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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.

Why Pune matters to the balance of power

As the BJP gears up to dominate Pune’s civic elections, opposition parties, hitherto fractured at the state level, are finding common cause on the streets.

Pune: The municipal elections in Pune, Maharashtra’s cultural capital, are months away. Yet the city already feels like a political battlefield. Campaign machinery has been quietly whirring, alliances are being tested, and every civic dispute has taken on the air of a proxy war. For the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), the contest is existential: the party aims to secure at least 110 seats in the Pune Municipal Corporation, thereby cementing its grip on one of India’s most influential urban centres. For the opposition - divided between factions, egos and shifting loyalties - the stakes are equally high. Pune has become the testing ground for whether Maharashtra’s opposition can overcome fragmentation and mount a credible challenge to the BJP’s dominance.


Beneath the veneer of unity of the ruling Mahayuti - a coalition of the BJP, the Eknath Shinde-led Shiv Sena and the Ajit Pawar-led Nationalist Congress Party (NCP) – lies suspicion. Opposition leaders and political observers say that cracks are widening even if BJP stalwarts dismiss this as media mischief. In Pune, however, the lack of coordination is hard to ignore. The BJP’s meticulous preparations for the polls have set off alarm bells among its allies, whose cadres complain of being sidelined in the ward-restructuring process, overseen by the city’s administration. Pawar and Shinde loyalists, meanwhile, are scrambling for influence in the urban development department, fearful of ceding the city’s levers to their more muscular partner.


If the Mahayuti looks shaky, the rival Maharashtra Vikas Aghadi (MVA) - the opposition coalition of the Congress, Sharad Pawar’s NCP (SP) and Uddhav Thackeray’s Shiv Sena (UBT) - is finding uncharacteristic moments of unity. This moment of unusual cohesion came on August 6, when Kishor Shinde, a former corporator from Raj Thackeray’s Maharashtra Navnirman Sena (MNS), clashed with Pune’s Municipal Commissioner. A police case against Shinde for obstructing official work swiftly spiralled into a citywide controversy. The MNS, long a fringe force, found unexpected solidarity from Congress, Shiv Sena (UBT) and Sharad Pawar loyalists.


Protest marches ensued, drawing in leaders across the opposition spectrum. Most strikingly, the episode brought together Raj Thackeray and his estranged cousin Uddhav whose newfound proximity hinted at a tactical rapprochement. For many observers, it was the clearest signal yet that Pune’s civic skirmishes are knitting together disparate opposition strands.


Other flashpoints

Other flashpoints have fuelled this sense of convergence. In Kothrud, the police were accused of detaining and harassing two young women while refusing to register their complaint. The Vanchit Bahujan Aghadi, a party representing Dalits and backward communities, staged a sit-in. Rohit Pawar of the Sharad Pawar faction joined the protest, spending the night at the police station. His presence, alongside activists, underscored how civic grievances are being weaponised as platforms for opposition unity.


The BJP, too, has leaned on agitation politics. Recently, BJP MLA Yogesh Tilekar led a protest over the construction of a dargah (Sufi shrine) in Pune’s Mukund Nagar, despite lacking police permission. Muslim and Dalit groups staged counter-protests, citing the site’s historical significance. The standoff echoed earlier communal tensions in Yavat, a satellite town, where clashes prompted police to fire tear gas. Ajit Pawar, in damage control mode, visited Yavat and urged residents to uphold its progressive traditions. His intervention calmed tempers, but also signalled how combustible religious disputes have become in the state’s electoral climate.


The net effect of these episodes has been paradoxical. On the one hand, they reveal Pune’s civic sphere being hijacked by partisan rivalry, where every administrative decision - from ward boundaries to police complaints - is filtered through the lens of political one-upmanship. On the other, they highlight a rare if fragile pattern: opposition parties that squabble elsewhere are, at least in Pune, beginning to align against a common adversary.


Political bellwether

This is hardly coincidence. Pune, with its educated middle class, deep networks of cooperative institutions, and growing corporate clout, is a bellwether of urban politics in Maharashtra. Whoever controls the civic body not only gains access to lucrative contracts and patronage networks, but also shapes the narrative of competence in a state that remains India’s second-largest economy. For the BJP, a strong showing would signal that its formula of centralised planning, Hindutva mobilisation and administrative muscle continues to resonate. For the opposition, a symbolic victory in Pune could serve as proof that the BJP’s dominance is not invincible and that tactical unity, however uncomfortable, can pay electoral dividends.


Whether this unity will endure beyond street protests is uncertain. The MVA still suffers from trust deficits and the Congress lacks organisational muscle in many wards. The MNS, unpredictable as ever, could retreat from alliances as quickly as it embraces them. On the ruling side, Ajit Pawar and Eknath Shinde must balance their survival against a partner (BJP) adept at swallowing allies whole.


Pune’s civic elections have become more than a contest over roads and drains. They are a microcosm of Maharashtra’s political future: a state where protests over police apathy, religious shrines, or municipal turf wars quickly become dress rehearsals for larger battles.


As the campaign season heats up, the question that lingers is whether Pune is merely a stage for routine civic elections, or is it the crucible in which Maharashtra’s next political realignment will be forged?

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