top of page

By:

Rajendra Pandharpure

15 April 2025 at 7:55:54 pm

The BJP’s Ganesha Gambit

Pune’s Ganeshotsav has become an enormous civic and political stage, and the ruling party has proved adept at occupying it. Pune: The city’s Ganeshotsav is entering its final phase, but the festival has already demonstrated something beyond its extraordinary crowds and familiar spectacle: the extent to which it has become a political stage. This year, the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) has left a particularly visible imprint on the festivities, using an event that reaches deep into the city’s...

The BJP’s Ganesha Gambit

Pune’s Ganeshotsav has become an enormous civic and political stage, and the ruling party has proved adept at occupying it. Pune: The city’s Ganeshotsav is entering its final phase, but the festival has already demonstrated something beyond its extraordinary crowds and familiar spectacle: the extent to which it has become a political stage. This year, the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) has left a particularly visible imprint on the festivities, using an event that reaches deep into the city’s neighbourhoods as an opportunity for public outreach. The political appropriation of the festival has not, however, been without a counter-current. Demands were raised for curbs on noise pollution, loudspeakers and the volume of dhol-tasha performances. The argument was not against Ganeshotsav itself, but for moderation - notably, a complete ban on DJ music and limits on the number of dhol and tasha instruments used by performing troupes. Familiar Troubles The festival’s reality has been rather different. Major roads have been occupied by mandaps. Processions celebrating the arrival of Lord Ganesha have unfolded amid punishing noise. DJ music, while subject to restrictions, has continued. Traffic congestion has become a familiar feature of the festival, with the movement of political leaders adding another layer to the city’s already strained roads. The Peth areas have remained crowded deep into the night. The Shrimant Dagdusheth Halwai Ganpati temple has drawn enormous crowds for darshan from the opening day. From the old city to housing societies and neighbourhood mandals, Ganeshotsav touches virtually every part of Pune. For a political party seeking a direct connection with citizens, few occasions offer such a ready-made network of people, institutions and local influencers. The BJP enters this festival with an unusually formidable organisational base. It has two MPs, seven MLAs and more than 100 corporators in Pune. Murlidhar Mohol, one of the city’s MPs, is a Union Minister of State. Chandrakant Patil is a Cabinet minister in the Maharashtra government, while Madhuri Misal is a Minister of State. The party’s presence also extends into the festival’s organisational architecture. Its influence is visible across numerous mandals, large and small. BJP MLA Hemant Rasane is General Secretary of the Shrimant Dagdusheth Halwai Sarvajanik Ganpati Trust. Kunal Tilak, a member of Lokmanya Tilak’s family, is a BJP corporator. The political and cultural histories of Pune therefore intersect in ways that are difficult to ignore. The BJP’s senior leadership has also made the most of the occasion. National President Nitin Nabin visited Pune to seek Lord Ganesha’s blessings, while Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis visited the city before and during the festival. Such visits are about more than religious observance. In a festival watched by millions and embedded in the city’s social life, political visibility comes almost automatically. There is also talk in Pune that the BJP provided substantial financial support to Dhol-Lezim troupes and their organisers, with claims that some major mandals received financial backing as well. These claims would require independent verification, but the perception itself points to the depth of the political contest around Ganeshotsav. BJP workers, according to local observers, have also sought to make their presence more conspicuous than that of festivities organised by housing societies. Useful Expedient The festival arrives at a politically useful moment for the BJP. The party has faced disquiet on several fronts. Young people have been agitated over the paper-leak controversy. Broader public dissatisfaction has been voiced over inflation and unemployment, while government policies relating to ethanol and charges associated with UPI transactions have also generated criticism. While a political party can defend a policy in a press conference and advertise its achievements, during Ganeshotsav, its workers can be physically present in neighbourhoods, among processions, mandals, cultural groups and devotees. Politics thus becomes less about argument and more about visibility. That is the BJP’s advantage in Pune. Ganeshotsav, after all, is not simply a sequence of religious rituals. It is an elaborate civic network involving local organisers, volunteers, cultural groups, businesses, residents and political representatives. Whoever has influence over that network acquires a powerful channel of communication with the city. The BJP appears to understand this particularly well. Its strength in Pune’s electoral politics has been reinforced by a presence that extends beyond elections and into the institutions and social spaces that organise public life. The irony is that the very scale of the festival that makes it politically attractive also magnifies the civic costs. The political value of Ganeshotsav and the civic burden it creates are therefore two sides of the same phenomenon. For Pune, the larger question is not whether politics has entered Ganeshotsav. It has done so for decades. The more consequential question is whether the festival’s extraordinary social capital will remain primarily a vehicle for political outreach or whether the same influence can be used to reconcile celebration with the ordinary civic needs of the city. For the moment, the BJP seems to have understood the first proposition better than most.

Uddhav Thackeray’s Long March Ahead

Writer: Abhijit Joshi
Abhijit Joshi
Jun 19
4 min read

While defections may weaken the Shiv Sena (UBT), Maharashtra’s politics is shaped as much by emotion and identity as by arithmetic.

As the Shiv Sena marks the 60th anniversary of its foundation, the celebrations are accompanied by introspection as much as festivity. Both factions - the Shiv Sena led by Deputy Chief Minister Eknath Shinde and the Shiv Sena (UBT) led by Uddhav Thackeray - continue to claim ownership of the party’s legacy, ideology and emotional bond with Maharashtra's electorate. Yet one development continues to reverberate across the state: the steady migration of leaders from Uddhav Thackeray’s camp to the Shinde-led Sena.


Political Flip-Flop

The latest reports suggest that six of the nine Shiv Sena (UBT) Members of Parliament may align themselves with Shinde in what has been described as ‘Operation Tiger.’ The larger question, however, concerns the ordinary Shiv Sainik, the grassroots worker who spends years campaigning, mobilising supporters and defending the party through good times and bad.


For such workers, political realignments often produce confusion and disillusionment. One day they are instructed to oppose a rival faction; the next, they find their leaders sharing platforms with former adversaries. The dilemma is profound: whom should they follow, and where does their loyalty now lie? As the Shiv Sena enters its seventh decade, the future of its cadre may matter as much as the future of its leadership.


Regional parties in India rarely disappear overnight. They endure electoral setbacks, organisational crises, leadership feuds and even the loss of their symbols. What allows them to survive is the emotional connection between their leaders and their grassroots workers. The undivided Shiv Sena founded by Balasaheb Thackeray in 1966 remains perhaps the clearest example of this phenomenon.


Rebellions Galore

Over the past three decades, the party has weathered a series of rebellions. In 1991, Chhagan Bhujbal departed with a significant section of the organisation. In 2005, Narayan Rane rebelled, expecting dozens of legislators to follow him, though only a handful eventually did. Raj Thackeray’s exit in 2006 inflicted a deep emotional and organisational wound, even though no MLA initially joined him. The most damaging rupture came in 2022, when Eknath Shinde led a revolt involving 40 legislators, bringing down the Uddhav Thackeray government and eventually securing control of the original Shiv Sena name and its iconic bow-and-arrow symbol.


Now, four years later, Uddhav Thackeray faces another test. If the reported departure of six MPs materialises, the party’s parliamentary presence would be substantially weakened. Yet it would merely constitute another chapter in the long and turbulent struggle over Balasaheb Thackeray’s political inheritance.


What is striking is that every rebellion in the Shiv Sena’s history has shared a common feature. Chhagan Bhujbal's departure was shaped by the political churn of the Mandal-versus-Kamandal era and his rivalry with Manohar Joshi. Narayan Rane believed that Uddhav Thackeray's rise blocked his own path to the top. Raj Thackeray reached a similar conclusion, convinced that Balasaheb’s preference for his son limited his prospects within the organisation. Even Shinde’s revolt was rooted in the perception that Uddhav’s leadership style had become an obstacle to the ambitions of many senior leaders.


Despite these repeated schisms, the Shiv Sena’s core support base has displayed remarkable resilience. The average Shiv Sainik has historically remained loyal not merely to an election symbol but to a broader sense of identity, ideology and belonging. Above all, that loyalty has been anchored in the enduring memory of Balasaheb Thackeray.


That emotional capital remains Uddhav Thackeray’s greatest political asset. The evidence was visible in the 2024 Lok Sabha election. Despite losing the party name and symbol, the Shiv Sena (UBT) secured nine parliamentary seats. Although the party subsequently suffered setbacks in the Maharashtra Assembly election, the Lok Sabha outcome demonstrated that a substantial section of Marathi voters continued to regard Uddhav Thackeray as the authentic political heir to Balasaheb’s legacy.


The challenge before him today, however, differs fundamentally from the one faced by his father. Balasaheb commanded the organisation through charisma, authority and an almost unmatched emotional hold over the cadre. Uddhav must instead rely on organisation, persistence and sustained public engagement. The next three years will therefore be decisive.


If he intends to remain a serious contender ahead of the 2029 Lok Sabha and Assembly elections, he will have to spend considerably more time on the ground. Reconnecting with workers, rebuilding local leadership structures and expanding the party beyond the politics of sympathy will be essential. Electoral revival cannot be achieved through nostalgia alone.


There is, however, one development that could reshape the political landscape. The recent rapprochement between Uddhav and Raj Thackeray has revived hopes of a broader Marathi political consolidation. After years of rivalry, the Thackeray cousins appear to have recognised that political survival may require cooperation rather than competition. Should this understanding evolve into a durable alliance, it could consolidate the Marathi vote in urban Maharashtra, particularly in Mumbai, Thane, Nashik and parts of the Konkan.


For Uddhav Thackeray, the immediate future remains difficult. Organisational defections continue to haunt the party, and reports suggest that legislators, too, are being courted by rival camps. Yet Maharashtra’s political history offers a useful reminder. The Shiv Sena has repeatedly survived predictions of its demise. Every split has weakened the organisation; none has succeeded in severing its emotional connection with a significant section of its cadre.


The battle for the Shiv Sena is therefore no longer merely a contest over legislators, MPs or election symbols. It is a struggle over memory, legitimacy and identity. Eknath Shinde may possess the official party name, the symbol and a larger legislative presence. Uddhav Thackeray, however, still retains a considerable portion of the emotional constituency that Balasaheb painstakingly built over five decades.


Whether that emotional reservoir can once again be converted into electoral success remains the defining question. The answer will be determined on the streets, in shakhas and among party workers across Maharashtra over the next three years.


For now, Uddhav Thackeray stands politically wounded, but far from defeated. In Maharashtra politics, that distinction often matters more than the numbers.

Comments

bottom of page