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By:

Abhijit Mulye

21 August 2024 at 11:29:11 am

Inside the secret power struggle behind Dhankhar’s resignation

Mumbai: The cryptic silence surrounding the abrupt resignation of former Vice President Jagdeep Dhankhar in July was shattered on the floor of the Rajya Sabha this Monday, not by a government clarification, but by the visible anguish of the Opposition. While official records continue to attribute his departure to “health reasons,” highly placed sources in the power corridors of the capital have now confirmed that a fatal misunderstanding of the shifting power dynamics between the Rashtriya...

Inside the secret power struggle behind Dhankhar’s resignation

Mumbai: The cryptic silence surrounding the abrupt resignation of former Vice President Jagdeep Dhankhar in July was shattered on the floor of the Rajya Sabha this Monday, not by a government clarification, but by the visible anguish of the Opposition. While official records continue to attribute his departure to “health reasons,” highly placed sources in the power corridors of the capital have now confirmed that a fatal misunderstanding of the shifting power dynamics between the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) and the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) top brass was the true precipice from which the former Vice President fell. The revelations surfaced as the Winter Session of Parliament commenced on Monday, December 1, 2025. The solemnity of welcoming the new Vice President and Rajya Sabha Chairman, C.P. Radhakrishnan, was punctured by an emotional intervention from Leader of the Opposition Mallikarjun Kharge. The veteran Congress leader, hands shaking and voice trembling, shed tears on the floor of the House—a rare display of vulnerability that underscored the Opposition’s grievance over what they term an “institutional surgical strike.” The Failed Mediation Exclusive details emerging from Delhi’s political circles paint a picture of a constitutional authority who misread the winds of change. Sources reveal that tensions between Dhankhar and the government had been simmering for months, primarily over his handling of key legislative agendas and a perceived “drift” towards accommodating Opposition demands in the Upper House. As the chasm widened, a lifeline was reportedly thrown. A senior leader from a prominent alliance partner within the National Democratic Alliance (NDA) — a figure with decades of parliamentary experience and respect across the aisle — had discreetly offered to mediate. This leader recognized the growing impatience in the BJP high command and sought to bridge the gap before it became unbridgeable. However, Dhankhar declined the immediate urgency of this political mediation. “He was confident in his equations with the ideological parent,” a source familiar with the developments stated. “He is close to some of the RSS top functionaries and relied on them to mediate when his equations with the BJP top brass started going astray.” This reliance on Nagpur to manage New Delhi proved to be a critical miscalculation. Sources indicate that Dhankhar believed his deep ties with the Sangh would act as a buffer, insulating him from the political maneuvering of the ruling party’s executive leadership. He reportedly waited for the “green signal” or intervention from RSS functionaries, delaying the necessary reconciliation with the party leadership. Cost of delay The delay in mending ways was fatal. By the time the former Vice President realized that the RSS would not—or could not—overrule the BJP’s strategic decision to replace him, the die had been cast. The drift had become a gulf. The instruction, when it finally came on that fateful July 21, was absolute - he had to vacate the office immediately. The “untimely sudden resignation” that followed was officially cloaked in medical terminology, but insiders describe a chaotic exit. The former VP, who had recently moved into the lavish new Vice-President’s Enclave, was forced to vacate the premises in haste, leaving behind a tenure marked by both assertive confrontations and, ironically, a final act of silent compliance. Tears in the Upper House The ghost of this departure loomed large over Monday’s proceedings. Welcoming the new Chairman, C.P. Radhakrishnan, Mallikarjun Kharge could not hold back his emotions. Breaking away from the customary pleasantries, Kharge launched into a poignant lament for the predecessor who was denied a farewell. “I am constrained to refer to your predecessor’s completely unexpected and sudden exit from the office of the Rajya Sabha Chairman, which is unprecedented in the annals of parliamentary history,” Kharge said, his voice heavy with emotion. As Treasury benches erupted in protest, shouting slogans to drown out the discomforting truth, Kharge continued, wiping tears from his eyes. “The Chairman, being the custodian of the entire House, belongs as much to the Opposition as to the government. I was disheartened that the House did not get an opportunity to bid him a farewell. Regardless, we wish him, on behalf of the entire Opposition, a very healthy life.” The sight of the Leader of the Opposition shedding tears for a presiding officer with whom he had frequently clashed was a striking paradox. It highlighted the Opposition’s narrative that Dhankhar’s removal was not just a personnel change, but an assertion of executive dominance over the legislature. New chapter with old scars The government, represented by Parliamentary Affairs Minister Kiren Rijiju, sharply countered Kharge’s remarks, accusing the Opposition of shedding “crocodile tears” after having moved impeachment notices against Dhankhar in the past. “You are insulting the Chair by raising this now,” Rijiju argued amidst the din. Yet, outside the House, the whispers persisted. The narrative of a Vice President who waited for a call from Nagpur that came too late has firmly taken root. As C.P. Radhakrishnan takes the Chair, he does so not just as a new presiding officer, but as the successor to a man who learned the hard way that in the current dispensation, political alignment with the executive supersedes even the oldest of ideological ties.

Selective Outrage

India’s left-liberal media has long prided itself on being the torchbearer of secularism, dissent and moral rectitude. In the aftermath of ‘Operation Sindoor,’ the precision military strike launched by the Modi government against Pakistan-based terror camps, it has revealed its not a principled commitment to peace or truth, but a disturbing penchant for ideological prejudice, performative sanctimony and selective outrage.


The operation itself was a textbook display of calibrated force and geopolitical prudence. Prime Minister Narendra Modi, often caricatured as ‘authoritarian’ by the ‘liberal’ English-language commentariat, chose patience over provocation. He consulted opposition leaders, held detailed discussions with defence chiefs and took key international stakeholders, notably the United States and Russia, into confidence before authorising limited military action. The symbolism of ‘Operation Sindoor’ was also carefully crafted: a pointed reminder that the attack’s real victims were Hindu women widowed by Pakistan-sponsored militants in Kashmir. The government’s briefings were also strategic and symbolic as two ranking female officers, one of them Muslim, were made the public face of the mission, underlining a new Indian confidence that blends military muscle with democratic pluralism.


But this was unacceptable for India’s entrenched ‘left-liberal’ press, steeped in academic jargon, Western validation and a knee-jerk hostility to anything remotely ‘Hindutva.’ That a Muslim officer briefed the nation on ‘Operation Sindoor’ was branded ‘tokenism’ by such commentators. Others crudely alleged that the April 22 Pahalgam massacre was the logical culmination of reported atrocities against Muslims since Modi came to power in 2014.


The semantic nitpicking over ‘Operation Sindoor’ was maddening. An editor of a prominent magazine dubbed the operation’s name as ‘patriarchal’ and coded in Hindutva tropes. In a bizarre case of moral inversion, sindoor was likened to symbols of ‘honour killings’ and gender oppression, ignoring both its cultural resonance and the cruel reality that these women had lost their husbands in cold blood. For years, India’s ‘secular’ commentariat nurtured a preordained binary: the Congress may be flawed but was at least ‘secular’ while the BJP was an inveterate ‘fascist.’ Thus, the 2002 Gujarat riots are always focused upon but the Congress-backed pogrom of the Sikhs in 1984 is either downplayed or rationalised. Terrorism in Kashmir is tragic, but state retaliation is ‘jingoism.’ A strong Muslim voice in government is ‘tokenism’ but its absence is ‘exclusion.’ Even journalistic rigour is selectively applied. When Pakistan claimed to have downed Indian jets, some Indian outlets rushed to amplify the story before verification, inadvertently echoing enemy propaganda.


Dissent is vital in any democracy. But when its becomes indistinguishable from disdain, when editorial choices are dictated by ideological conformity, then the press becomes a caricature of itself. Ironically, many of these journalists enjoy robust free speech and loudly lament India’s supposed slide into ‘fascism’ from the safety of their X handles. Yet they turn a blind eye to Putin’s repression, Erdogan’s purges or Xi Jinping’s camps. In their eyes, Modi remains the greatest threat to democracy even as they broadcast their outrage freely, without fear of censorship or reprisal. ‘Operation Sindoor’ was a statement of cultural self-confidence. That confidence has rattled those who have spent their careers gatekeeping Indian discourse. Today, their monopoly is over. The people are watching and they no longer believe that the emperor has clothes.

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