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By:

Abhijit Joshi

31 August 2024 at 10:09:24 am

The Pawar Paradox Never Ends

As speculation over Sharad Pawar’s equations with the NDA resurfaces, Maharashtra is reminded that its most enduring political constant has always been uncertainty. There is an old Mumbai saying that seasoned political observers have long enjoyed repeating: “Ghode ki laath aur boss ki baat par kabhi bharosa mat karna” (never trust a horse’s kick or a boss’ word; either can come without warning). If Maharashtra’s politicians were updating the proverb today, one more cautionary line would...

The Pawar Paradox Never Ends

As speculation over Sharad Pawar’s equations with the NDA resurfaces, Maharashtra is reminded that its most enduring political constant has always been uncertainty. There is an old Mumbai saying that seasoned political observers have long enjoyed repeating: “Ghode ki laath aur boss ki baat par kabhi bharosa mat karna” (never trust a horse’s kick or a boss’ word; either can come without warning). If Maharashtra’s politicians were updating the proverb today, one more cautionary line would surely be included: “Sharad Pawar ke siyasi faisle par kabhi bharosa mat karna” (never assume you know Sharad Pawar's next political move). Few leaders in independent India have reinvented themselves as often, confounded both allies and adversaries with equal regularity, or remained politically relevant across nearly five decades quite like Sharad Pawar. Every major realignment in Maharashtra has, in one way or another, borne his imprint. Backstairs Intrigue That reputation has once again set the state’s political circles buzzing. A late-night meeting between senior NCP (Sharadchandra Pawar) leader Jayant Patil and Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis, followed by indications that Pawar's party could extend conditional support to the Centre's proposed Delimitation Bill, has revived speculation that Maharashtra may be headed towards yet another political reshuffle. Supriya Sule has firmly dismissed suggestions that her party is preparing to join the NDA, insisting that any support for the Delimitation Bill would depend entirely on safeguards ensuring fairness for every state. Yet, the rumours persist. That, perhaps, is the enduring ‘Pawar effect.’ In Maharashtra, a single meeting involving Sharad Pawar is often enough to trigger discussions of an entirely new government. Pawar’s political career has consistently demonstrated that certainty is an illusion. In 1978, barely 38 years old, he engineered one of Maharashtra’s greatest political upsets. Breaking away from the Congress, he toppled the Vasantdada Patil government and stitched together the Progressive Democratic Front, or Pulod, by bringing together parties separated by ideology but united by arithmetic. He became the state’s youngest Chief Minister, a distinction that still defines his public image. That episode also revealed the two principles that have shaped his politics ever since. Ideology, for Pawar, has rarely been an immovable barrier. Political arithmetic has almost always mattered more. Equally, power has never been viewed as permanent. The pattern repeated itself through the decades. Pawar moved between Congress politics and regional politics with remarkable ease, served as India’s Defence Minister, broke away to establish the Nationalist Congress Party in 1999 over Sonia Gandhi's foreign origin, spent nearly fifteen years governing alongside the Congress, and then stunned the political establishment yet again in 2019 by helping construct the Maha Vikas Aghadi. Few believed the Shiv Sena, Congress and NCP could coexist under one roof. Pawar proved otherwise. Even the dramatic dawn swearing-in of Devendra Fadnavis and the late Ajit Pawar in November 2019 ultimately enhanced Sharad Pawar’s reputation. Within days, he had reunited most of his fractured party and succeeded in installing Uddhav Thackeray as Chief Minister. What initially appeared to be his biggest setback became another demonstration of his political resilience. Today, the Sharad Pawar-led NCP is no longer the formidable organisation it was before the split of 2023. While he retains considerable public goodwill, national stature and a respectable parliamentary presence, his legislative strength within Maharashtra has diminished considerably, prompted questions about the party’s future. Reports suggest that sections within the NCP (SP) are increasingly uncomfortable with the prospect of remaining in perpetual opposition and favour exploring some form of understanding with the BJP. Pawar himself is believed to have resisted such suggestions, while Supriya Sule has repeatedly ruled out any immediate shift. Yet the existence of internal debate appears difficult to dismiss. Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis has publicly asserted that there is no question of new entrants joining the Mahayuti. His statement reflects political logic. The BJP already enjoys numerical dominance alongside Eknath Shinde’s Shiv Sena and Ajit Pawar’s NCP. Bringing Sharad Pawar into the alliance may strengthen the NDA externally, but it could also generate fresh leadership ambitions, competing centres of influence and unnecessary internal tensions. Issue-Based Cooperation If there is any movement, therefore, it is more likely to begin with issue-based cooperation in Parliament than with an immediate formal alliance. That explains why the Delimitation Bill has assumed such significance. Supriya Sule has indicated that her party could support the legislation provided the Centre guarantees a uniform 50 percent increase in parliamentary seats for every state. The position differs from that adopted by several INDIA bloc partners and has naturally fuelled speculation. Yet issue-based support should not automatically be interpreted as political surrender. Sharad Pawar has rarely subscribed to the idea that opposition requires opposing every government initiative. Throughout his career he has maintained working relationships across party lines, often separating legislative cooperation from electoral competition. That flexibility has repeatedly helped him preserve political relevance even when his party's electoral fortunes fluctuated. If, despite present denials, Pawar eventually chooses to support or formally align with the NDA, the consequences would extend well beyond Maharashtra. For the INDIA bloc, it would represent perhaps the most damaging psychological blow in western India, depriving it of one of its most experienced strategists and consensus-builders. Congress would lose a veteran ally at precisely the moment it is attempting to rebuild its organisational strength in Maharashtra. Uddhav Thackeray’s Shiv Sena (UBT) could find itself increasingly isolated, forcing a reassessment of both alliances and political strategy before the next Assembly election. And for the BJP, it would amount to the political neutralisation of perhaps its most accomplished regional rival. Sharad Pawar’s greatest political strength has always been his refusal to close any door before absolutely necessary. Strategic ambiguity has been one of its principal instruments. At 85, he remains among the last practitioners of an older style of coalition politics, where negotiation often counts for more than confrontation, and where tomorrow’s ally may well have been yesterday’s fiercest opponent. (The writer is a political observer. Views personal.

Talikota: An Afternoon that Changed the Deccan

Hussain Nizam Shah I orders the decapitation of Ramaraya (r. 1542-65), the defeated ruler of Vijayanagar. From the manuscript of Ta'rif-i Husain Shahi.
Hussain Nizam Shah I orders the decapitation of Ramaraya (r. 1542-65), the defeated ruler of Vijayanagar. From the manuscript of Ta'rif-i Husain Shahi.

The fall of Vijayanagar was sudden and spectacular. On January 26, 1565, on the plains between the villages of Rakkasi and Tangadi, the last great Hindu empire of South India lost its ruler, its army and its future. Rama Raya, the empire’s all-powerful regent, was captured and beheaded by a confederacy of Deccan sultans.


Within weeks, the imperial capital, one of the richest cities in the early modern world, was given to fire, sword and organised pillage. For nearly six months, Vijayanagar and its hinterland were systematically ravaged. When the invaders departed, they left behind a landscape of ash and broken stone whose ruins linger in Hampi today.


Talikota was no accident of fate but the culmination of a long political unravelling - an implosion brought about as much by Rama Raya’s diplomatic adventurism as by the battlefield treachery that sealed his end.


Founded in the mid-14th century by Harihara I and his brother Bukka, the empire emerged as a response to the relentless Islamic onrush into the Deccan, the “El Dorado of the Mahomedan imagination.” The floodgates were opened when Ala-ud-din Khilji crossed the Vindhyas in 1296 CE to sack Devagiri, (today’s Daulatabad) the capital of the Yadavas of Maharashtra.


As K.A. Nilakanta Sastri observed in his magisterial ‘A History of South India’ (1955), Vijayanagar formed the last great chapter of independent Hindu South India.


Ala-ud-din’s raid dissolved the long-held belief that geography alone could shield the south. As Sultan, he later dispatched his favourite - Malik Kafur – on subsequent incursions into the South. As a counterpoint to these violent expeditions, which brought rich booty while destroying the old royal houses of the South, there was powerful revival of Shaivism in the region, which was at once austere in doctrine and uncompromising in temperament, and infused opposition with moral urgency.


The new Shaivism, egalitarian among its adherents, offered an ideological counterweight to the universalism of Islam and helped explain why Tughlaq authority (which followed the Khiljis), despite its reach, failed to take root across large parts of the Deccan. When Muhammad bin Tughlaq withdrew northwards in 1329, the ground was already prepared for defiance.


The founders of Vijayanagar - Harihara and Bukka (two of the five sons of Sangama), had served the Kakatiya ruler of Warangal before fighting alongside the chieftain of Kampili. Taken to Delhi after Kampili’s fall in 1327, it is said the brothers embraced Islam briefly and expediently, earning the Sultan’s trust before being dispatched south to restore order among rebellious Hindu subjects. What followed is unclear, but as things turned out, the brothers renounced their adopted faith, rallied local elites and established an independent Hindu state on the banks of the Tungabhadra.


Harihara I fashioned an administrative system adapted from the Kakatiyas, organised territory into sthalas and nadus, regularised land revenue, reclaimed wasteland, and created a trained civil service dominated by Brahman officers whose families served the state across generations. These officials were the empire’s spine.


At its apogee under Krishnadeva Raya in the early 16th century, Vijayanagar married this administrative solidity with strategic realism.


While Krishnadeva Raya cultivated Portuguese friendship to secure horses and firearms, he refused to underwrite their political ambitions.


This judgement faltered after Krishnadevaraya’s death. By the time Sadasiva Raya ascended the throne in 1542, power had slipped into the hands of Krishnadeva’s son-in-law, Aliya Rama Raya. While Sadasiva formally remained king, he was in practice, a prisoner in a gilded cage.


Though he never formally deposed Sadasiva, Rama Raya assumed royal titles, governed in his name, and once a year performed the hollow ritual of prostration before the nominal sovereign.


But to secure that power, Rama Raya broke the institutions that constrained him. The trained civil service, long the empire’s bulwark, was systematically purged of its Brahman officers who had opposed his ambitions.


Families that had served Vijayanagar since its foundation vanished abruptly after 1550. Even the Saluvas, once dominant under earlier dynasties, were excluded as loyalty to the state was replaced by loyalty to a man.


The fraying of Vijayanagar’s authority was visible even along the Coromandel coast as well where Portuguese missionaries - Franciscans and Jesuits alike - were demolishing temples and building churches in coastal cities. St. Francis Xavier’s converts on the pearl-fishery coast of the Gulf of Mannar transferred allegiance to Portugal while Martin Afonso de Sousa, the rapacious Portuguese governor of Goa, plundered ports like Bhatkal.


As the Spanish-Jesuit historian Father Henry Heras notes in his ‘The Aravidu Dynasty of Vijayanagara’ (1927): “The Franciscan Friars, who from the beginning were established at St. Thome and at Negapatam, caused several Hindu temples to be desecrated, and idols destroyed, building in their stead many Christian churches and chapels. In the year 1542, they had built at Negapatam [Nagapattinam] two churches... and about three thousand people embraced the Catholic Faith. The Jesuits who came shortly after, followed the examples of the Franciscans.”


While these disturbances were fraying an overextended empire, Rama Raya compounded troubles by courting danger within Vijayanagar’s army.


While Vijayanagar had long employed Muslim contingents recognising their utility, earlier kings like Devaraya I of the Sangama dynasty had limited their influence. They were kept numerically modest and excluded from sensitive commands.


In his anxiety to consolidate his power, Rama Raya abandoned such caution. He recruited Muslim mercenaries and adventurers in large numbers, granting them access that gave them intimate knowledge of the empire’s internal workings which would prove fatal on Vijayanagar’s day of reckoning.


Rama Raya was the first Vijayanagar ruler to entangle himself deeply in the inter-state politics of the Deccan sultanates. Well versed in Muslim statecraft from his earlier service in Golconda, Rama Raya saw opportunity in division. He allied with one sultan against another, switched sides and imposed settlements. And for years, this strategy worked. Vijayanagar recovered lands lost during earlier turmoil, establishing a commanding hegemony over the Deccan.


The premium placed on Rama Raya’s favour was revealed by the lengths to which the Deccan sultans went to secure it. When one of Rama Raya’s sons died, Ali Adil Shah of Bijapur undertook the extraordinary step of travelling to Vijayanagar with a small escort to offer condolences in person. Rama Raya’s wife formally adopted the Sultan as her son, a calculated gesture meant to bind alliance with kinship. Such was the leverage Rama Raya wielded in the internecine politics of the Deccan.


There is no doubt about Rama Raya’s considerable abilities. But his brilliance bred hubris. Where earlier Vijayanagar rulers had balanced power cautiously, Rama Raya sought mastery through manipulation, reportedly treating the ambassadors of the Deccani Sultans with contempt.


That said, the concocted versions of later Muslim chroniclers (including Ferishta), who cite Rama Raya’s alleged insults to Islam and outrages against Muhammedan civilians as the casus belli for the Deccan Sultans forming a confederacy against Vijayanagar, are demonstrably false.


In fact, Rama Raya, far from persecuting Muslims, went to great lengths to accommodate them. According to the contemporary Muslim writer Rafiuddin Shirazi, whose ‘Tazkiratul Muluk’ is the most invaluable contemporary source on the conflict, Rama Raya had assigned a special quarter known as ‘Turkavada’ for the Muslim residents in Vijayanagar.


He permitted the construction of a mosque and allowed cow sacrifice despite protests from Brahmans and his nobles. He even placed a copy of the Qur’an near his throne so Muslim officers might salute it rather than commit the sin of saluting an “infidel master.”


As observed by K.A. Nilakanta Sastri in his ‘Further Sources of Vijayanagar History’ (1946): “The formation of the confederacy of the Muhammadan kings of the Deccan against Rama Raya was not prompted by a desire to avenge the offended dignity of Islam; nor was it due to a feeling of resentment against his unjust aggressions upon their dominions. The real cause of the formation of the confederacy was the fear engendered in the minds of the Deccani Sultans by the rapid growth of Rama Raya’s power.”


Eventually, the five Deccan sultans set aside their old rivalries. Dynastic marriages sealed reconciliation between Ahmednagar and Bijapur. Hussain Nizam Shah gave his gifted daughter, Chand Bibi in marriage to Ali Adil Shah.


By late 1564, the combined armies marched south. Rama Raya knew the trial of strength was coming. On Vijayadashami, September 15, he summoned his nobles and ordered full mobilisation. He remained supremely confident.


The armies met near the Krishna River. Confusion over the precise site persists. Robert Sewell in his ‘A Forgotten Empire: Vijayanagar’ (1900), says while Muhammadan historians place it near Talikota; Hindu records locate it on the plain between Rakkasi and Tangadi, south of the river.


Initial fighting favoured Vijayanagar. The Nizam Shah and Qutb Shah were driven back under fierce assault.


Then, the Deccani sultans they resorted to stratagem. As given in the ‘Keladinrpavijayam,’ they feigned retreat, reopened negotiations, and spread rumours of peace. Chroniclers record that Rama Raya was taken in. Believing his enemies were suing for terms, he relaxed precautions. At the same time, the sultans quietly tampered with the loyalty of Muslim officers in Vijayanagar’s service.


The combined Muslim armies then launched a sudden, coordinated attack. Rama Raya, taken by surprise, nonetheless fought with conspicuous courage.


For a moment, victory still seemed possible. Then came the betrayal. Two prominent Muslim commanders – the Gilani brothers - in Rama Raya’s service, commanding vast contingents, defected in the thick of battle. Their men turned their guns on Vijayanagar’s ranks. Disorder spread instantly as the army broke.


What ensued was total slaughter. The destruction of the Vijayanagar forces was total and the road to Hampi was littered with corpses and no force remained to defend the capital. Ferishta, who gives a graphic account of Rama Raya’s capture by Hussain Nizam Shah, says the latter immediately had him beheaded on the field. Rama Raya’s head was displayed on a pike.


The sack of Vijayanagar that followed ranks among the great urban catastrophes of world history. Palaces, markets and temples were looted and burned. Poets and village records alike testify to the devastation. The victors halted in and around the capital, ravaging the countryside with methodical thoroughness. Not a village in Rayalaseema escaped. When they finally withdrew, Vijayanagar was a smouldering ruin with its smashed temples and broken idols.


Empires often fall when they confuse personal power with state survival. Vijayanagar’s apocalypse was born in its court long before it was enacted on the battlefield.

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