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By:

Rajendra Joshi

3 December 2024 at 9:20:26 am

Rajesh Kshirsagar walks into a political trap

The Shiv Sena MLA has chosen confrontation over the Shaktipeeth Expressway risking political isolation Kolhapur: Shiv Sena MLA Rajesh Kshirsagar’s aggressive support to the proposed Shaktipeeth Expressway has brought him face-to-face with former MP Raju Shetti. But the political fallout has not stopped there. In quick succession, he has taken on Congress leader Satej Patil, questioned the position of fellow Mahayuti legislator Chandradip Narake and criticised his own party colleague, Public...

Rajesh Kshirsagar walks into a political trap

The Shiv Sena MLA has chosen confrontation over the Shaktipeeth Expressway risking political isolation Kolhapur: Shiv Sena MLA Rajesh Kshirsagar’s aggressive support to the proposed Shaktipeeth Expressway has brought him face-to-face with former MP Raju Shetti. But the political fallout has not stopped there. In quick succession, he has taken on Congress leader Satej Patil, questioned the position of fellow Mahayuti legislator Chandradip Narake and criticised his own party colleague, Public Health Minister and Kolhapur Guardian Minister Prakash Abitkar. That is a lot of political fronts for one MLA to manage simultaneously. The immediate question, therefore, is not whether Kshirsagar has the courage to fight. He clearly does. The more important question is whether he has calculated the political cost of fighting everyone at once. The Shaktipeeth Expressway has become one of the most contentious political issues in Kolhapur district. Raju Shetti has turned the proposed acquisition of agricultural land into a farmers’ rights issue and has built a sustained campaign around it. His politics has always thrived on confrontation. His rise from the sugarcane farmers’ movement to the Assembly and then the Lok Sabha was built on his ability to convert farmers’ grievances into political mobilisation. Kshirsagar has now chosen to meet that politics head-on. His controversial warning against Shetti, in response to the latter’s aggressive rhetoric on land acquisition, transformed a policy disagreement into a personal political duel. Supporters of both sides have since taken the confrontation to the streets. This is precisely where political calculation becomes important. Supporting a flagship project backed by the Chief Minister can certainly send a message to the leadership in Mumbai. Kshirsagar is willing to stand by the government when the going gets difficult. But the same position can create political liabilities at home, particularly when the project affects constituencies where local MLAs are under pressure from farmers. Different Question Kshirsagar’s decision to attack Satej Patil raises a different question. Patil remains one of the most influential political figures in Kolhapur. Suggesting that he may struggle to win the next Assembly election is not routine political criticism. It is an open challenge. That challenge may energise Kshirsagar’s supporters. It may also consolidate his position among those within the ruling establishment who see Patil as a principal political adversary. But there is a danger in confusing political visibility with political strength. Every additional opponent creates another front that has to be managed during an election. And Kshirsagar has already opened several. The most politically revealing part of Kshirsagar’s criticism of Chandradip Narake and Prakash Abitkar. Narake represents a constituency through which the Shaktipeeth project passes. His opposition, therefore, has an obvious electoral logic: he has to respond to the concerns of his voters. Kshirsagar’s criticism of Narake puts him in a difficult position. He is effectively asking another ruling-party MLA to subordinate constituency politics to the government’s larger project. Then came the attack on Abitkar. To publicly accuse the party’s Kolhapur Guardian Minister of failing to strengthen the organisation amounts to washing the party’s dirty linen in public. Ministerial Ambition There is another possible explanation for Kshirsagar’s increasingly combative posture: the unresolved question of ministerial ambition. A three-time MLA would naturally expect that electoral experience and political seniority might eventually translate into a Cabinet berth. Instead, when the opportunity came, Eknath Shinde chose Prakash Abitkar and gave him an important Cabinet portfolio. Kshirsagar was left outside the ministry. His present position on the State Planning Board gives him a role, but it is not the same political currency as a Cabinet berth. It would be simplistic to suggest that every recent statement is merely an expression of that disappointment. But it would be equally naïve to ignore the possibility that political frustration has influenced his increasingly assertive posture. The Shaktipeeth issue may simply have provided the trigger. Kshirsagar should also be looking closely at the arithmetic of Kolhapur North. The constituency has a history of surprising political outcomes. Its old-city peth culture is blunt, politically conscious and capable of producing results that defy conventional calculations. The last Assembly election demonstrated this dramatically. Madhurimaraje Chhatrapati’s withdrawal as the Congress candidate left the Opposition scrambling just weeks before polling. Satej Patil then backed municipal corporator Rajesh Latkar, who entered the contest with barely 15 days to campaign. Yet Latkar secured nearly 81,000 votes. Kshirsagar won by around 23,000 votes, but the number that should concern his camp is not merely his winning margin.

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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