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By:

Abhijit Mulye

21 August 2024 at 11:29:11 am

The Unequal Cousins

Raj Thackeray’s ‘sacrifice’ saved Shiv Sena (UBT) but sank the MNS Mumbai: In the volatile theatre of Maharashtra politics, the long-awaited reunion of the Thackeray cousins on the campaign trail was supposed to be the masterstroke that reclaimed Mumbai. The results of the Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation (BMC) elections, however, tell a story of tragic asymmetry. While the alliance has successfully helped the Shiv Sena (UBT) stem the saffron tide and regain lost ground, it has left Raj...

The Unequal Cousins

Raj Thackeray’s ‘sacrifice’ saved Shiv Sena (UBT) but sank the MNS Mumbai: In the volatile theatre of Maharashtra politics, the long-awaited reunion of the Thackeray cousins on the campaign trail was supposed to be the masterstroke that reclaimed Mumbai. The results of the Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation (BMC) elections, however, tell a story of tragic asymmetry. While the alliance has successfully helped the Shiv Sena (UBT) stem the saffron tide and regain lost ground, it has left Raj Thackeray’s Maharashtra Navnirman Sena (MNS) staring at an existential crisis. The final tally reveals a brutal reality for the MNS - Raj Thackeray played the role of the savior for his cousin, but in the process, he may have become the sole loser of the 2026 mandate. The worse part is that the Shiv Sena (UBT) is reluctant to accept this and is blaming Raj for the poor performance of his party leading to the defeat. A granular analysis of the ward-wise voting patterns exposes the fundamental flaw in this tactical alliance. The vote transfer, the holy grail of any coalition, operated strictly on a one-way street. Data suggests that the traditional MNS voter—often young, aggressive, and driven by regional pride—heeded Raj Thackeray’s call and transferred their votes to Shiv Sena (UBT) candidates in wards where the MNS did not contest. This consolidation was critical in helping the UBT hold its fortresses against the BJP's "Infra Man" juggernaut. However, the favor was not returned. In seats allocated to the MNS, the traditional Shiv Sena (UBT) voter appeared hesitant to back the "Engine" (MNS symbol). Whether due to lingering historical bitterness or a lack of instructions from the local UBT leadership, the "Torch" (UBT symbol) voters did not gravitate toward Raj’s candidates. The result? The UBT survived, while the MNS candidates were left stranded. ‘Second Fiddle’ Perhaps the most poignant aspect of this election was the shift in the personal dynamic between the Thackeray brothers. Decades ago, they parted ways over a bitter dispute regarding who would control the party helm. Raj, refusing to work under Uddhav, formed the MNS to chart his own path. Yet, in 2026, the wheel seems to have come full circle. By agreeing to contest a considerably lower number of seats and focusing his energy on the broader alliance narrative, Raj Thackeray tacitly accepted the role of "second fiddle." It was a pragmatic gamble to save the "Thackeray" brand from total erasure by the BJP-Shinde combine. While the brand survived, it is Uddhav who holds the equity, while Raj has been left with the debt. Charisma as a Charity Throughout the campaign, Raj Thackeray’s rallies were, as always, electric. His fiery oratory and charismatic presence drew massive crowds, a sharp contrast to the more somber tone of the UBT leadership. Ironically, this charisma served as a force multiplier not for his own party, but for his cousin’s. Raj acted as the star campaigner who energised the anti-BJP vote bank. He successfully articulated the anger against the "Delhi-centric" politics he accuses the BJP of fostering. But when the dust settled, the seats were won by UBT candidates who rode the wave Raj helped create. The MNS chief provided the wind for the sails, but the ship that docked in the BMC was captained by Uddhav. ‘Marathi Asmita’ Stung by the results and the realisation of the unequal exchange, Raj Thackeray took to social media shortly after the counting concluded. In an emotive post, he avoided blaming the alliance partner but instead pivoted back to his ideological roots. Urging his followers to "stick to the issue of Marathi Manoos and Marathi Asmita (pride)," Raj signaled a retreat to the core identity politics that birthed the MNS. It was a somber appeal, stripped of the bravado of the campaign, hinting at a leader who knows he must now rebuild from the rubble. The 2026 BMC election will be remembered as the moment Raj Thackeray proved he could be a kingmaker, even if it meant crowning the rival he once despised. He provided the timely help that allowed the Shiv Sena (UBT) to live to fight another day. But in the ruthless arithmetic of democracy, where moral victories count for little, the MNS stands isolated—a party that gave everything to the alliance and received nothing in return. Ironically, there are people within the UBT who still don’t want to accept this and on the contrary blame Raj Thackeray for dismal performance of the MNS, which they argue, derailed the UBT arithmetic. They state that had the MNS performed any better, the results would have been much better for the UBT.

Small Town Stories, Big Screen Impact

Fifty years after Sholay, Bollywood returns with Dum Laga Ke Haisha, Bareilly Ki Barfi, Stree, and Laapata Ladies, offering honest small-town tales that break stereotypes and showcase India’s diverse cultures as audiences seek authenticity beyond urban glamour.


The glamour and glitz of Bollywood cinema are often associated with the 'big, bad, beautiful' megacities—Mumbai, Delhi, Bangalore, Kolkata, Chennai, and other major metros. The characters in these films embody the gloss and chutzpah of big-city life through costumes, make-up, revealing outfits, item numbers, and bold romance, including intimate scenes. In contrast, small-town communities often appear marginalised and overshadowed by big-budget productions with permissive values, polished visuals, lavish sets, and the full spectacle of sound, colour, music, and dance.


However, India is vast, with a diverse population beyond its major cities. Its people lead varied lives, speak different languages, and have distinct cultures—festivals, music, dance, food, theatre, and literature. As the world’s largest film producer, India’s growing media networks mean audiences outside big cities seek films they can relate to—in stories, settings, songs, and emotions. Bollywood has created a market for small-town movies. These films use local stories and settings that appeal to both regional and national audiences.


The small-town story began long ago. Ramesh Sippy’s Sholay (1975), set in the fictional village of Ramgarh, offers radical portrayals of men and women, showing that small-town characters like Jay, Veeru, Thakur, and Gabbar Singh—real or fictional—should not be underestimated. Sippy carefully crafted distinct speech patterns for each character. The two main female leads provide speech contrasts: one extremely talkative, the other silent, adding depth. Radha (Jaya Bachchan), now silent post-widowhood, is shown in flashbacks as a lively, film-loving maiden. Basanti (Hema Malini), an orphan who drives a tonga ferrying villagers and city folk, is smart, bold, brash, and fearless. Jay and Veeru are rootless, aimless, but good-hearted thieves, courageous enough to face a villain like Gabbar Singh. Sholay’s enduring popularity over 50 years, with global repeat viewings, proves that small towns and villages are far from insignificant.


The small towns and pockets of villages have found strong popularity among the mass audience across the country because the audience in those geographical pockets feels happy with the identification they find in seeing the cities and villages they belong to on-screen, telling some of their own stories.


Over the past decade, Bollywood has switched gears from urban romances like Jaane Tu… Ya Jaane Na (2008), Wake Up Sid (2009), and Break Ke Baad (2010) to romantic comedies set in small towns like Dum Laga Ke Haisha (2015), Bareilly Ki Barfi (2017), and Stree (2018). The marked shift is reflective of certain changes in India’s cultural landscape, shaped by a myriad of socio-economic factors that Bollywood is attempting to keep up with.


Set in the North Indian town of Bareilly, Bareilly Ki Barfi breaks away from big-city romances to present real people—with stammers, crushes, and meddling matchmakers-in a charming small-town love story. Its leading ladies are bold, smart, and assertive, defying the ‘cute and shy’ stereotype often associated with small-town girls. Linking this and a similar film is Chirag Dubey (Ayushmann Khurrana), a modern-day Devdas pining for his Bubbly, now married to someone else. Avinash Das’ Anaarkali of Arrah (2017) follows Anaarkali (Swara Bhaskar), a young woman from Bihar’s Arrah who inherits her mother’s profession—performing erotic song-and-dance numbers for all-male audiences, arranged by a local orchestra and its owner (Pankaj Tripathi). Amid whistles, catcalls, and dancing men, she sways in shimmering costumes to suggestive lyrics. Though far from the virginal ideal, Anaarkali owns her choices and owes no explanations-not even to the man who employs her. The Tanu Weds Manu films (2011, 2015), starring R. Madhavan, Kangana Ranaut, and Jimmy Shergill, explore the charm and humour of Kanpur. Set in real locations, the films’ authenticity and relatable characters stem from their grounded setting. Masaan (2015) weaves two parallel stories exploring class, corruption, love, and loss. Set against the Banaras ghats, the film captures the city’s essence and the tragedy of death.


Small towns as backdrops now resonate with audiences from the hinterlands. While smaller-town viewers relate to these stories, metro audiences may welcome their unpretentiousness as a break from fast-paced life. This cultural shift towards honest portrayals has also driven Bollywood’s de-urbanisation.


The prize goes to Kiran Rao’s hit Laapata Ladies (2024), set in a village and highlighting the cleverness of two small-town brides who are accidentally swapped because their identical red veils covered their faces. Over 100 years after such practices were common, the film proves this custom endures—brides still conceal faces, heads, shoulders, and torsos. If the face is hidden, how can the husband be blamed for picking the wrong bride?


(The author is a films researcher based on Kolkata.)

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