top of page

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 Elusive Terrorists: Why it takes Time, Toil, and a Toll to Get Them

In Part 1 of this article, we explore how, even three weeks after the Pahalgam massacre, the terrorists remain at large in the forest above Baisaran.

Fifteen days after 26 tourists were brutally killed in Pahalgam, India launched "Operation Sindoor" in retaliation, but the attackers remain at large. This article examines the complexities of counter-terror ops, the challenges faced by security forces, and why defeating terrorism takes more than sheer numbers.


Around 198 km of International Boundary (IB) separates Pakistan’s Sialkot-Shakargarh plains from Jammu-Kathua in J&K. This sector is marked by uneven terrain, seasonal nullahs, boulder-strewn rivulets, perennial rivers, and dense wild grass, making surveillance and control difficult.


The Border Security Force (BSF) mans the first tier along the IB, deploying Border Outposts (BOPs) along the border fence. These BOPs send out ambush teams and checkpoints (“Nakas”) to prevent illegal crossings and infiltration.


Pakistan has long exploited this stretch for infiltration, especially after the Anti-Intrusion Obstacle System (AIOS) was built along the Line of Control (LoC) from Akhnoor to Gurez between 2003 and 2005. With the LoC better secured, the IB sector remains more vulnerable.


Unlike the LoC, the Army has no permanent deployment here. Units rotate from peace stations for training and operate along the “Ditch-cum-Bund” defensive line. During this phase, they patrol, ambush, and monitor the area as a second tier of counter-infiltration. However, the sector still has gaps and lacks the depth and density for full control.


Pakistan sees this route as a quicker, less contested path to Doda, Kishtwar, and the Kashmir Valley. Overground Workers (OGWs) assist infiltrators at pick-up points along the Pathankot-Jammu highway, hiding them in trucks bound for the Valley. With hundreds of trucks daily, thorough checks are nearly impossible without specific intel. While a few terror-laden trucks have been caught, such cases are rare. This is how Muhammad Umar Farooq, the Pulwama bomber, reached South Kashmir in April 2018, months before assembling the car bomb used in the February 2019 CRPF convoy attack.


Beyond the International Boundary (IB), the Line of Control (LoC) runs 475 km from Akhnoor to Gurez, with another 300 km through Ladakh’s rugged terrain. The Indian Army is heavily deployed along the LoC, with the BSF covering low-threat areas. The aim is to hold key ground and deter Pakistani attempts to alter the LoC and threaten India’s territorial integrity.


Still, not every stretch can be physically held. Gaps are covered through patrols, ambushes, surveillance, and firepower. A second tier runs along the Anti-Infiltration Obstacle System (AIOS), or “the Fence,” which acts as a tripwire against infiltration. Though well-lit at night, like the IB fencing, patches of darkness remain.


The LoC and AIOS have a stronger troop presence than the IB sector, but determined infiltrators can still find gaps. Rugged mountains, dense vegetation, and forested slopes aid infiltration and make sealing all routes nearly impossible. Snow, harsh cold, and poor weather further reduce surveillance effectiveness, limiting visibility and increasing infiltration risks.


Long tenures on the LoC and AIOS for the Army, or in border guarding for the BSF, take a toll on soldiers, affecting operational efficiency. Some ask why we don’t deploy more troops to plug every gap, but resources are limited. Each soldier adds financial strain—equipment, housing, and pay.


Thousands of infiltrators have been eliminated over the years, and many more will be if Pakistan refuses to change course. Yet, despite our intent, training, and professionalism, infiltration cannot be stopped entirely due to several challenges.


Equally vital is a strong third tier for counter-terrorism in the hinterland, covering towns, nearby forests, and high ground. Infiltrators aim to reach these areas for shelter, support, radicalisation, and attacks. They link up with local terrorists who haven’t crossed over for training. These locals and OGWs act as their eyes and ears, key to their survival and operations.


Hunting a small group of terrorists in vast forested mountains is like finding a needle in a haystack. Security forces deploy in large numbers, splitting into small teams to cover ground and block escape routes. More troops risk losing surprise; fewer reduce the chances of locating the hideout, even with intelligence narrowing the search to a one-square-kilometre area.


If terrorists remain hidden, troops can pass metres away without spotting them. Steep slopes, caves, boulders, dense canopy, and uneven terrain complicate searches. If fired upon, troops must respond carefully to avoid friendly fire. Terrorists, however, can fire freely, with terrain shielding them from return fire.


At night, visibility drops, making coordination and response harder, giving terrorists the advantage. Drones offer real-time data, but spotting terrorists among troops, villagers, or animals is difficult. Thermal images can mislead, and equipment often falters in bad weather or from wear.


Operations can’t continue indefinitely—fatigue sets in after 72–96 hours, requiring rotation. Fresh teams need orientation and coordination to maintain momentum. The odds in forest operations favour the terrorists. Yet, search-and-destroy missions have yielded success in the past and will continue to, albeit with occasional losses.


(The author is an Indian Army veteran and Vice President CRM, ANSEC HR Services Ltd. He is a skydiver and a specialist in Security & Risk Management. Views personal.)

Comments

bottom of page