The accidental twins: Saina and Sania

In all probability when Saina Nehwal gets married, news channels will cover the wedding, as they did in the case of her accidental peer, Sania Mirza. But the similarity will be strictly skin deep. For whatever Sania's current ranking might be, and however much disappointment we may feel in the decline of one of India's most promising athletes, interest in her continues to burn bright and glow hard into the night.
Sania is the natural celebrity, a veritable junction of signs, who effortlessly emits many storylines. She is the young sassy face of India, a Muslim girl who reconciles tradition with nonchalant modernity, a glamorous achiever of substance as well as a site of male fantasy.
Sania spoke with her booming forehand, her glinting nose ring, her saucy T-shirt messages and did so with a distinctive brand of girl-woman confidence. Her decline too has the elements of a dramatic story and her marriage saga the makings of a potboiler of questionable taste. Sania secretes stories, rather than read them out to us.
If Sania speaks to us in the breathless voice of pulp fiction, Saina Nehwal speaks to us in the formal prose of achievement.
If Sania's realm is visual and sexual, Saina's appeal is textual. We understand her achievement, we know that it is remarkable, but we do not experience her as vividly as we do Sania.
Saina's story is inspiring, and she is without question a worthy role model, but she is not easy to consume. Sania projects herself outwards into our lives and we believe that we can acquire some piece of her aura while Saina is contained within herself, content to let her racquet do the talking.
And that is the other difference. Saina rules in a sport that is watched by few; most Indians would be hard pressed to name any badminton player in the world. Her achievement is a statistic to most of India.
More importantly, badminton is a sport that is dominated by Asian countries. Given our current obsession with being recognised by the West, winning in a sport like badminton is simply not rewarding enough.
Besides, the two sports emit vastly different signs in spite of a surface similarity in their structures. If tennis, particularly the kind played by Sania, resembles artillery with a booming appetite for power, badminton is closer to fencing with its emphasis on crafty placements and sly feints. Victory is eked out, step by clever step in a cat-and-mouse game of grace and perseverance.
Badminton champions tend to be self-effacing craftsmen, whereas tennis breeds an expressive form of rockstar magnificence.
Even so, Saina is going to win many endorsement contracts and is likely to be seen often on television and in ads. We are hungry for heroes and for people who represent the idea of an India that can challenge the world on equal terms. Besides, she represents a strong idea, one that emphasises that the path to greatness does not have to pass through the teeming marketplace of celebrityhood.
But strong as the idea is, it is almost by definition, somewhat of an outsider in the world of brands and media as it is currently defined. Saina's story is a powerful one, but her persona is not particularly communicative. In a world where we consume images rather than actions, Saina is a brand ambassador above all for herself and the idea of sport.
In some ways, she is a real brand which it difficult for her to rub off on other brands. That is both her triumph and in purely commercial terms, her tragedy.