage, grassroots mobilisation, and political muscle. Control over them offers votes, resources, and the loyalty of thousands of farmer-members. The Pawars have long understood this alchemy.


Located in Baramati, the spiritual centre of the Pawar clan’s influence, the Malegaon mill has always carried outsize significance. It was through such cooperatives that Sharad Pawar built a vast rural base, marrying the mechanics of governance with the rhythms of village life. His genius has been in fusing economic upliftment with political mobilisation with sugar mills, credit societies and educational trusts becoming his levers of influence. That he has now lost grip over one of his strongest outposts suggests not just a temporary reversal, but a generational rupture.


Ajit Pawar, long seen as a sullen understudy in his uncle’s shadow, has slowly but surely been assembling his own power structure. His break from the NCP in July 2023 and subsequent alignment with the BJP and Eknath Shinde’s Shiv Sena faction marked the beginning of his open defiance. Yet, even those moves could still be dismissed as opportunism. The Malegaon win is different. It suggests that his support is no longer restricted to elected defectors; it now extends to the grassroots where Sharad Pawar once reigned supreme.


Cooperative politics in Maharashtra is the quiet machinery beneath the louder drama of Assembly and Lok Sabha elections. The mills serve not just as sources of employment or revenue but as campaign bases, vote banks, and platforms for patronage. Their board members often go on to become MLAs and MPs. Control of a cooperative means control of a constituency — sometimes more than one.


Ajit Pawar’s clean sweep at Malegaon gives him more than bragging rights. It gives him a lever to expand into neighbouring districts, to fortify his base ahead of upcoming local body elections and to woo fence-sitting leaders and factions. Already, there are reports that influential rural figures, some with long-standing ties to Sharad Pawar, backed Ajit’s panel. In a polity where loyalty is often dictated by proximity to power, the younger Pawar is emerging as the more bankable bet.


Symbolism matters too. That this upset has occurred in Baramati — the crucible of Sharad Pawar’s rise — is not lost on observers. It sends a clear message: Ajit is not just nibbling at the margins anymore, but is now claiming the core.


Still, challenges abound. The affection and deference that Sharad Pawar commands among many rural leaders, especially among the older generation, cannot be overturned overnight. Nor is Ajit’s victory a guarantee of future success. Having seized control, he must now deliver on better mill management, timely payments and cleaner governance. Cooperative members are stakeholders after all, and not just mere voters. Their loyalty comes with expectations.


Ajit must also navigate the tightrope of coalition politics. Too much reliance on the BJP could reduce him to a junior partner; too much autonomy could invite friction with his allies. The balancing act between assertion and accommodation will determine whether he consolidates his gains or squanders them.


Even so, the writing on the wall is becoming legible. In Maharashtra’s complex political grammar, where sugar and credit cooperatives often write the first draft of electoral fortunes, Ajit Pawar has begun scripting a new chapter. His win at Malegaon is a prelude to a longer campaign to inherit and redefine the Pawar legacy.


The road ahead will be fraught with resistance. But if the cooperatives continue to fall his way, Ajit Pawar could well emerge not just as a challenger to his uncle, but as the most consequential leader in Maharashtra’s rural politics in the decade to come. For now, it seems that Baramati is ready to turn the page.

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