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By:

Abhijit Mulye

21 August 2024 at 11:29:11 am

High-stakes chess beneath the surface

BJP Candidates coming out after filing their nomination for the upcoming Legislative Council Polls from Vidhan Bhavan in Mumbai on Thursday. Pic: Bhushan Koyande Mumbai: Typically, when a ruling coalition enjoys a formidable and comfortable majority, elections to the Rajya Sabha and the State Legislative Council are quiet, predictable affairs. They are often viewed as mere formalities, rarely capturing the public imagination or dominating front-page headlines. Historically, these indirect...

High-stakes chess beneath the surface

BJP Candidates coming out after filing their nomination for the upcoming Legislative Council Polls from Vidhan Bhavan in Mumbai on Thursday. Pic: Bhushan Koyande Mumbai: Typically, when a ruling coalition enjoys a formidable and comfortable majority, elections to the Rajya Sabha and the State Legislative Council are quiet, predictable affairs. They are often viewed as mere formalities, rarely capturing the public imagination or dominating front-page headlines. Historically, these indirect elections only become newsworthy under specific conditions: either the ruling coalition is plagued by internal fissures, or the opposition is too fragmented to put up a united front. In Maharashtra, however, the political landscape remains highly volatile. Recently, the Rajya Sabha elections became the center of intense media scrutiny, and over the past week, the Legislative Council polls followed suit. Although all ten candidates—nine from the ruling alliance and one from the opposition Maha Vikas Aghadi (MVA)—are now set to be elected unopposed, the intricate backroom maneuvers that led to this truce kept the state’s political circles buzzing. Interestingly, the reason for this heightened news value can be traced to both a subtle tug-of-war within the ruling combine and a visibly weakened opposition. Shifting Strategy The maneuvering within the opposition ranks has been particularly telling. A major focal point of the election buildup was the anticipated candidacy of Shiv Sena (UBT) Chief Uddhav Thackeray. After generating considerable hype and speculation about a potential return to the legislature, Thackeray ultimately chose to withdraw from the electoral fray. This sudden pullback forced a rapid recalibration within the MVA. Initially, the Congress party had adopted an aggressive posture, declaring its intention to field a candidate if Thackeray decided against contesting. However, following closed-door deliberations with Shiv Sena (UBT) leadership, the Congress quietly backed down. Why the state Congress leadership so readily acquiesced to this sudden change in strategy, sacrificing a potential seat, remains a mystery and a subject of intense debate among political observers. On the other side of the aisle, the ruling Mahayuti coalition maximized this electoral opportunity to consolidate its political base, reward loyalists, and balance complex regional equations. The Nationalist Congress Party (NCP) strategically paved the way for the political rehabilitation of former Congress legislator Zishan Siddique by nominating him to the Legislative Council. This calculated move introduces a prominent new Muslim face for the party, likely intended to fill the leadership vacuum in Mumbai left by veteran leader Nawab Malik. Meanwhile, Chief Minister Eknath Shinde used his nominations to send a definitive message about the premium he places on loyalty. By securing another term for Dr. Neelam Gorhe, Shinde demonstrated that those who stood by his faction would be adequately rewarded. Furthermore, by bringing Vidarbha strongman Bachchu Kadu into the fold, Shinde has attempted to anchor his party’s future and expand its footprint in a region predominantly controlled by his senior alliance partner, the BJP. The Bharatiya Janata Party, playing its characteristic long game, meticulously ensured that its list of six candidates struck the perfect organizational, social, and political balance. Battle for LOP Despite these broader alliance strategies, the most consequential nomination in this electoral cycle is arguably that of Ambadas Danve. Barely six months after completing his tenure in the Upper House and stepping down from the prestigious post of Leader of the Opposition in the Legislative Council, Danve has been nominated once again by the Shiv Sena (UBT). With his return to the house, there is a strong possibility that he will reclaim his former post. This specific development highlights a much deeper crisis within the Congress. Following Danve’s brief retirement, the Congress had naturally emerged as the largest opposition party in the Upper House. This mathematical advantage theoretically paved the way for their Kolhapur strongman, Satej “Banti” Patil, to lay claim to the Leader of the Opposition’s chair. However, the sudden defection of Congress MLC Pradnya Satav, who switched loyalties to the BJP, severely dented the party’s numbers. Her departure brought the Congress’s strength in the house just below that of the Shiv Sena (UBT). Stripped of its numerical superiority overnight, the Congress was relegated to being a mute spectator, unable to assert its rightful claim. Internal Dissent This series of tactical defeats has triggered palpable frustration within the Congress’s state unit. One senior Congress leader, speaking on the condition of anonymity, expressed deep disappointment with the state leadership’s inability to protect the party’s interests. “Everyone has personal political ambitions, but leaders must learn the ways to collectively move ahead and strategize,” the leader remarked, attributing the party’s current stagnation in Maharashtra to this lack of cohesive vision. In short, these Legislative Council elections have delivered one message loud and clear: even when everything appears calm and stable on the surface, the relentless machinery of politics continues to churn behind the scenes. No political player in Maharashtra can afford to rest assured or sit idle under the illusion that there are no major state elections until 2029.

Drama on Two Fronts

When Parliament starts sounding like prime time, even the soap opera feels more sensible.

On July 29, India bore witness to two spectacles - one inside Parliament and the other on prime-time television.  One was a high-stakes debate on Operation Sindoor; the other, a reboot of the iconic ‘Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi.’ Though ostensibly worlds apart, they mirrored each other in ways that were both uncanny and unsettling.

 

Let’s start with the Parliament. What was meant to be a serious national security discussion quickly devolved into political karaoke with everyone singing their own tune, entirely out of sync. The opposition demanded the government label Donald Trump a ‘liar,’ which, last anyone checked, is not standard protocol in counter-terror strategy. It is unclear whether they believed this would rally global condemnation or just rack up retweets. Either way, it was a request so baffling that it made one long for the relative sanity of TV melodrama.

 

Then came the familiar grievance: “No country condemned Pakistan!” True. What they did condemn, with machine-like precision, was terrorism. The opposition seemed to take this as a slight - as if the global diplomatic community had sent India to sit in the naughty corner with Pakistan. It is a logic spiral that would make a daytime soap proud: “If you didn't say exactly what I wanted, you must be against me.”

 

The ruling party, refused to be outdone, fired back with its own greatest hits. Nehru and Indira Gandhi made surprise posthumous appearances, Sonia Gandhi’s personal anguish was paraded about, and the ghosts of Congress's past were summoned to settle present scores. The Prime Minister, always a compelling speaker, chose pathos and sarcasm over clarity, and we got yet another round of “Back then, we were weak; now, we’re winning.”

 

Meanwhile, on the other end of the spectrum, Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi made its grand return. Tulsi Virani, still emotionally resilient and inexplicably ageless, glided across screens, resurrecting the same family tensions that first aired in the early 2000s. Smriti Irani’s character might now be a national memory, but the show remains firmly rooted in its DNA.

At least the soap opera does not pretend to be a governing body.

 

Both events trafficked in nostalgia. Both clung to old storylines like a security blanket. And both featured people switching sides with astonishing speed, be it in political alliances or family feuds. There is a certain irony in watching leaders berate each other for things done decades ago while forgetting they have often sat on both sides of the aisle. It's like watching a TV family where every argument begins with “You always hated me since 1998,” and ends with a group hug no one believes.

 

What is truly galling is the performative nature of it all. The Parliament debate had the choreography of a prime-time serial: strategic pauses, impassioned monologues, dramatic interruptions and a final flourish that left viewers exhausted but unenlightened. There were no answers about the strategy behind Operation Sindoor, no clarity about long-term objectives, and indeed no cross-party unity - just rhetoric, recycled and reheated.

 

The rebooted Kyunki, for all its dramatic indulgences, at least knows what it is. It is not pretending to solve national issues. It is not trying to defend border policy with decade-old grudges. It does not expect the viewer to believe that emotional outbursts are evidence. And unlike Parliament, it stays on script.

 

Well, will it actually stay on script? After all, Tulsi is now played once again by Smriti Irani, who these days is better known for her role in national politics and unwavering support of the Prime Minister than her TV stardom. She does not just do monologues on screen anymore; she has delivered them in Parliament with just as much conviction. So, it is fair to wonder if Kyunki stick to family drama, or sneak in a little ideology along the way? If a few “Jai Shri Ram” moments start echoing between emotional confrontations and kitchen showdowns, do not be too surprised. This reboot could well be rehearsing a new kind of message.

 

Perhaps our lawmakers could take a cue from television after all: stick to the story, do not drag in unnecessary plotlines, and above all, remember your audience.  

 

July 29 gave us two shows, one on prime time and the other aired in Parliament. The former tried to repackage nostalgia for entertainment. The latter, quite alarmingly, tried to pass entertainment off as governance.

 

You be the judge of which one did it better.


(The author is a learning and development professional. Views personal.)

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