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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 Republic of Rape

Under Mamata Banerjee, West Bengal has descended into a hellscape of lawlessness, political protectionism, and impunity.

West Bengal
West Bengal

In most places, a law college is a sanctuary of justice. But in West Bengal, it has become a recurring scene of barbarism. Earlier this week, a first-year law student walked into South Calcutta Law College to fill out an examination form. By nightfall, she had been dragged into a guard room, gang-raped by a criminal lawyer and two student accomplices and left bruised, broken, and traumatized. The main accused, Manojit Mishra, was no mere rogue. He is a long-time member of the Trinamool Congress’s student wing, a familiar face to ministers and reportedly shielded by senior party functionaries.


The very fact that the crime occurred inside an academic institution and not some desolate alleyway, speaks volumes about how completely the rule of law has evaporated under Mamata Banerjee’s watch. Predictably, TMC functionaries, taking a cowardly stance, are now scrambling to disown the accused, claiming he held no official post. In West Bengal, political protection often arrives not after justice is served, but to ensure it never is.


This case comes barely a year after the rape and murder of a 31-year-old trainee doctor at RG Kar Medical College, another government-run institution in Kolkata. That young woman had her face slashed, glass shards embedded in her eyes, and signs of sustained torture all over her body. There was nationwide outrage, candlelight marches and even murmurs of political accountability. But as so often happens in Bengal these days, the rage ebbed. Nothing changed. The monsters were not only among the people; they were among the powerful.


Indeed, the parallels with the horrific Sandeshkhali village are chilling. There, too, women were allegedly assaulted, harassed, and intimidated by goons aligned with the TMC. There, too, the state machinery stood inert. Only when the political costs mounted, and national attention surged, did the administration stir. Even then, it moved not to protect the victims but to contain the optics.


Banerjee, who once positioned herself as the indomitable ‘Didi’ standing up to injustice, now presides over a regime that seems both indifferent to criminality and complicit in it. Her party’s stock response to sexual violence is denial, evasion, and strategic disassociation. Her lieutenants, like parrots trained in obfuscation, issue boilerplate condemnations while quietly turning the wheels of institutional silence. If Mishra was not one of them, as the TMC now claims, then how did he continue to dominate the college four years after graduating, backed by a network of loyalists, and conveniently employed as non-teaching staff? Who gave him the audacity to act as if the college was his private fiefdom?


The rot goes deeper. The political fiefdoms that dot Bengal, whether in colleges, municipal offices or rural panchayats, function with a toxic blend of impunity and fear. The TMC, once a symbol of resistance against the CPI(M)’s authoritarianism, has become a grotesque caricature of its predecessor. Instead of cadre-led surveillance, Bengal now endures syndicate-backed lawlessness. Violence is no longer a political byproduct but governance itself.


That Mamata Banerjee continues to wrap herself in the rhetoric of “Ma, Mati, Manush” while her party harbours predators is nauseating. That she speaks of women’s empowerment while women are raped inside institutions named for justice and healing is a moral obscenity. In any functioning democracy, a chief minister presiding over such a pattern of violence would have resigned, or at least apologised. In Bengal, she blames the opposition.


The BJP, for its part, has sensed blood. With elections looming, it will hammer home the connections between the accused and the TMC leadership.


The horror in Kasba is the culmination of a culture that festers when the powerful are not held to account. The TMC’s moral collapse is now complete. What remains is a state teetering on the edge where women fear educational institutions, criminals strut as leaders and justice is just another casualty of political expediency.

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