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By:

Abhijit Mulye

21 August 2024 at 11:29:11 am

The Unequal Cousins

Raj Thackeray’s ‘sacrifice’ saved Shiv Sena (UBT) but sank the MNS Mumbai: In the volatile theatre of Maharashtra politics, the long-awaited reunion of the Thackeray cousins on the campaign trail was supposed to be the masterstroke that reclaimed Mumbai. The results of the Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation (BMC) elections, however, tell a story of tragic asymmetry. While the alliance has successfully helped the Shiv Sena (UBT) stem the saffron tide and regain lost ground, it has left Raj...

The Unequal Cousins

Raj Thackeray’s ‘sacrifice’ saved Shiv Sena (UBT) but sank the MNS Mumbai: In the volatile theatre of Maharashtra politics, the long-awaited reunion of the Thackeray cousins on the campaign trail was supposed to be the masterstroke that reclaimed Mumbai. The results of the Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation (BMC) elections, however, tell a story of tragic asymmetry. While the alliance has successfully helped the Shiv Sena (UBT) stem the saffron tide and regain lost ground, it has left Raj Thackeray’s Maharashtra Navnirman Sena (MNS) staring at an existential crisis. The final tally reveals a brutal reality for the MNS - Raj Thackeray played the role of the savior for his cousin, but in the process, he may have become the sole loser of the 2026 mandate. The worse part is that the Shiv Sena (UBT) is reluctant to accept this and is blaming Raj for the poor performance of his party leading to the defeat. A granular analysis of the ward-wise voting patterns exposes the fundamental flaw in this tactical alliance. The vote transfer, the holy grail of any coalition, operated strictly on a one-way street. Data suggests that the traditional MNS voter—often young, aggressive, and driven by regional pride—heeded Raj Thackeray’s call and transferred their votes to Shiv Sena (UBT) candidates in wards where the MNS did not contest. This consolidation was critical in helping the UBT hold its fortresses against the BJP's "Infra Man" juggernaut. However, the favor was not returned. In seats allocated to the MNS, the traditional Shiv Sena (UBT) voter appeared hesitant to back the "Engine" (MNS symbol). Whether due to lingering historical bitterness or a lack of instructions from the local UBT leadership, the "Torch" (UBT symbol) voters did not gravitate toward Raj’s candidates. The result? The UBT survived, while the MNS candidates were left stranded. ‘Second Fiddle’ Perhaps the most poignant aspect of this election was the shift in the personal dynamic between the Thackeray brothers. Decades ago, they parted ways over a bitter dispute regarding who would control the party helm. Raj, refusing to work under Uddhav, formed the MNS to chart his own path. Yet, in 2026, the wheel seems to have come full circle. By agreeing to contest a considerably lower number of seats and focusing his energy on the broader alliance narrative, Raj Thackeray tacitly accepted the role of "second fiddle." It was a pragmatic gamble to save the "Thackeray" brand from total erasure by the BJP-Shinde combine. While the brand survived, it is Uddhav who holds the equity, while Raj has been left with the debt. Charisma as a Charity Throughout the campaign, Raj Thackeray’s rallies were, as always, electric. His fiery oratory and charismatic presence drew massive crowds, a sharp contrast to the more somber tone of the UBT leadership. Ironically, this charisma served as a force multiplier not for his own party, but for his cousin’s. Raj acted as the star campaigner who energised the anti-BJP vote bank. He successfully articulated the anger against the "Delhi-centric" politics he accuses the BJP of fostering. But when the dust settled, the seats were won by UBT candidates who rode the wave Raj helped create. The MNS chief provided the wind for the sails, but the ship that docked in the BMC was captained by Uddhav. ‘Marathi Asmita’ Stung by the results and the realisation of the unequal exchange, Raj Thackeray took to social media shortly after the counting concluded. In an emotive post, he avoided blaming the alliance partner but instead pivoted back to his ideological roots. Urging his followers to "stick to the issue of Marathi Manoos and Marathi Asmita (pride)," Raj signaled a retreat to the core identity politics that birthed the MNS. It was a somber appeal, stripped of the bravado of the campaign, hinting at a leader who knows he must now rebuild from the rubble. The 2026 BMC election will be remembered as the moment Raj Thackeray proved he could be a kingmaker, even if it meant crowning the rival he once despised. He provided the timely help that allowed the Shiv Sena (UBT) to live to fight another day. But in the ruthless arithmetic of democracy, where moral victories count for little, the MNS stands isolated—a party that gave everything to the alliance and received nothing in return. Ironically, there are people within the UBT who still don’t want to accept this and on the contrary blame Raj Thackeray for dismal performance of the MNS, which they argue, derailed the UBT arithmetic. They state that had the MNS performed any better, the results would have been much better for the UBT.

Burnt by the System

A horrifying protest in Odisha lays bare the collapse of institutional justice.


Odisha
Odisha

The gruesome death of a 20-year-old student at an autonomous college in Odisha, who set herself ablaze in a desperate protest against inaction on her complaint of sexual harassment by a professor, has ignited a firestorm of public fury while exposing the rot in India’s campus justice systems.

 

It has also cast an unforgiving spotlight on how Indian educational institutions, far from being places of safety and learning, have become sites of intimidation.

 

Earlier this week, the student, who was pursuing her B.Ed at Fakir Mohan Autonomous College walked towards the principal’s office, doused herself in kerosene and struck a match. She died three days later in an ICU in Bhubaneswar, having suffered burns to 95 percent of her body.

 

Her final act has shaken Odisha and much of India to its core, besides leading to the inevitable political slanging match.

 

The young woman had lodged a complaint on July 1, accusing the head of the education department of months of sexual harassment. She uploaded the complaint on social media, tagged student leaders and even posted chilling premonitions of her own death. She did everything a victim is told to do - complain through official channels and call for help.

 

Ten days later, amid mounting frustration, she and fellow students staged a protest. She had been promised resolution in seven days; instead, she was hounded. According to her father, the professor intimidated her and the college principal threatened rustication. The college’s Internal Complaints Committee gave the professor a clean chit.

 

Then came the self-immolation. It took her death for the police to arrest both the professor and principal and promises of justice from Odisha’s newly-elected Chief Minister, Mohan Charan Majhi.

 

Committees are being formed. But none of it can douse the inferno of rage sparked by the tragedy. The shameful incident is a damning indictment of the systemic rot in Indian academia. The Internal Complaints Committees, mandated by law after the Vishaka judgment and reinforced by the 2013 Sexual Harassment of Women at Workplace Act, are often toothless or compromised. In many institutions, especially in smaller towns, the committees serve more as shields for the accused than sanctuaries for the victims. Professors wield enormous influence over marksheets, careers, and reputations; a female student who dares complain often finds herself isolated and stigmatised.

 

In recent years, campuses across India have witnessed similar eruptions where students were punished for naming their abusers and protestors baton-charged for demanding action.


The power asymmetry between faculty and students, compounded by patriarchy and bureaucracy, ensures that many cases never see the light of day.

 

The political response has followed a grimly predictable arc. The Congress, sensing an opportunity, called it “organised murder by the system.” Rahul Gandhi accused the ruling BJP of enabling a culture of silence and complicity. The BJP, in turn, accused the opposition of politicising a tragedy.

 

Caught in the crossfire are grieving parents, stunned classmates, and a public that has seen this film far too many times. Governor Hari Babu Kambhampati has demanded a detailed report from the state government. Meanwhile, protests have erupted across Odisha, with opposition parties calling for a statewide bandh. Questions are also being raised about the conduct of the post-mortem, held at 2am, under police watch.

 

Perhaps the most haunting aspect of this case is not just the act of self-immolation, but how foreseeable it was. The victim had cried out for help in petitions and on social media. Her despair was visible, documented and shared. And yet, the institutional response was apathy laced with hostility. That she had to burn herself alive to be believed is a grotesque commentary on the failures of India’s educational and judicial systems.

 

In the wake of such a tragedy, it is tempting to focus on punishment. But the real challenge lies deeper. Unless Internal Complaints Committees are made genuinely independent and empowered and unless colleges are held accountable for safeguarding students, a similar incident is only waiting to happen.

 

We cannot let India’s campuses become cremation grounds for its daughters.

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