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By:

Shoumojit Banerjee

27 August 2024 at 9:57:52 am

Maharashtra’s Rankean Chronicler and the Final Word on Shivaji Maharaj

In a lifetime devoted to relentless scholarship, Mehendale sifted legend from fact, giving the Maratha ruler the biography he truly...

Maharashtra’s Rankean Chronicler and the Final Word on Shivaji Maharaj

In a lifetime devoted to relentless scholarship, Mehendale sifted legend from fact, giving the Maratha ruler the biography he truly deserved G.B. Mehendale (1947-2025) The prodigious Gajanan Bhaskar Mehendale, who passed away aged 77 in Pune, was a comprehensive debunker of the many myths associated with Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj and the historiography on the legendary 17th century Maratha warrior king. A figure of Olympian erudition and quiet humility, Mehendale belonged to that now-extinct species of scholars whose lineage ran through luminaries of the late 19th and early 20th stalwarts like Sir Jadunath Sarkar, Vishwanath Kashinath Rajwade, Vasudev Vaman Khare, G.S. Sardesai – whose craft was defined by a stern fidelity to evidence and the conviction that history was a serious and rigorous discipline that could not be subjected to frivolous ideological sloganeering or faddish theorizing. That Mehendale, in his 950-page tour de force Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj: His Life and Times (2011), could so effortlessly expose the flaws in the great Sarkar’s Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj and His Times (1919) - a biography that had long dominated the field of Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj studies in English - stands as a testament to his scholarly authority and exacting method. He tellingly began his monumental biography of Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj with the famous quote from John Adams, made during the latter’s ‘Argument in Defense of the Soldiers in the Boston Massacre Trials’ in December 1770: “Facts are stubborn things; and whatever may be our wishes, our inclinations, or the dictates of our passion, they cannot alter the state of facts and evidence.” Mehendale’s masterwork, the product of a staggering 30 years of dedicated research, stands as the most technically perfect biography of Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj, with its fascinating appendices and every controversy and misconception examined in forensic detail. Born in 1947, the year of India’s independence, Mehendale grew up in an atmosphere where Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj was both folk memory and nationalist icon. He trained first as a student of defence studies at the University of Pune, and even worked as a war correspondent during the Bangladesh War of 1971 before turning fulltime to history research. In his magnum opus, he admitted that like most Maharashtrian boys he had grown up revering Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Maharaj; what changed was the nature of his reverence. As he read widely in military history, he realized that Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj could be counted among the “great captains of the world” and that his legacy was not just that of a daring cavalryman but also of an astute administrator, a humane statesman and a builder of institutions. That recognition could have led him down the road of hagiography. Instead, Mehendale became a myth-breaker. Like an ace detective, he forensically cherished myths that abound in the Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj’s exploits and the great ruler’s milieu. A person who absolutely shunned any manner of celebrity, Mehendale was at home in the libraries and archives of Pune and elsewhere in Maharashtra, spending the best part of his research life at institutes like the Bharat Itihas Sanshodhak Mandal (BISM) and the Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute (BORI), immersing himself in Modi scripts, Persian chronicles, Portuguese records, neglected Marathi bakhars, digging up old letters and correspondence to understand and present as definitive a picture of Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj and 17th century Maharashtra as was possible. When it was finally published in English, Mehendale’s ‘Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj: His Life and Times’ became a running dialogue with earlier chroniclers, correcting, nuancing and sometimes outright dismissing their claims, especially in Sarkar’s biography of Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj. For instance, Mehendale debunked stories that the fort of Kondhana was renamed Sinhgad only after Tanaji Malusare’s death in its recapture, observing that a 1663 letter already called Kondhana as ‘Sinhgad,’ seven years before its recapture by Tanaji in 1670. He further corrected notions of scholars that an awakening in Maharashtra owing to the work of saints had laid the groundwork for Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj’s coming. Likewise, he debunked the notion that Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj’s many marriages were all politically motivated, noting that even a lesser noble like Kanhoji Jedhe had five wives. Mehendale further refuted the opinion of James Grant Duff and Sarkar that Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj was illiterate, pointing that in the absence of any hard evidence, such a claim on Grant Duff’s part (and echoed by others) carried with it a whiff of sensationalism. Mehendale pointed out how Sarkar dismissed most Marathi documents as undated, unreliable or altered, while himself relying heavily on undated Persian collections. Sarkar, he argued, had failed to engage with Marathi sources in depth, and in doing so allowed myth carelessness to creep in what Mehendale termed a ‘half-baked’ biography of Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj. While Sarkar was a master of Persian sources and a formidable chronicler of Aurangzeb and the fall of the Mughal Empire, but to Mehendale’s mind, he had only dabbled in Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj. Dr. Bal Krishna’s two-volume Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj the Great (1931), the other widely read English biography which made effective use sources, suffered the opposite problem. It was passionately nationalist, a work of uplift rather than of inquiry. Where Sarkar was sceptical, Bal Krishna was celebratory. However, the biography which Mehendale gives of Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj is sober without being bloodless, proud without being parochial. It was in his appendices, those dense but absorbing collections of letters, farmns, and cross-examinations, that one saw his craft at its clearest. Readers linger there not for narrative pleasure but for the thrill of evidence itself, which Mehendale sifted and arranged with lawyerly care. While giving a talk on truths and half-truths in history, Mehendale took aim at the easy relativism that passes for historical wisdom. “Some people, who are perhaps too indolent to study Persian or the Modi script, keep saying history keeps changing,” Mehendale had remarked. “It is my belief that ninety per cent of history remains as it is. Ten per cent may change owing to new evidence,” he said, in a thinly-veiled rebuke to so-called ‘progressive’ or Marxist historians. It was his firm view that the historians’ job is not to ‘guide’ society but only to tell from documents what happened. Mehendale’s fastidiousness in source criticism recalled Barthold Georg Niebuhr, who in the early nineteenth century revolutionized Roman history by discarding legend. His devotion to documentation echoed historians like Ranke and Guizot. It is imperative that his other works in Marathi like ‘Islamachi Olakh’ and ‘Shivachatrapatinche Aramar’ (The Navy of Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj) be translated in English and other vernacular languages to enable the country to know the full measure of Mehendale’s scholarly rigour. In his biography of Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj, Mehendale joins a rare company of historians who have completely reshapes the very study of their subjects: Golo Mann with Wallenstein, David Chandler with Napoleon’s campaigns, Stephen Kotkin with Stalin or Ian Kershaw with Hitler. Just as the masterworks of these historians rendered earlier accounts of their subjects provisional, Mehendale’s ‘Shivaji: His Life and Times’ made the works of Sarkar and others seem like a first draft. It is hard to imagine any matching the comprehensiveness of Mehendale’s magnum opus. Its meticulous appendices, its demolition of errors large and small ensures that it will remain the Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj biography to end all biographies – and the volume that every serious student must confront. In this sense, Gajanan Bhaskar Mehendale accomplished something rare by writing a work so thorough and so definitive that it may never be superseded. And that is the highest tribute one can pay a historian. He did what Leopold von Ranke demanded, what John Adams urged, what he himself practiced: he gave us the historical Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj, not as a plaster saint or a polemical symbol but as he really was.

From Reel to Real: Can Actor Vijay Rewrite Tamil Nadu’s Political Script?

An icon’s fanfare is no substitute for political substance in the world’s most theatrically competitive state.

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Cinema and politics have long shared a complicated romance in Tamil Nadu. The state’s political landscape, ever so vibrant, has historically been shaped by the intersection of mass appeal and ideological fervour. In the post-independence era, Tamil cinema did not just reflect society but actively shaped political narratives, with actors stepping into politics as charismatic protagonists of change. M.G. Ramachandran (MGR) and J. Jayalalithaa remain emblematic of this phenomenon as stars who became power brokers, blending celluloid heroism with political strategy to build enduring legacies. Their careers underscored that success was not guaranteed by screen presence alone but required a savvy mix of grassroots organisation, ideological commitment and strategic alliances.


Though whispers of political ambition first surfaced in 2020, Vijay’s formal foray came only in February 2024, with the TVK’s launch heralded as a potential game-changer. His inaugural public salvo in Vikravandi saw him sharply criticising both the DMK and the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), deriding their indecision on the National Education Policy as the behaviour of “kindergarten students.” While it was a bold remark, Tamil Nadu’s political theatre demands more than a few soundbites.


The political history of the state provides cautionary tales. MGR did not ascend overnight. His success was built on decades of association with the Dravidian movement, commitment to social justice, and shrewd organisational expansion. Jayalalithaa, too, transformed early scepticism about her political acumen into long-term dominance, combining grassroots connect with a highly disciplined party machine. Their genius lay in turning cinematic personas into political symbols while embedding themselves in the party apparatus and the popular imagination.


Tamil identity

The roots of this phenomenon trace back to the 1950s, when C.N. Annadurai’s DravidaMunnetraKazhagam (DMK) broke the Congress’s monopoly in the state, promoting Tamil identity, anti-Hindi agitation, and social justice as rallying causes. The DMK’s dramatic rise in 1967 came amid mounting opposition to perceived northern dominance, cultural imposition, and caste hierarchies. It was the first successful challenge to the national party after independence, reshaping Tamil Nadu’s politics into a battleground of regionalism and populism. By contrast, the AIADMK’s formation in 1972 was born of internal dissent within the DMK, led by MGR, himself an icon of popular culture and Dravidian ideology. His ability to merge mass appeal with political activism allowed the AIADMK to challenge and often supplant the DMK in subsequent decades, with Jayalalithaa emerging as a political titan in the 1990s. The rivalry between the two Dravidian giants has since defined Tamil Nadu’s political discourse, often eclipsing national parties like the Congress and BJP, which remain marginal forces in the state.


Conversely, the experiences of Sivaji Ganesan and Kamal Haasan offer stark warnings. Ganesan, lauded as one of Tamil cinema’s greatest actors, failed to convert public adulation into political influence. His political outings remained largely ceremonial, lacking sustained mass mobilisation. Kamal Haasan’sMakkalNeedhiMaiam (MNM), despite a high-profile launch and civic activism, has struggled electorally, unable to breach even the five per cent threshold in assembly polls. Today, MNM plays a marginal role, often reduced to aligning with the DMK rather than charting its own course.


Vijayakanth’s DesiyaMurpokku Dravida Kazhagam (DMDK) provides another sobering precedent. The party once looked promising, securing nearly 9 per cent of the vote in the 2006 assembly elections, challenging the established duopoly. Yet poor organisational depth, erratic alliances, and his eventual ill health led the party into political oblivion within a decade. The political arena, especially in Tamil Nadu, is unforgiving to those who mistake celebrity for strategy.


Vijay appears to have taken note of these historical lessons. His early political messaging emphasises Dravidian pride, social justice and anti-corruption - core themes that have long resonated in Tamil Nadu’s public discourse. But words, however well-crafted, must now be accompanied by action. The crux of TVK’s challenge is structural: transforming Vijay’s popularity into a disciplined political machine capable of sustained electoral engagement.


The paradox of Tamil Nadu’s political culture lies in its dual demand for star charisma and organisationalrigour. A fan base that fills auditoriums and floods social media is not automatically a political cadre. To contest and win, a party must build a presence at the booth level, nurture second-line leaders, and develop coherent policy positions that appeal beyond the spectacle of personal charisma. At present, Vijay remains the TVK’s singular political face which can be a potentially dangerous concentration of authority.


Speculation about a tie-up with the AIADMK persists, though such a move could undermine TVK’s claim of presenting a fresh alternative. Voters in Tamil Nadu, long accustomed to ideological battles between the Dravidian giants, will demand clarity: Is TVK a genuine political revolution or a repackaging of star power? Clear policy proposals on education, employment, industrial development, and social welfare will be essential to answer this question.


The Rajinikanth Factor

No discussion of Tamil cinema’s political ambitions is complete without the shadow of Rajinikanth. The superstar toyed with political plans for years, only to withdraw citing health concerns and the inherent unpredictability of the political process. His retreat highlighted a hard truth: Tamil Nadu’s electorate may revere stardom, but it does not easily forgive lack of substance or ideological direction.


Rajinikanth had toyed with the idea of ‘spiritual politics’ - a vision divorced from the deeply secular, anti-Brahmin, and social justice-oriented foundations of the Dravidian movement. His equivocation exposed the mismatch between celebrity persona and political ideology. Vijay now faces that same test. His challenge is not merely to represent nostalgia for cinematic greatness, but to ground his movement in tangible demands and ideological consistency.


Acid Test

The next assembly elections, scheduled for 2026, loom as Vijay’s first real political test. History shows that Tamil Nadu’s political shifts occurred when leaders created palpable waves—whether it was the DMK’s triumph in 1967, ousting the Congress on a wave of anti-Hindi sentiment, or the AIADMK’s spectacular entry in 1977, capitalising on the charisma and populism of MGR.


Yet, beyond electoral arithmetic lies the historical legacy of caste mobilisation and welfare politics.


The Dravidian movement itself was founded on anti-caste narratives, challenging Brahminical domination and uplifting backward castes. Welfare populism pioneered by MGR and later Jayalalithaa has redefined state-citizen relations, from subsidised food to social security schemes.


Vijay’s TVK will need to position itself within this historical trajectory else risk fading into irrelevance. For TVK to emulate such feats, it must first evolve from a one-man show into a party with institutional depth. This entails building local leadership, formulating credible policy platforms, and investing in organisational machinery that extends beyond flash-in-the-pan campaigns. The temptation to rely solely on Vijay’s star power will be a strategic folly.


Moreover, Tamil Nadu’s electorate has matured. Voters no longer respond simply to the cult of personality; they expect detailed positions on pressing issues: job creation in the face of a slowing economy, improving public education, reforming health infrastructure, and navigating caste dynamics that remain potent political fault lines.


As the curtain rises on this new chapter, the stakes are high. Will Vijay merely be a passing comet – bright and dazzling but ultimately ephemeral or will he succeed in crafting a political legacy that stands apart from those of his predecessors? The answer lies not in cinematic drama but in whether he can ensure discipline, a strong organisation and policy coherence.

(The writer is a Bengaluru-based political commentator. Views personal.)

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