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By:

Rajendra Pandharpure

15 April 2025 at 7:55:54 pm

The BJP’s Ganesha Gambit

Pune’s Ganeshotsav has become an enormous civic and political stage, and the ruling party has proved adept at occupying it. Pune: The city’s Ganeshotsav is entering its final phase, but the festival has already demonstrated something beyond its extraordinary crowds and familiar spectacle: the extent to which it has become a political stage. This year, the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) has left a particularly visible imprint on the festivities, using an event that reaches deep into the city’s...

The BJP’s Ganesha Gambit

Pune’s Ganeshotsav has become an enormous civic and political stage, and the ruling party has proved adept at occupying it. Pune: The city’s Ganeshotsav is entering its final phase, but the festival has already demonstrated something beyond its extraordinary crowds and familiar spectacle: the extent to which it has become a political stage. This year, the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) has left a particularly visible imprint on the festivities, using an event that reaches deep into the city’s neighbourhoods as an opportunity for public outreach. The political appropriation of the festival has not, however, been without a counter-current. Demands were raised for curbs on noise pollution, loudspeakers and the volume of dhol-tasha performances. The argument was not against Ganeshotsav itself, but for moderation - notably, a complete ban on DJ music and limits on the number of dhol and tasha instruments used by performing troupes. Familiar Troubles The festival’s reality has been rather different. Major roads have been occupied by mandaps. Processions celebrating the arrival of Lord Ganesha have unfolded amid punishing noise. DJ music, while subject to restrictions, has continued. Traffic congestion has become a familiar feature of the festival, with the movement of political leaders adding another layer to the city’s already strained roads. The Peth areas have remained crowded deep into the night. The Shrimant Dagdusheth Halwai Ganpati temple has drawn enormous crowds for darshan from the opening day. From the old city to housing societies and neighbourhood mandals, Ganeshotsav touches virtually every part of Pune. For a political party seeking a direct connection with citizens, few occasions offer such a ready-made network of people, institutions and local influencers. The BJP enters this festival with an unusually formidable organisational base. It has two MPs, seven MLAs and more than 100 corporators in Pune. Murlidhar Mohol, one of the city’s MPs, is a Union Minister of State. Chandrakant Patil is a Cabinet minister in the Maharashtra government, while Madhuri Misal is a Minister of State. The party’s presence also extends into the festival’s organisational architecture. Its influence is visible across numerous mandals, large and small. BJP MLA Hemant Rasane is General Secretary of the Shrimant Dagdusheth Halwai Sarvajanik Ganpati Trust. Kunal Tilak, a member of Lokmanya Tilak’s family, is a BJP corporator. The political and cultural histories of Pune therefore intersect in ways that are difficult to ignore. The BJP’s senior leadership has also made the most of the occasion. National President Nitin Nabin visited Pune to seek Lord Ganesha’s blessings, while Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis visited the city before and during the festival. Such visits are about more than religious observance. In a festival watched by millions and embedded in the city’s social life, political visibility comes almost automatically. There is also talk in Pune that the BJP provided substantial financial support to Dhol-Lezim troupes and their organisers, with claims that some major mandals received financial backing as well. These claims would require independent verification, but the perception itself points to the depth of the political contest around Ganeshotsav. BJP workers, according to local observers, have also sought to make their presence more conspicuous than that of festivities organised by housing societies. Useful Expedient The festival arrives at a politically useful moment for the BJP. The party has faced disquiet on several fronts. Young people have been agitated over the paper-leak controversy. Broader public dissatisfaction has been voiced over inflation and unemployment, while government policies relating to ethanol and charges associated with UPI transactions have also generated criticism. While a political party can defend a policy in a press conference and advertise its achievements, during Ganeshotsav, its workers can be physically present in neighbourhoods, among processions, mandals, cultural groups and devotees. Politics thus becomes less about argument and more about visibility. That is the BJP’s advantage in Pune. Ganeshotsav, after all, is not simply a sequence of religious rituals. It is an elaborate civic network involving local organisers, volunteers, cultural groups, businesses, residents and political representatives. Whoever has influence over that network acquires a powerful channel of communication with the city. The BJP appears to understand this particularly well. Its strength in Pune’s electoral politics has been reinforced by a presence that extends beyond elections and into the institutions and social spaces that organise public life. The irony is that the very scale of the festival that makes it politically attractive also magnifies the civic costs. The political value of Ganeshotsav and the civic burden it creates are therefore two sides of the same phenomenon. For Pune, the larger question is not whether politics has entered Ganeshotsav. It has done so for decades. The more consequential question is whether the festival’s extraordinary social capital will remain primarily a vehicle for political outreach or whether the same influence can be used to reconcile celebration with the ordinary civic needs of the city. For the moment, the BJP seems to have understood the first proposition better than most.

Checkmate by Stealth

Writer: Abhijit Joshi
Abhijit Joshi
Mar 27
4 min read

In Maharashtra’s fractious politics, the BJP is showing that power lies not in noise, but in deft timing.

Maharashtra’s politics has rarely lacked for drama. Alliances fray and reform, and crises appear with theatrical regularity. Yet the state’s current political moment is less about spectacle than about subtlety. Two seemingly unrelated episodes – the grim scandal surrounding a self-styled godman in Nashik and a local council election in Satara - offer a revealing glimpse into how the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) maintains its edge.


On March 16 and 17, Deputy Chief Minister and Shiv Sena leader Eknath Shinde travelled to Delhi. While official explanations were routine - meetings with Narendra Modi, discussions about Maharashtra’s development - the timing raised eyebrows. It was unusual for Shinde to make this trip given that the State’s budget session was underway. More intriguingly, Home Minister Amit Shah, Shinde’s usual interlocutor in Delhi, was not available.


There was frenzied speculation as Shinde has long sought to assert his autonomy within the ruling Mahayuti alliance. His party’s talk of ‘Operation Tiger’ - an effort to lure MPs from Uddhav Thackeray’s camp - suggested a leader keen to expand his footprint. A Delhi visit, even without Shah, might have been intended to signal ambition or secure a stronger hand in the coalition.


If so, the effort was swiftly eclipsed. Shinde returned to Mumbai in the early hours of March 18. By morning, the political conversation had shifted entirely.


Political Currency

Enter Ashok Kharat. The arrest of the controversial godman on charges involving the exploitation of women was, on its own merits, a serious matter demanding scrutiny. Yet the chronology invites attention. Police sources indicated that the case file had been ready for months. The complaint was formally registered on the afternoon of March 17 - the very day Shinde was in Delhi. Kharat was arrested around midnight. Hours later, Shinde landed back in Mumbai. By dawn, images of the godman with political leaders - most prominently Shinde - were circulating widely.


Within days, additional photographs surfaced, showing Kharat alongside figures from across the political spectrum, including BJP leaders like Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis, Amit Shah and Chandrakant Patil. Fadnavis responded with studied balance: a photograph, he said, did not imply guilt; those culpable would face consequences. The remark projected fairness. It also underscored a deeper reality. As Maharashtra’s Home Minister, Fadnavis oversees the police machinery. The pace, direction and intensity of the investigation ultimately rest with him.


This is where timing becomes political currency. The Kharat case did not merely expose alleged wrongdoing; it reshaped the narrative. Whatever Shinde sought to achieve in Delhi was buried beneath a scandal that placed him on the defensive. Congress leader Nana Patole had, intriguingly, hinted before the episode that “something big” would follow Shinde’s visit. Whether prescience or coincidence, the sequence is striking.


The ripples spread further. NCP (Ajit Pawar faction) leader Rupali Chakankar, who was reported to have links to the accused and to have intervened with media coverage, soon found herself under pressure. Both Fadnavis and Praful Patel suggested she step down. She resigned promptly.


For seasoned observers, the episode echoed an older playbook. After the 2008 Mumbai attacks, Sharad Pawar sought to unseat Chief Minister Vilasrao Deshmukh. Rather than confront him directly, Pawar first pushed for the resignation of his own deputy, R. R. Patil. The ensuing public outcry made Deshmukh’s position untenable. One resignation paved the way for another. In political chess, pawns can be sacrificed to expose the king. Whether Chakankar’s resignation serves a similar function remains uncertain. But the logic feels familiar.


Electoral Contest

While attention fixated on Nashik, another contest unfolded in Satara, some 250 kilometres away. The election for the presidency of the Satara Zilla Parishad, a local governing body, ought to have been straightforward. The Mahayuti alliance commanded the numbers: BJP with 27 members, the Nationalist Congress Party (NCP) with 20, and Shiv Sena with 15. A joint candidate would have secured an easy victory.


Instead, the BJP went it alone and won. Its candidate prevailed by 33 votes to 30, implying cross-voting from allies. Opposition figures alleged a quiet ‘Operation Lotus,’ (alluding to the BJP’s long-accused tactic of persuading rival legislators to defect or defy party lines). There were also claims, denied by the BJP, that police action against certain NCP members prevented them from voting.


The contest turned unruly. Shambhuraj Desai, campaigning for his party’s candidate, emerged from a confrontation with a bandaged finger and allegations of police excess. Yet the outcome stood. BJP’s nominees secured both the presidency and vice-presidency. Publicly, alliance partners celebrated. Privately, the message was unmistakable: even within the coalition, the BJP could outmanoeuvre its allies on their own terrain.


None of this is unprecedented. India’s political history is replete with such manoeuvres; the Congress party once perfected them. What distinguishes the BJP in Maharashtra today is the precision and consistency with which these tactics are deployed.


For Shinde, the implications are delicate. His authority depends on both his alliance with the BJP and his ability to project independence. Episodes like the Kharat affair constrain that space. The investigation is ongoing; further revelations could widen its political fallout. Each development will be read not only for its legal significance but for what it signals about intra-coalition hierarchies.


For the BJP, Satara offers a template. If a local body election can be swung despite unfavourable arithmetic, similar strategies may be attempted elsewhere. Incremental gains at the grassroots can cumulatively reshape the balance of power.


The broader lesson is about the nature of control. In politics, as in chess, dominance is not always visible. It lies in the quiet occupation of key squares, the anticipation of opponents’ moves, and the orchestration of events that appear, individually, unconnected. Maharashtra’s recent episodes suggest that the BJP, under Fadnavis’s watchful eye, has mastered this art. The loudest players may command attention. But it is the quietest planner who often dictates the game’s outcome.


(The writer is a political observer. Views personal.)

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