Vanity Fare

The rise of Raj Thackeray’s Maharashtra Navnirman Sena signals the decline of his uncle’s Shiv Sena

The rise of Raj Thackeray’s Maharashtra Navnirman Sena signals the decline of his uncle’s Shiv Sena

IN TRADITIONAL patterns of succession, the purpose of primogeniture—the eldest son claiming the entire inheritance—was to prevent any division of the estate down the generations. The preservation of power was the basic idea. But when the estate in question is a political constituency things are never so straightforward. There is this untransferable thing called charisma that comes in the way, something that Bal Thackeray is ironically learning to his dismay.

Bal Thackeray is the ageing supremo of the Shiv Sena—literally, army of Shivaji, the 17th-century Maratha hero who waged a guerilla war on Mughal forces under Aurangzeb. Right now, as the supremo slowly retires from public life, his grand plans for the Sena’s future are in trouble. Uddhav Thackeray, the supremo’s son, chosen successor and executive president of the Shiv Sena, is faced with a nightmare in the form of his estranged cousin Raj Thackeray, son of the supremo’s late younger brother Shrikant, and Kunda, sister of the supremo’s late wife Meenatai.

Raj is also president of the Maharashtra Navnirman Sena (MNS), a breakaway party that stole a sizeable chunk of Shiv Sena’s vote in the recent Lok Sabha election. With neither party winning any seat in Mumbai, and a Maharashtra Assembly election coming up later this year, it’s a matter of survival for both.

Which of the two gets to control the political legacy of Bal Thackeray has already seen street brawls in Mumbai, the metropolis that has nursed the prickly Maharashtrian sense of identity and grievance that Sainiks draw their aggression from; Marathi speakers here, they allege, are dealt a raw deal by the equal-opportunity ideology of pan-Indianism. Of late, the MNS has been making a bigger noise of it, if you count the battering of kiosks and taxis run by north Indians.

Now, the two cousins seem to be straining for another fight, as neither’s vanity will allow the other to project the power that goes with prowling Mumbai’s alleys to enforce the Sainik writ. The feud between them is so bitter that observers are busy charting out how they think it will change the city and even the state’s political scenario. As polls approach, a new cosiness has been observed between Bal Thackeray and Sharad Pawar of the Nationalist Congress Party (NCP), a ‘nationalist’ breakaway of the Congress that has since become its ally. Meanwhile, whispers are growing louder of a secret pact between the MNS and Congress.

Some of all this can be traced back a few years to Bal Thackeray’s own mellowing, seen in vague hints of his grudging acknowledgement of Shivaji’s own inclusive policies in his day. This ‘weakness’ gave Raj Thackeray just the chance he needed. The ambitious young man, denied the prestige he sought within the Shiv Sena, struck out on his own. Crying betrayal of the cause, he grabbed the Sena’s hardline appeal for himself—a grab that went to the advantage of the Congress, which did rather well in Mumbai.

The guessing is what Uddhav Thackeray will do to regain the clout that the Shiv Sena once had. While his organisational skills are said to be effective, the moderation seen in his aloofness from agitational vandalism could result in further switchovers to the MNS from Shiv Sena cadres.

Uddhav and Raj were not always competitors. Both are former students of Sir JJ School of Arts. If Bal Thackeray started off as a cartoonist, Uddhav fancies himself as a photographer, often holding exhibitions of his forests and historical sites. Raj, however, draws. He is a cartoonist, too, and has even expressed a desire to work for Walt Disney. Like Uddhav, he is also an avid photographer and has even published Bal Keshav Thackeray, a pictography of his uncle. Besides, in aping his uncle’s mannerisms, adopting his voice modulations and presenting a face-cut to cameras that brings out the resemblance, he has done much more to claim succession. So say his supporters.

As for rousing the rabble, Raj’s efforts began long before his fist-waving ways that gave him so much TV airtime last year. It began when he founded the MNS and gave up the cologne cloth he held to his nose in his interactions with Sainiks and others of the hoi polloi.

In comparison, Uddhav is a speaker of refinement, and is not given to theatrics. If the Sena has any semblance of inner-party democracy, it’s his doing. His entry to politics was relatively reluctant, though it was this event that distanced Raj, who had assumed that his uncle’s mantle would be passed on to him—back when the two were seen joking and laughing together. “We have seen unity in the family,” Smita Thackeray, daughter-in-law of Bal Thackeray, once told Open, “They were close. Uddhav was a simple person and loved food. We used to discuss food with him. It is not that Uddhav is wrong or Raj is wrong. Bas nahi jamta hai (They don’t get along, that’s all).”

The split that had Mumbai talking involved a tree plantation drive in 2003. Raj pledged 76 lakh saplings across the state in honour of the supremo’s 76th birthday. It stirred the rivalry up, and thus began Raj’s torment within the party; not a single tree has been planted yet.

Isolated, Raj grew bitter. “Send some flies to my house,” he once demanded, “I will sit and swat them.” In 2004, at a Sena conclave at Mahabaleshwar, his cousin was anointed successor by the supremo, and Raj found himself forced to ratify the decision. That was the final rupture. Raj has been driven to show his cousin up as a weakling ever since, as someone too sissy for the muscular tactics favoured by the supremo in his prime. By proving himself better, he wants to avenge his humiliation. First up was the sons-of-the-soil issue. Further mob mobilisations may come in varying shades of aggression. Just how much more, nobody knows—though the very existence of a document called the Srikrishna Commission Report, on the post-Ayodhya riots of 1992-93, might serve as a restraining factor.

Observers note a restlessness among Sainiks these days. They are itching for action, the kind MNS cadres seem to be getting so much more of. Interestingly, the recession has played a role in upping the MNS’s popularity. As the jobs market has been squeezed, the outflow at the street level has been towards the new party’s ranks. The MNS has aimed its Marathi Manoos message at the ‘golden quadrangle’ of Mumbai, Thane, Pune and Nasik, which has 100 of the Assembly’s 288 seats. This, even as Raj shouts himself hoarse denying any tacit understanding with the Congress.

A patch-up is unlikely; the supremo himself has voiced displeasure at his nephew Raj for the Lok Sabha setback. The Shiv Sena has been out of power at the state level for over a decade, and like its alliance partner BJP, is haunted by a crisis of powerlessness. The Assembly polls, it’s clear, will be a crucial test for Uddhav, who has considered broadbasing the party’s appeal, and might still want to try. Has the party allied itself too closely with Hindutva at the cost of the Marathi Manoos? It’s a question his partymen are mulling.

About The Author

Haima Deshpande