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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 Shrinking Age of Innocence

India’s children are growing up too fast, and their parents are scrambling to keep pace.

In an age where four-year-olds shun ‘cute’ clothes for ‘smart’ ones and kindergarteners groove to Bollywood numbers that ooze seduction rather than innocence, childhood is no longer what it used to be. A quiet revolution is reshaping India’s family dynamics. It is playing out not in hushed drawing-room conversations but on school corridors, in WhatsApp chats and on TikTok feeds. Today, the vocabulary of adolescence is romantic attachment, jealousy, sexual curiosity.


This cultural shift was laid bare in a Mumbai school recently when two girls from the secondary section approached their principal, not about academics or bullying, but to settle a grievance over a romantic entanglement. One had accused the other of trying to steal her boyfriend. If it sounds like a subplot from a sleazy high school drama, the shocking part is that such scenarios are no longer rare nor restricted to older teenagers.


Medical professionals have noted the physiological shifts underpinning this trend. Puberty, especially among girls, is arriving earlier than before, sometimes as young as seven. This precocity, however, is not only biological. It is cultural as well. The access to smartphones, streaming content and social media platforms has catapulted children into a world of adult emotions and expectations long before their brains are developmentally ready to process them.


“The loss of innocence isn’t because children are suddenly different—it’s because the world around them has sped up,” says Dr. Sachi Pandya, a psychologist at NH SRCC Children’s Hospital. While today’s parents pride themselves on being ‘open-minded’ and ‘non-judgmental,’ Dr. Pandya cautions that openness alone is not enough. “We also have to be wise,” she says. “Adolescents are still in a phase of emotional and cognitive development. Their understanding of intimacy or heartbreak is still forming.”


Children today are not merely exploring romantic relationships earlier but are actively talking about them with teachers, counsellors and parents. Unlike previous generations where secrecy and guilt were the norm, today’s children are vocal. Schools report students initiating discussions about sexual orientation, emotional struggles and peer conflicts, sometimes even demanding mediation. This newfound transparency, in theory, should make parenting easier. Yet it also means parents must step into roles they are often unprepared for: as emotional first responders, sexual-health educators and moral philosophers.


The age of innocence is shrinking, but the burdens of early maturity are real. According to Asawari Abhyankar, a teacher at an international school in Mumbai, many students in Grade 5 already have boyfriends or girlfriends. “They’re in touch with their emotions. They’re expressive and articulate. Parents, too, are more accepting, sometimes out of fear, afraid their children may spiral into drastic action if their feelings are invalidated.”


Social media and the globalisation of youth culture have accelerated this change. Concepts like prom, once alien to Indian schooling, are now common in elite institutions. Fashion shows, graduation ceremonies for kindergarteners and curated Instagram profiles are all part of growing up.


There is a cost to all this. The emotional turbulence once confined to late adolescence is now engulfing younger children. Peer pressure to be in a relationship is intense. Not having a partner is seen as abnormal. Childhood friendships are reframed through the lens of dating, and heartbreak becomes an all-too-real experience for a ten-year-old. “At a very young age, relationships are more like peer pressure,” Abhyankar explains. “And they’re missing out on the fun part of growing up as friends.”


Parents, meanwhile, are caught between modern ideals and timeless instincts. Many are supportive, even progressive, yet anxious. The dreaded “we need to talk” conversation, once reserved for late teens, is now happening while the child is still in primary school. The impulse to delay the inevitable complications of adult life now collides with a world that refuses to wait.


What is emerging is a new parenting frontier. Offering unconditional support is necessary, but so too is setting boundaries that align with a child’s emotional maturity. Experts insist that this is not about suppressing curiosity or moralising love but about timing. Relationships that arrive too early without the emotional scaffolding to support them can do more harm than good.


As India modernises and its youth get younger in behaviour and bearing, the old milestones of growth – the first crush, first heartbreak, emotional independence - have shifted. What remains to be seen is whether parents, educators and society at large can recalibrate fast enough to offer both protection and guidance. After all, childhood once lost, is hard to recover.


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