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By:

Anusreeta Dutta

26 April 2026 at 1:22:24 pm

One Maharashtra, Unequal Priorities

Six decades after statehood, constitutional safeguards remain necessary to bridge the gap between western Maharashtra and the regions left behind. Maharashtra is often referred to as India’s economic engine. The state, which is home to Mumbai’s financial ecosystem and Pune’s industrial corridor, contributes about 14 percent to the GDP of India. There is a long-standing dispute behind this achievement that has affected state politics for decades. Is every district in Maharashtra thriving at...

One Maharashtra, Unequal Priorities

Six decades after statehood, constitutional safeguards remain necessary to bridge the gap between western Maharashtra and the regions left behind. Maharashtra is often referred to as India’s economic engine. The state, which is home to Mumbai’s financial ecosystem and Pune’s industrial corridor, contributes about 14 percent to the GDP of India. There is a long-standing dispute behind this achievement that has affected state politics for decades. Is every district in Maharashtra thriving at the same pace? It is not just a political question. It is written into the Constitution proper. Unlike most states in India, Maharashtra has a unique constitutional provision under Article 371(2) which empowers the Governor to ensure that development funding and opportunities are equally shared between Vidarbha, Marathwada and the rest of Maharashtra. The clause was born out of fears that some areas would be forgotten once the state was established in 1960. Six decades later, the existence of this constitutional safeguard raises an uncomfortable question: why does Maharashtra need tools to balance regional development still? Regional Disparity The seeds of regional disparity were sown long before the birth of Maharashtra. Western Maharashtra had early investments in irrigation, cooperative sugar mills, educational institutions and transportation. The centres of industrial growth followed by agricultural commercialisation were Pune, Satara, Sangli, Kolhapur and part of Nashik. Vidarbha and Marathwada chose the other. Agriculture was still heavily dependent on monsoon rains, industrialization was slow and irrigation coverage was less than the state averages. Regional studies in Maharashtra have repeatedly shown that irrigation intensity and agricultural yield are higher in western districts than in much of eastern Maharashtra. These differences subsequently led to calls for institutional safeguards. In contrast, in western Maharashtra, government moves are increasingly geared towards growth, not deficit reduction. The region’s success is built on industrial corridors, logistics infrastructure, urban mobility projects and advanced manufacturing clusters. Pune has emerged as a hub for vehicles, computer technology, defence production and startups. Mumbai remains a major draw for investment in metro rail networks, coastal roadways, financial services infrastructure and international business zones. Agricultural practices in western Maharashtra are in a relatively advanced stage of development. Irrigation coverage is much better than many districts in the east, so the authorities can concentrate on raising productivity, export-oriented, value-added farming and agro-processing industries. Western Maharashtra’s policy, in a nutshell, is to make competitive regions more competitive. Eastern Maharashtra is very different. Here, the Governments have not only focused on accelerating growth but also on reducing the backlog of development. The main policy question is irrigation. For many decades official studies have consistently identified irrigation as the most important factor for regional disparities. Even with dedicated funds, the backlog of irrigation in Vidarbha and Marathwada kept growing, requiring repeated interventions by successive governments. To tackle this, region-specific irrigation corporations, such as Vidarbha Irrigation Development Corporation (VIDC) and Godavari Marathwada Irrigation Development Corporation (GMIDC) were established with a specific mandate to speed up water infrastructure projects. The Union Government has sanctioned a special irrigation package for Vidarbha, Marathwada and draught prone areas of Maharashtra, with an objective to increase irrigation potential and improve water security of the farmers. Even today, a lot of public money is spent on irrigation projects in eastern Maharashtra. Government affidavits and parliamentary replies say crores of rupees are spent every year to make up for irrigation shortfalls and to finish long-pending projects. This emphasis reflects an important reality: while the western part of Maharashtra talks about competitiveness, the eastern part of Maharashtra continues to debate water access. Another area where there are divergent approaches is industrial policy. Market forces have played a major role in the industrial expansion of western Maharashtra, a process assisted by the existing infrastructure and urbanization. In contrast, Eastern Maharashtra has frequently depended on state-led interventions to draw investment to lagging regions. Projects such as the Multi-modal International Cargo Hub and Airport at Nagpur (MIHAN), logistics corridors, special industrial incentives and infrastructure subsidies were to divert industrial expansion away from the Mumbai-Pune region. Likewise, recent government announcements have earmarked Vidarbha to become a future hub for solar energy, semiconductors, aerospace manufacturing and logistics, with Marathwada being pitched for electric vehicle and electronics investments. Whereas in western Maharashtra, the policy tends to buttress pre-existing advantages, in eastern Maharashtra the industrial policy aims to generate such advantages from the beginning. Regional Equilibrium These divisions have persisted, leading to separate institutions of governance. Vidarbha and Marathwada have statutory development boards to monitor regional imbalances and recommend corrective actions. Their emergence is an indication of a broader acceptance that market forces alone have not been adequate to promote balanced growth in Maharashtra. The second capital of Maharashtra is also Nagpur. The same ideology. The state legislature meets every winter in eastern Maharashtra to ensure that the issues concerning the region remain in the political focus. The issues discussed generally are irrigation, agriculture, tribal welfare and regional development in these sessions. The controversy over regional equity, however, is still unresolved. According to critics, despite decades of special packages and focused strategies, many irrigation projects continue to face delays, cost overruns and implementation problems. Several big projects in Vidarbha remain incomplete despite years of cash pledges. There is now a growing body of policy thinking that suggests that Maharashtra may have to give up the very terminology of backlog elimination. In its own discussion on balanced regional development, the state attaches more importance to reforms in governance, diversification of the economy and speeding up growth, than to compensatory spending. The challenge is not just building canals and roadways anymore but building lasting economic ecosystems that can hold on to talent, draw investment and create jobs beyond the traditional Mumbai-Pune boom corridor. The real test for Maharashtra will be whether future policies can turn Vidarbha and Marathwada from regions requiring special support to regions capable of driving growth on their own. Till then Maharashtra’s development story will be two stories. (The author is a columnist and climate researcher with experience in political research analysis and energy policy. Views personal.)

The Soul of Bharat on the Big Screen

Mumbai: April 4, 2025, my heart feels heavier than it ever has. The news hit me like a monsoon storm—Manoj Kumar, the towering legend of Bollywood, the man who painted patriotism across our screens, is no more. At 87, he slipped away at Mumbai’s Kokilaben Dhirubhai Ambani Hospital, leaving behind a reel of memories that flicker in my mind like a projector that won’t stop spinning. As a movie fan who grew up with his films, I’m not just mourning an actor—I’m grieving the loss of a piece of my soul, a piece of India itself. They called him "Bharat Kumar," and oh, how he earned that name.


I remember the first time I saw ‘Upkar’ (1967). I was a kid, sprawled on the living room floor, eyes glued to our old TV. Manoj ji played Bharat, the farmer who gave everything—his dreams, his love—for his country’s soil. That song, “Mere Desh Ki Dharti,” wasn’t just a tune; it was a heartbeat, pulsing with pride and sacrifice. I’d hum it walking to school, feeling like I, too, could be that noble, that selfless. He won a National Film Award for that one, and rightly so—it wasn’t acting; it was living.

Then there was ‘Shaheed’ (1965), where he brought Bhagat Singh back to life. I’d sit there, popcorn forgotten, as he roared defiance against the British, his eyes blazing with a fire that could’ve lit up the darkest colonial night. It wasn’t just a film—it was a revolution on celluloid, a call to remember the blood that bought our freedom. Manoj ji didn’t just play the martyr; he became him, and every time I watch it, I feel that lump in my throat, that sting in my eyes. It’s no wonder it snagged three National Awards—his passion was a gift to us all.


Oh, and ‘Purab Aur Paschim’ (1970)—how do I even begin? He directed and starred as Bharat again, this time wrestling with the clash of East and West, showing us the beauty of our roots while the world tried to pull us away. I’d laugh at Saira Banu’s antics, then choke up when Manoj ji stood tall, singing “Hai Preet Jahan Ki Reet Sada.” It was a blockbuster, sure, but it was more—it was a love letter to India, penned in his signature hand-over-face style. That move, mocked by some, was his shield, his quiet strength, and I adored it.

And who could forget ‘Roti Kapda Aur Makaan’ (1974)? He directed and starred as Bharat—again, because who else could?—tackling poverty, injustice, and the gut-wrenching struggle for the basics of life. I’d watch, fists clenched, as he fought for the everyman, his voice cracking with raw emotion. It wasn’t just a movie; it was a mirror to our society, a cry for change. Seven Filmfare Awards across his career, they say, but this one felt like it carried them all—his heart bled through every frame.


Then there’s ‘Kranti’ (1981), the epic that had me on the edge of my seat. Manoj ji as the freedom fighter, leading Dilip Kumar and Hema Malini through a storm of rebellion—it was grand, it was gritty, it was everything Bollywood could be. “Zindagi Ki Na Toote Ladi” still echoes in my ears, a reminder of the battles he fought on screen, battles that felt so real I’d dream of joining the fight. He didn’t just direct that film; he sculpted a monument to resilience, and I’d cheer like a fool every time he outsmarted the British.


As I sit here, flipping through these memories, I can’t help but feel cheated. Manoj Kumar wasn’t just an actor or director—he was family. Born Harikrishan Goswami in 1937, he carried the Partition’s scars from Abbottabad to Delhi, turning pain into purpose. He gave us over 50 films in a career spanning four decades, snagging the Padma Shri in 1992 and the Dadasaheb Phalke Award in 2015—honors that felt too small for a man who gave India its cinematic soul. His last role in ‘Jai Hind’ (1999) might’ve flopped, but it didn’t dim his light in my eyes.


I’d read how he met Bhagat Singh’s mother before ‘Shaheed’, seeking her blessing—can you imagine the weight of that? Or how PM Lal Bahadur Shastri urged him to make ‘Upkar’ after the 1965 war, handing him “Jai Jawan Jai Kisan” like a sacred torch? That’s who he was—a man who didn’t just entertain but carried a nation’s dreams.


Manoj ji, you weren’t just “Bharat Kumar” to me—you were the uncle who taught me pride, the friend who shared my anger, the poet who sang my hopes. Your films weren’t movies; they were my childhood, my rebellion, my tears. I’ll miss you like I miss the India you dreamed of—flawed, fierce, and forever ours. Rest in peace, sir. Om Shanti.

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