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By:

Rajendra Pandharpure

15 April 2025 at 2:25:54 pm

Pune’s changing political guard

After an eight-year hiatus, the municipal elections promise to usher in a new cohort of politicians and reset the city’s political rhythms Pune:  The long-delayed civic polls herald a generational shift in Pune, arguably Maharashtra’s most politically vibrant city. When voters return to the booths in December, they will be resetting the circuitry of local power. The last municipal elections were held in 2017. Since then, the city’s politics have drifted into a liminal space. The Pune...

Pune’s changing political guard

After an eight-year hiatus, the municipal elections promise to usher in a new cohort of politicians and reset the city’s political rhythms Pune:  The long-delayed civic polls herald a generational shift in Pune, arguably Maharashtra’s most politically vibrant city. When voters return to the booths in December, they will be resetting the circuitry of local power. The last municipal elections were held in 2017. Since then, the city’s politics have drifted into a liminal space. The Pune Municipal Corporation’s (PMC) term expired in May 2022, but the state dithered, leaving India’s seventh-largest city without elected urban governance for almost three years. With the prospect of polls repeatedly deferred, many former corporators had since quietly receded from the daily grind of politics, returning to business interests or simply losing relevance. When the long-pending reservation lottery for civic wards was finally conducted recently, it delivered another shock: dozens of established male aspirants discovered that their seats had vanished from under them. New guard All this has created an unusual political vacuum that younger leaders are eager to fill. Parties across the spectrum, from the BJP to the Congress to the NCP factions, are preparing to field fresher faces. Regardless of who wins, Pune seems destined to witness the rise of a new political class. The churn is already visible. In the 2024 Lok Sabha election, both the BJP’s Murlidhar Mohol and the Congress’s then-candidate Ravindra Dhangekar were relative newcomers to national politics. The city’s Assembly seats have also produced new faces in recent years, including Hemant Rasne and Sunil Kamble. Ajit Pawar’s Nationalist Congress Party elevated Subhash Jagtap and Sunil Tingre to leadership roles, giving them a platform to shape the party’s urban strategy. Even the Aam Aadmi Party (AAP), a peripheral entity in Pune’s political landscape, is preparing to contest the civic polls with a wholly new leadership slate. The party most uneasy about this transition may be the Congress. Despite routinely polling between 550,000 and 600,000 votes in the city, it has struggled to convert electoral presence into organisational revival. As the Bihar election results were being announced recently, one Pune resident summed up a sentiment widely shared among Congress sympathisers: the party has votes, but not enough dynamic young leaders to carry them. The question, as he put it, is not whether the youth can help the Congress, but whether the Congress will let them. Rewind to the early 2000s, and Pune’s political landscape looked very different. The Congress then had a formidable bench which included Suresh Kalmadi, Chandrakant Shivarkar, Mohan Joshi, Ramesh Bagwe and Abhay Chhajed. The BJP had Pradeep Rawat, Anil Shirole, Girish Bapat, Vijay Kale, Vishwas Gangurde and Dilip Kamble. Sharad Pawar’s NCP, then ascendant, rested on leaders like Ajit Pawar, Ankush Kakade, Vandana Chavan and Ravi Malvadkar. But the 2014 BJP wave flattened the hierarchy. The Congress crumbled; Kalmadi and Rawat faded from view; Gangurde exited the stage. The BJP replaced its old guard with Medha Kulkarni, and then Mukta Tilak, Chandrakant Patil, Bhimrao Tapkir, Madhuri Misal and Jagdish Mulik. Now, as Pune approaches the end of 2025, even Mohol - the BJP’s rising star - risks appearing ‘senior’ in a political landscape tilting toward younger contenders. Demographics are accelerating the shift. Given that Pune’s last civic polls took place eight years ago, an entire cohort of voters since then has reached adulthood. They cast their first ballots in the recent Lok Sabha and Assembly elections; now they will vote in municipal elections for the first time. Their concerns include urban mobility, climate resilience, digital governance, employment differ sharply from the older generation’s priorities. Their political loyalties, still fluid, are likely to crystallise around leaders who can speak to these new anxieties. The coming election promises a radical change in Pune’s political ecosystem. Long dominated by legacy figures, that ecosystem is set for nothing less than a generational reset. The departure of veteran leaders, the decennial rebalancing of parties, and the impatience of a newly enfranchised urban youth all point towards a younger, more competitive, and possibly more unpredictable political order. Whether this transition will deliver better governance remains to be seen. But one thing is clear: the next generation seems determined not to wait another eight years to make itself heard.

A Juggernaut Called Jemimah Rodrigues

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Jemimah Rodrigues – the cricketing equivalent of that friend who shows up to the party in sweatpants, cracks a dad joke that somehow lands, and then accidentally wins the beer pong tournament. In a sport where Indian women batters are expected to channel the ghosts of Tendulkar and Laxman while dodging curveballs from selectors faster than a rickshaw in Mumbai traffic, Jemimah has carved out a career that’s equal parts fairy tale, farce, and feel-good redemption arc. At 26, she’s the right-handed firecracker who’s just slapped Australia – yes, those Aussies, the ones who treat opposition bowlers like piñatas at a kid’s birthday bash – into semi-final submission at the 2025 Women’s World Cup. But let’s rewind the VHS of her life, shall we? Because if cricket teaches us anything, it’s that highs come with more plot twists than a Karan Johar movie, and Jemimah’s reel is a blockbuster begging for popcorn.


Picture this: It’s 2017, and a 17-year-old Jemimah from Bhandup – that unpretentious Mumbai suburb where dreams are forged in the sweat of local maidans – unleashes hell on Saurashtra in an Under-19 one-dayer. She smashes 202 not out off 163 balls, becoming only the second woman after Smriti Mandhana to notch a double ton in 50-over cricket. It’s the kind of knock that makes coaches spill their chai and scouts scribble her name in permanent marker. By 2018, she’s debuting for India in T20Is against Sri Lanka, followed by ODIs versus England, and suddenly, the nation’s got a new poster girl for prodigy power-hitting. Fast-forward to the 2022 Commonwealth Games, where she helps snag gold, and her ODI stats start looking like a motivational quote: 1,472 runs in 53 matches at an average north of 32, with two centuries and a highest of 123. Awards? She’s got the Jagmohan Dalmiya for best junior domestic batter and a “Breakthrough Performance” nod that screams “future GOAT-in-training.” Highs like these aren’t just career milestones; they’re the cricket gods high-fiving her mid-air, whispering, “Kid, you’re onto something big.”


But oh, the lows – because nothing says “welcome to elite sport” like the universe handing you a participation trophy made of quicksand. Jemimah’s dips read like a tragicomedy scripted by a selector with a grudge. Early on, she was the U-19 queen bee, averaging over 100 with bat and ball (19 wickets as an off-spinner, because why not multitask?). Yet, as she graduated to the big leagues, the inconsistencies crept in like uninvited aunties at a wedding. Dropped from the ODI side more times than I’ve dropped my phone in the loo, she grappled with form that flickered like Diwali lights on a budget. T20Is? Solid, with her aggressive strokeplay turning bowlers into bewildered therapists. But the longer formats? Cue the existential crisis. And then, the real gut-punch: anxiety, that sneaky villain who turns sixes into self-doubt spirals.


Just before the 2025 World Cup, Jemimah hit rock bottom – or as she put it, “I was crying every day.” Dropped from the team amid a rough patch, she confessed to phoning her mom in tears, battling intrusive thoughts that made every net session feel like a therapy couch audition. “When you get dropped, a lot of voices start playing in your head,” she shared post-heroics, her voice cracking like a teenager’s during exams. It’s the unglamorous side of stardom: the pressure cooker of expectations where one bad tournament can make you question if you’re batting for India or just against your own mirror. Jemimah’s lows weren’t flashy failures – no infamous ducks here – but the slow-burn kind, where potential meets the pavement, and you’re left wondering if the pitch is tilted or if it’s just you.


Enter the controversies, because what’s a cricketer’s bio without a dash of tabloid spice? Jemimah’s big scandal hit in October 2024, when Mumbai’s posh Khar Gymkhana – that colonial-era club where memberships cost more than my annual grocery bill – yanked her three-year associate status faster than you can say “foreigner on the green.” The culprit? Her dad, Ivan Rodrigues, a pastor accused of hosting unauthorised “spiritual sessions” (read: Christian prayer meetings) on club turf, sparking wild rumours of forced conversions. Right-wing handles piled on, turning a family faith flare-up into a national circus, with Jemimah caught in the crossfire like a fielder dodging a rogue throw. The club cited “concerns,” but let’s call it what it was: a witch hunt wrapped in bylaws, where her evangelical roots clashed with khaki-short snobbery. Jemimah stayed mum publicly, but the sting lingered – a year later, it’s poetic justice that the same nation now toasts her as a hero, her bat silencing the trolls louder than any press conference could.


And speaking of toasts: Fast-forward to October 2025, World Cup semi-final against Australia. India needs 339 – a chase that sounds like “abandon hope, all ye who enter here.” Enter Jemimah at No. 3, dropped twice (on 82 and 106, because cricket loves drama), yet unfazed, she grinds out an unbeaten 127 off 140 balls, anchoring the impossible. Teary-eyed in the post-match huddle, she spills: “Anxiety nearly broke me, but my teammates pulled me through.” It’s the stuff of legends – from gymkhana outcast to World Cup wrist-slapper, proving resilience isn’t just a buzzword; it’s her superpower.


So, what’s my hot take on Jemimah Rodrigues? In a women’s game that’s exploding like fireworks at India’s 75th Republic Day – yet still begging for the spotlight it deserves – she’s the unfiltered gem we need.


(The writer is a senior journalist based in Mumbai. Views personal.)

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