The Pawar Who Trips Often
- Kiran D. Tare

- Nov 8, 2025
- 3 min read
Struggling NCP heir Parth Pawar’s newest scandal revives old doubts about Maharashtra’s most accident-prone dynast.

A Rs. 300-crore land deal gone awry in Pune has once again cast an unflattering light on Parth Pawar, son of Nationalist Congress Party (NCP) leader and Maharashtra’s Deputy Chief Minister Ajit Pawar and grand-nephew of the formidable Sharad Pawar.
Parth has long been a magnet for controversy, the sort of heir whose every attempt to prove his worth seems to end in embarrassment. His dismal record is one long stumble through politics, business and public perception, leaving his family scrambling to contain the damage.
The latest scandal involves the sale of 40 acres of Mahar Vatan government land in Pune’s upscale Mundhwa area to Amadea Enterprises, where Parth is a partner. The transaction, valued at Rs. 300 crore, was registered without the required No Objection Certificate (NOC) from the state and with the stamp duty mysteriously waived. Officials say this caused a loss to the exchequer. The sub-registrar responsible has been suspended, and a high-level committee has been constituted to investigate the “serious irregularities,” as Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis put it.
The facts are damning. The land in question, records show, was listed in the name of Mumbai Sarkar. Yet it was sold by 272 individuals to Amadea through a power of attorney granted to one Shital Tejwani. The transaction, astonishingly, was registered at a token value of Rs. 500 while availing an exemption even as a 2 percent local and metro cess, amounting to Rs. 6 crore, was conveniently ignored.
As the news broke, the Opposition Maha Vikas Aghadi (MVA) predictably pounced upon Parth, putting the ruling Mahayuti coalition on the defensive. “Zero tolerance for corruption,” declared BJP minister Nitesh Rane, even as his own government scrambled to explain how the son of a sitting Deputy CM had managed to buy government land.
Ajit Pawar’s response was as swift as it was familiar. His son, he insisted, was “not aware” that the land was government-owned. The transaction, he said, had been “cancelled” and “no money had changed hands.” Parth and his business partner Digvijay Patil, he claimed, had agreed to withdraw the deal “to avoid even a suspicion of wrongdoing.” For good measure, Ajit Pawar added that he had given CM Fadnavis a free hand to probe “any irregularities” involving his family.
The explanation has done little to quell the ridicule. For Parth, it is yet another addition to a growing résumé of ‘misjudgements.’
Parth first stumbled into public view in 2019 when he contested the Lok Sabha election from Maval in Pune district. At the time, Ajit Pawar had lobbied relentlessly to secure his son the ticket and had campaigned furiously across the constituency to secure his victory. Yet the result was nothing short of catastrophic. Parth lost by over 300,000 votes to Shiv Sena’s Shrirang Barne, becoming the first member of the Pawar family ever to lose an election.
The reasons were plain to voters, if not to Parth. Removed from his sheltered Mumbai upbringing, the English-speaking scion cut an awkward figure on the campaign trail. His maiden speech, lasting barely three minutes, was marred by stutters and hesitations. Social media pounced, christening him ‘Maharashtra’s Pappu.’
Since then, his public interventions have been marked less by conviction than by confusion. He has repeatedly contradicted his party’s positions — from supporting the Maratha quota agitation against the NCP’s cautious line to making impetuous remarks in the wake of actor Sushant Singh Rajput’s death. His grand-uncle Sharad Pawar, normally the embodiment of political restraint, was moved to rebuke him publicly as “immature.”
If the 2019 debacle dented Parth’s political future, subsequent controversies have cemented his reputation as a liability. In 2021, when Income Tax authorities raided businesses linked to Ajit Pawar’s relatives, Parth’s own Mumbai office was not spared. That episode, like this one, ended with clarifications and a familiar refrain of innocence.
To his father’s allies, the younger Pawar’s misadventures are an unfortunate byproduct of dynastic politics. To his detractors, he is a symbol of everything wrong with Maharashtra’s political elite: entitled and unmoored from the public he seeks to represent. Even in the latest scandal, Parth has not spoken publicly, allowing his father to clean up after him.
For now, the government’s probe may well find bureaucratic lapses rather than criminal intent. But in politics, nothing matters like perception. And the perception of Parth Pawar, as the bumbling heir whose every step lands in a puddle, is proving hard to shake.





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