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By:

Abhijit Joshi

31 August 2024 at 3:39:24 pm

Battle for the Bow and Arrow

The Shiv Sena dispute before the Supreme Court is no longer just about MLAs and symbols, but about what legally defines a political party. AI generated image The fight over the Shiv Sena has moved well beyond Maharashtra’s familiar political theatre. In the Supreme Court, the dispute has narrowed to a question that is less dramatic on the surface but potentially far more consequential: what exactly makes a political party a political party? Is it the elected strength of its legislators? The...

Battle for the Bow and Arrow

The Shiv Sena dispute before the Supreme Court is no longer just about MLAs and symbols, but about what legally defines a political party. AI generated image The fight over the Shiv Sena has moved well beyond Maharashtra’s familiar political theatre. In the Supreme Court, the dispute has narrowed to a question that is less dramatic on the surface but potentially far more consequential: what exactly makes a political party a political party? Is it the elected strength of its legislators? The organisation outside the legislature? The party constitution on record with the Election Commission? Or some combination of all three? That question lies at the centre of the legal battle between the factions led by Eknath Shinde and Uddhav Thackeray. Two Claims Senior advocate Neeraj Kishan Kaul, appearing for the Shinde faction, has defended the Election Commission’s February 17, 2023 decision, recognising the Shinde camp as the Shiv Sena and allotting it the bow-and-arrow symbol. The Thackeray faction has challenged that decision. The bench is also dealing with challenges connected to the Maharashtra Assembly Speaker’s January 2024 decision on disqualification petitions. The Thackeray faction, represented by senior advocates Kapil Sibal and Devadatt Kamat, has drawn a sharp distinction between the political party and its legislature wing. Its argument is a group of MLAs breaking away from the legislative wing does not automatically mean that the political party itself has changed hands. The party’s organisation, structure and identity cannot simply be equated with the numbers sitting in the Assembly. The Shinde faction says the dispute was never merely about legislators walking out. According to its argument, the rupture extended into the wider political organisation, with competing meetings, resolutions and claims of support from party workers and functionaries. The legislative split was, in its telling, only one visible part of a larger party-wide conflict. That distinction determines whether the Election Commission could legitimately intervene under Paragraph 15 of the Election Symbols Order and decide which rival faction represented the recognised political party. Kaul has argued that the Commission was entitled to consider the wider organisational dispute rather than treating the matter as a purely legislative rebellion. Constitutional Tussle The courtroom fight has also brought an old Shiv Sena document back into the spotlight. Kaul has relied heavily on the constitution placed on record with the Election Commission after the poll panel raised objections to the party’s earlier structure. The material before the court says the Commission had, in the late 1990s, pushed for a more democratic organisational structure, including changes to the manner in which party office-bearers were selected. The 1999 constitution subsequently went on record. The Shinde side says the 2018 constitution represented a significant departure from that structure. Its argument is that the later arrangement concentrated substantial authority in the party chief and relied extensively on nominated or appointed office-bearers rather than elected organisational bodies. It has also questioned why its leaders participated in the organisational structure created under the 2018 arrangement and did not object to it at the time. Kaul has further argued that the 2018 constitution relied upon by the Thackeray faction was not registered with the Election Commission, while the 1999 constitution was on the Commission’s record. This has become a significant element of the Shinde faction’s case. The Thackeray faction, meanwhile, has relied on the Supreme Court’s earlier Constitution Bench judgment in the Subhash Desai matter to reinforce the distinction between a political party and its legislature party. The earlier judgment’s discussion about not conflating the political party with its legislature wing arose in the context of questions such as who could appoint the whip. It did not, according to the Shinde side, mean that the Election Commission must ignore legislative strength altogether when determining which faction represents a recognised political party. The Shinde side has also invoked the Sadiq Ali case, arguing that legislative majority remains a relevant consideration in a party-symbol dispute. The case has therefore increasingly begun to look like a legal examination of the Election Commission’s decision-making process. The Thackeray faction has questioned the Commission’s jurisdiction and the basis on which it concluded that there was a party-wide split. Its challenge effectively asks whether the Commission went too far in examining the internal structure of the Shiv Sena. The Shinde faction argues that Article 324 gives the Election Commission broad powers and that, when two groups claim the same recognised party, the Commission has to examine the party constitution, organisational structure and available evidence to identify which group represents the party. The practical difficulty is obvious. The Election Commission cannot ask every Shiv Sena member whom they support. Nor can it conduct a referendum among every booth-level worker. Kaul has therefore defended the organisational-majority approach as a workable method of assessing cadre support through recognised organisational bodies and elected representatives. The Shinde camp has also brought the events after the 2019 Maharashtra Assembly election into the argument. Shiv Sena and BJP fought the election together, but the government subsequently formed under Uddhav Thackeray was with Congress and NCP. According to the Shinde side, that political realignment created discontent among sections of the Shiv Sena organisation and contributed to the eventual split. The Thackeray faction disputes the broader narrative and maintains that the legislative rebellion cannot simply be converted into proof that the political party itself changed hands. It has also challenged the Maharashtra Speaker’s decision not to disqualify MLAs from either faction. The Supreme Court has examined questions about what could follow if that decision were set aside, including whether consequential disqualification could arise under the Tenth Schedule. Party recognition and legislative disqualification arise under different legal frameworks. The Shinde side has argued that earlier cases concerning disqualification cannot simply be transplanted into the Election Commission’s determination under the Symbols Order. The real question is no longer simply who has more MLAs. It is whether those MLAs, the party organisation, the constitution and the cadre can legally be treated as parts of the same answer. (The writer is a political observer. Views personal.)

The Beautiful Chaos of Indian Fashion

Writer: Samujjwala
Samujjwala
Jun 8
3 min read

India's traditional clothing offers more than heritage—it offers a blueprint for a sustainable and inclusive fashion future.

Fashion is a universal medium of human expression, stretching far beyond mere clothing. It is a living intersection of art and culture. For India, a nation with thousands of years of rich textile history, the modern fashion journey has been both profoundly beautiful and chaotic. As a society navigating a post-colonial identity, India holds the ancestral answers to modern fashion’s greatest crises, inclusivity and sustainability, yet it continuously fights for its own narrative.


Colonial Shadows

The mindset of modern India remains deeply influenced by Western standards of style. Following centuries of colonial rule, traditional attire was long stereotyped as ceremonial or outdated, forcing indigenous garments into the shadows of everyday life.


India boasts an unparalleled geography of textiles, from the regal Pashmina of Kashmir to the intricate Kanjivaram of Tamil Nadu, alongside Banarasi silk, Sambalpuri ikat, and Patola weaves.


Despite this vast heritage, these regional masterpieces often remain unseen by the masses. They rarely become the face of mainstream fashion until a red-carpet celebrity showcases them at a global event.


This reliance on celebrity endorsement creates an unstable ecosystem. Traditional crafts are often treated as temporary trends rather than permanently valued art forms, leaving artisans vulnerable when the spotlight shifts.


Fashion Without Labels

Long before the global fashion industry popularised terms like “gender-neutral” or "androgynous", Indian fashion was inherently fluid. Ancient Indian attire relied primarily on unstitched, draped fabrics that defied rigid gender binaries.


This fluidity is reflected across India's classical artistic traditions. For generations, legendary Kathak masters, such as Pandit Birju Maharaj, performed in flowing panels of fabric that transcended gender categorisation.


Garments like the saree, dhoti, and kurta were originally designed around the human form, prioritising body positivity, individual comfort, and ease of movement.


Modern life relies heavily on structured Western clothing, leading many people away from the comfort and inclusivity of traditional draped garments.


Sustainable Blueprint

The rise of the global fast fashion industry has introduced a rapid, throwaway consumer culture that is neither economically stable nor environmentally safe. Traditional Indian fashion still holds an ancestral blueprint for a zero-waste and circular economy.


A traditional saree or veshti requires no cutting or tailoring. Because the fabric remains whole, there is zero textile waste during production.


Indian clothing was never disposable. Luxury handloom pieces were passed down as family heirlooms. When worn out, they were systematically repurposed into household quilts (kantha) or even cleaning items such as pochas (cloth mops), cushion covers, or patches for new garments.


As the world struggles with the ecological destruction of synthetic microfibres, India’s natural handlooms offer a sustainable alternative.


Khadi is more than just hand-spun, handwoven cotton; it is a philosophy of self-reliance and environmental harmony. It naturally breathes, keeping the wearer cool in summer and warm in winter. Utilising organic cotton, natural fibres, and plant-based dyes such as indigo and madder root, traditional Indian textile production leaves a near-zero carbon footprint. By prioritising these indigenous materials, the global fashion industry can sustain both its cultural value and the health of the planet.


The modern fashion industry is trapped by rigid standards and fast-fashion habits dictated by the West. Yet, the blueprint to break this cycle has survived centuries of colonial chaos, quietly preserved across India’s history. Traditional Indian attire was never bound by strict gender binaries or size restrictions; it was built for individual comfort and body positivity. By blending these deeply inclusive philosophies with India’s vast world of indigenous fabrics, prints, and zero-waste drapes, we can do more than just celebrate heritage; we can change the future of clothing. Looking inward allows us to turn fashion on its head, proving that style doesn’t have to contribute to global waste. Instead, it can return to what it was always meant to be: a sustainable medium of living art, comfort, and true human expression.

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