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By:

Akhilesh Sinha

25 June 2025 at 2:53:54 pm

Ideology, Illusion, and the Politics of Power

Leader of Opposition in the Lok Sabha Rahul Gandhi greets supporters during a roadshow ahead of the Kerala assembly polls, in Kozhikode district on Tuesday. | Pic: PTI New Delhi:  At a critical electoral juncture in Kerala, the political contest being waged in the name of ideology appears less about public welfare and more like a renewed struggle for the division of power. Kerala's electoral battle exposes contradictions between ideology and alliances, as BJP, Congress, and Left trade...

Ideology, Illusion, and the Politics of Power

Leader of Opposition in the Lok Sabha Rahul Gandhi greets supporters during a roadshow ahead of the Kerala assembly polls, in Kozhikode district on Tuesday. | Pic: PTI New Delhi:  At a critical electoral juncture in Kerala, the political contest being waged in the name of ideology appears less about public welfare and more like a renewed struggle for the division of power. Kerala's electoral battle exposes contradictions between ideology and alliances, as BJP, Congress, and Left trade accusations while prioritizing power, leaving voters questioning credibility, governance plans, and commitment to justice.   At the national level, the Congress and the Left position themselves as opponents of the Bharatiya Janata Party and Prime Minister Narendra Modi. Yet before the public, they often appear equally eager to undercut one another. In Parliament, they join hands to bring no-confidence motions and accuse the government of misusing investigative agencies. However, at the state level, this coordination is conspicuously absent. In Kerala, Congress leader Rahul Gandhi has alleged a nexus between the CPI(M) and the SDPI, even hinting at tacit understandings between the BJP and the Left. Meanwhile, LDF Chief Minister Pinarayi Vijayan has dismissed these claims as "entirely baseless."   This persistent friction reinforces the impression that ideology has become largely symbolic, while the real contest revolves around consolidating vote banks and securing seats. The Left, invoking the language of "pragmatic alliances," signals readiness to align with the Congress at the national level. Yet in Kerala, it faces accusations of straying from its foundational principles, even as it projects itself as the principal alternative to the BJP.   Conspiracy factor Congress leader Rahul Gandhi has repeatedly asserted in his campaign rallies that this election is a contest between two ideologies-the Left and the UDF. Yet, he claims, for the first time there is an "unprecedented partnership" emerging between the Left and the BJP. He alleges that the CPI(M) can be easily controlled by the BJP, whereas the Congress-led UDF would not play into its hands. Such assertions risk creating the impression that ideological confrontation has now given way to a politics of expedient compromises.   On the other hand, CM Pinarayi Vijayan firmly maintains that his party neither seeks support from the SDPI nor engages in any covert understanding with communal forces. He portrays the Left Democratic Front as a formation grounded in "clear ideological principles" and resolutely opposed to communal politics. The contradiction here is striking that just as the BJP accuses the Congress and the Left of collusion, the Congress and the Left, in turn, level similar charges of "compromise" against each other.   Confused Electorate In Kerala's electoral theatre, PM Modi has branded both the UDF and the LDF as "each other's B team," while projecting the BJP as the only genuine "A team." His argument rests on the claim that the state has, for decades, been trapped between two traditional power blocs, one corrupt and the other allegedly even more so. He contends that both alliances have deceived the public through vote-bank politics, whereas the BJP now promises to "expose" their corruption and deliver "justice."   The larger question remains, when the Left and the Congress join hands in Parliament to oppose the BJP, is their unity rooted in a principled stand against the ruling party BJP/NDA, or is it merely political theatre calibrated for electoral convenience? If both claim to be ideologically committed formations, what justifies their readiness to confront each other in the states and often aggressively over vote banks?   Real Issues At the national level, the Left often raises its voice on substantive constitutional and economic questions; corruption, public debt, privatization, and decentralization. Yet, in the heat of elections, these very debates are reduced to the arithmetic of vote banks and seat shares. The BJP, as the ruling party, seeks to anchor its campaign in development metrics, flagship projects like the Vizhinjam Port, and symbolic initiatives such as the Nari Shakti Vandan Act, presenting them as tangible achievements before the electorate. The opposition, in turn, attempts to recast these same initiatives as narratives of "debt" and "plunder."

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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