In a country obsessed with cricket and cinema, Prof. Mayank Shrivastava of IISc Bengaluru has dared to ask the uncomfortable question: Can we build new IITs by just watching the IPL? His anguish is not misplaced. It’s a wake-up call that cuts through the noise of national pride built on celebrity, spectacle, and slogans. Prof. Shrivastava, one of India’s top researchers, rightly argues that India doesn’t lack money. Indians certainly don’t. What we sorely lack is vision—the political will and societal priority to invest in our future, in science, and in institutions that create long-term national value. And the numbers back him. The Indian Premier League (IPL) raked in a staggering ₹11,770 crore in 2023 alone. Over three years, the league’s profits could total close to ₹15,000 crore. That’s not counting what franchises pocket—₹800 to ₹1,200 crore annually. The Centre, in theory, could collect at least ₹6,000 crore in taxes each year just from this cricketing behemoth. Yet, the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI), the world’s richest sports body, pays no income tax. Why? Because it still enjoys a “charitable” status. Let that sink in. The BCCI, which auctions media rights for billions and profits off sponsorships, is considered a charity. Meanwhile, a publicly funded research lab developing cutting-edge technology is forced to pay GST on microscopes, lasers, and labware. The tools of science are taxed; the toys of entertainment are not.
“Entertainment is subsidised. Research is taxed,” says Dr. Shrivastava. It’s not rhetoric. It’s reality. Tax breaks rain down on religious trusts, film productions, and sports leagues. But scientists beg for funding, write grant proposals for months, and cut corners to purchase a single imported instrument. This is not just about revenue collection. This is about national priorities. Every government beats the drum of “Viksit Bharat” and “Tech Superpower India,” but what’s the budgetary proof? Can a nation become a technology leader while taxing microscopes but sparing match tickets? Can we dream of creating the next Google, SpaceX, or NVIDIA while ignoring the ecosystem that produces inventors and thinkers? The question is not whether cricket is popular—it is, and will remain so. The issue is why the State has turned into a cheerleader for entertainment and a bystander to education. We celebrate sixes and centuries, but who celebrates scientists and scholars? When a cricketer gets a Padma Shri for winning a game, and a world-class innovator fights to get lab funding, we know the imbalance is systemic. If India dared to tax profits from the IPL and channel even a fraction into education and research, we could build 10 new IITs in a decade. Imagine the human capital. Imagine the innovation. Imagine the message it would send to our youth—that ideas matter more than endorsements. Prof. Shrivastava’s anguish is the anguish of every serious academic in this country. He’s not attacking cricket. He’s attacking hypocrisy. It’s time the country listens—not just during a World Cup final, but when a scientist dares to speak truth to power.
