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By:

Abhijit Mulye

21 August 2024 at 11:29:11 am

NDA power matrix reshaped after success

AI generated image Mumbai: A quiet coup in the state has triggered a loud shift in the power dynamics of the nation’s capital. By engineering the defection of six additional MPs, Deputy Chief Minister Eknath Shinde has nearly doubled his parliamentary muscle, transforming his Shiv Sena faction from a junior regional partner into an indispensable pillar of the NDA. Now sitting on a commanding 13 seats, Shinde has dramatically increased his political leverage—leaving a cautious BJP to weigh the...

NDA power matrix reshaped after success

AI generated image Mumbai: A quiet coup in the state has triggered a loud shift in the power dynamics of the nation’s capital. By engineering the defection of six additional MPs, Deputy Chief Minister Eknath Shinde has nearly doubled his parliamentary muscle, transforming his Shiv Sena faction from a junior regional partner into an indispensable pillar of the NDA. Now sitting on a commanding 13 seats, Shinde has dramatically increased his political leverage—leaving a cautious BJP to weigh the cost of an emboldened ally demanding a bigger slice of the pie in both the Union and state cabinets. In a masterstroke of political engineering that has profoundly jolted political landscape, Shinde has once again demonstrated his formidable capacity for disruption. The rebellion of six out of nine Lok Sabha Members of Parliament from the Uddhav Thackeray-led Shiv Sena (UBT), ostensibly joining Shinde’s ranks under the banner of “Operation Tiger,” is not merely a regional skirmish. It is a calculated power play that reverberates through the highest corridors of power in New Delhi. By nearly doubling his party’s strength in the lower house from seven to thirteen MPs, Shinde has dramatically altered his own political trajectory, elevating his faction from a helpful regional ally to an indispensable pillar of the National Democratic Alliance (NDA). Shinde’s Stature The immediate consequence of this crossover is a massive surge in Shinde’s stature within the NDA hierarchy. With thirteen parliamentarians, his Shiv Sena is now poised to become the fourth-largest bloc in the ruling national coalition, sitting just behind the Bharatiya Janata Party, the Telugu Desam Party, and the newly formed Nationalist Citizens Party of India. This numerical leap is of immense strategic value to the BJP-led central government. In a parliamentary environment where the ruling coalition possesses only a modest majority, every single seat counts. The central leadership is acutely aware of upcoming legislative hurdles, particularly ambitious constitutional amendments like the proposed delimitation bill, which will require a formidable two-thirds majority. By acting as the architect of this crucial numerical boost, Shinde has cemented his reputation as a reliable and highly effective operator for the NDA, significantly increasing his bargaining power and political leverage. National Relief For the BJP, this development evokes a complex mixture of profound national relief and acute regional anxiety. From the vantage point of PM Narendra Modi and Union Home Minister Amit Shah, Shinde’s successful poaching operation is a clear windfall. It simultaneously fortifies the NDA’s numerical strength in New Delhi while severely crippling a vocal opposition force in Maharashtra. The central BJP leadership views Shinde as a vital asset capable of bridging the gap between their current numbers and the overwhelming mandates of the past. However, the perspective from the Maharashtra BJP headquarters is noticeably more apprehensive. State BJP leaders openly acknowledge Shinde’s soaring political equity, but they are increasingly wary of his expanding ambitions. They recognize that an emboldened Shinde, eager to fill the political vacuum left by Uddhav Thackeray and a fragmented Nationalist Congress Party, will aggressively attempt to expand his footprint across the state, potentially encroaching upon the BJP’s own traditional support bases. Power Sharing This dramatically enhanced political heft immediately raises pressing questions regarding power-sharing arrangements, both at the Centre and in the state. Armed with thirteen MPs, Shinde’s camp is undoubtedly preparing to seek greater political rewards. In the Union Cabinet, his demand for an additional, high-profile ministerial berth is now backed by solid arithmetic. Given his heightened utility to the national coalition, the BJP high command is highly likely to accommodate this request during the next cabinet reshuffle. However, the power struggle within the Maharashtra state cabinet promises to be far more contentious. Shinde, who had to settle for the Deputy Chief Ministership behind Devendra Fadnavis following the last assembly elections, may now feel emboldened to petition the BJP leadership for the top job. The BJP’s state unit is actively preparing to fiercely resist any such demand. Senior BJP leaders are quick to emphasize that despite his parliamentary gains, Shinde’s legislative strength in the state assembly hovers around 57 MLAs, dwarfed by the BJP’s commanding 132 legislators. Consequently, conceding the Chief Minister’s chair remains highly improbable. Instead, the BJP will be forced into a delicate balancing act, likely appeasing Shinde by granting his faction a larger share of influential, heavyweight portfolios within the state government to keep the alliance stable. Ultimately, through sheer political audacity, Eknath Shinde has ensured that neither New Delhi nor Mumbai can afford to govern without catering to his increasingly formidable political weight.

Bridge to nowhere

The tragic collapse of a rusty footbridge in Pune district exposes Maharashtra’s decaying infrastructure, unregulated tourism and political cynicism.

Pune: The recent crumbling of an iron footbridge over the Indrayani River in Kundmala, Maval taluka, killing four and injuring several more, has become yet another symbol of the convergence between state negligence and India’s runaway tourism boom. As monsoon-swollen waters rushed beneath it, the 470-foot-long, 4-foot-wide relic of the past gave way under the weight of more than a hundred tourists and five motorcycles, many of them leaning over to take in the view or a selfie.


That such a structure, known to be corroded and clearly marked as unsafe, was still being used by the public is damning enough. But the bridge’s collapse is merely the latest consequence of a wider malaise in Maharashtra’s governance: a combination of infrastructural decay, political opportunism and a tourism culture that now borders on addiction.


Local authorities have done little to dispel the impression of ineptitude. Deputy Chief Minister Ajit Pawar said the bridge was “old and rusted” while blaming crowding caused its collapse. This was an admission of administrative failure cloaked in bureaucratic vagueness. Even more tellingly, it was revealed that Rs. 8 crore (roughly $1 million) had been sanctioned for a new bridge before the last state elections. Yet, according to local villagers and opposition leaders, not a single pile of concrete was laid. Only survey markings were made.


Mukund Kirdat of the Aam Aadmi Party has accused the ruling BJP of mere tokenism. Sanjay Raut of the Shiv Sena (UBT) demanding both Ajit Pawar and local MLA Sunil Shelke be held directly accountable. Their allegations find ample support in the facts on the ground. In 2022, then Public Works Minister Ravindra Chavan reportedly ordered a proposal for a new bridge. Nothing came of it.


Thus, the public was left with a metal husk, rusting and visibly weakening, despite repeated warnings. A police signboard cautioning against crowding and vehicular use was found buried under the debris. A concerned citizen even tipped off the police hours before the collapse that the bridge was dangerously overcrowded. Officers briefly intervened and left. The crowds, naturally, returned.


That said, the heedlessness of tourists was also evident. Lured by social media reels and the promise of ‘nature escapes,’ many rode two-wheelers onto the narrow bridge or leaned precariously over its edges for photographs. A flimsy bridge can be condemned and roped off, but in the face of viral content and a long weekend, such barriers are easily ignored.


A wider phenomenon

The tragedy at Kundmala is symptomatic of a subtler, wider phenomenon that is the post-pandemic tourism craze that has gripped India’s middle class. Once confined to occasional holidays, urban wanderlust has become compulsive. Every long weekend sees highways out of Pune and Mumbai choked with SUVs heading to forts, dams and nature retreats in the Western Ghats. The once-quiet hill stations of Panchgani, Wai and Lonavala now witness gridlocks every Saturday and Sunday. Local police forces are overwhelmed.


This influx has transformed the rural economy. In districts like Maval, agriculture is increasingly sidelined in favour of roadside dhabas, Airbnb-style farmhouses and ‘eco-resorts’ with little ecological grounding. While a veneer of prosperity has emerged, the primary beneficiaries are often politically connected landowners or local elites. Farmhouses, according to some insiders, double as venues for political hospitality offering entertainment, and occasionally more, to grease the wheels of bureaucratic favour.


The Lavasa and Aamby Valley projects near Pune demonstrated the early convergence of real estate and escapism. Their partial successes have inspired copycats across Maharashtra. Landowners, eager to cash in, plaster the region with hoardings promising “nature with luxury.” Meanwhile, their haphazard development often flouts zoning rules, water limits and safety norms. The authorities either look the other way or are complicit.


Imposed restrictions

District Collector Jitendra Dudi has now imposed restrictions around popular hotspots like Bhushi Dam and Sinhagad, hoping to curb accidents during the rainy season. He has appealed to tourists to stay away from dangerous zones, including Kundmala, where 14 people have died since 2005. But such appeals rarely suffice against a cultural shift that prizes Instagram moments over personal safety.


Tourism, if properly regulated, can indeed benefit rural communities. But the problem in Maharashtra (and India more broadly) is that such regulation is often reactive, not preventive. Safety audits of existing structures are rare. Crowd-control measures are minimal. Warning signs are ignored. Planning is dictated by the electoral calendar, not public need.


The Kundmala bridge collapse was not an act of God. It was an entirely preventable tragedy, made inevitable by indifference. It reveals, in miniature, how India’s obsession with growth and spectacle, whether in infrastructure or leisure, often overlooks the prosaic but essential work of maintenance and regulation.


If the state government is serious about preventing another such disaster, it must do more than sanction funds. It must spend them and then build and it must regulate crowds before they form. Tourism may fuel the local economy, but if left ungoverned, it will continue to erode the very foundations on which it stands.


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