Fly on the wall
Harish Gupta
One
Party, Two Bosses? The Perils of Reuniting the NCP
Speculation
over a re-union of the two factions of the Nationalist Congress Party
— one led by Sharad Pawar and the other by his nephew Ajit Pawar —
has gathered pace, making it one of Maharashtra’s most closely
watched political developments. What started as a limited tactical
understanding for a municipal election in Pimpri-Chinchwad has
snowballed into serious talk of a formal merger, surprising even
seasoned observers of Pawar politics.
The
broad outline being discussed appears deceptively simple: Sharad
Pawar would reclaim the position of supreme leader of a reunited NCP,
while Ajit Pawar would continue as the undisputed power center in
Maharashtra’s day-to-day politics and governance. On paper, it
seems like a neat division of authority — the patriarch as national
face and moral anchor, the nephew as the operational strongman.
But
this formula is fraught with risk. Ajit Pawar is no longer the
rebellious lieutenant he once was. After splitting the party,
aligning with the BJP and securing the deputy chief minister’s
post, he has tasted power independently, built his own network and
demonstrated electoral and administrative clout. In the process, he
has proved his worth not just as a survivor, but as a boss in his own
right.
That
raises the central question haunting merger talks: why would Ajit
Pawar willingly return to a subordinate role under Sharad Pawar,
especially when he commands legislators, resources and leverage? A
re-union may help consolidate the NCP vote base and reduce
fragmentation, but it also risks reopening old fault lines over
authority, succession and control. For Sharad Pawar, the merger is
about legacy. For Ajit Pawar, it is about power and autonomy.
Reconciling the two may prove far more complicated than stitching
together a pre-poll alliance.
How
ED Blinked as Mamata Seized the Moment
Why
did central officers not resist Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee when
she arrived at the premises of I-PAC, questioned the raid, and
reportedly walked away with files and material? And why did the
agency appear to yield ground at the very moment its authority was
being challenged?
One
explanation doing the rounds in political and bureaucratic circles is
institutional caution bordering on strategic retreat. Any attempt by
ED officers to physically stop a sitting chief minister could have
spiraled instantly—legally, politically and on the streets. The
optics of central officers restraining Banerjee would have handed her
a dramatic visual narrative of federal overreach, potentially
triggering unrest in Kolkata and beyond.
There
is also speculation that officers on the ground sought directions
from senior officials in Delhi and were advised to back off.
The Delhi bosses sought the advice of their political masters too.
Whether or not such instructions were explicitly given or consulted,
could be anybody's guess. However, former bureaucrats say the
“default rule” in such high-voltage situations is to avoid
confrontation with constitutional authorities and let the legal
process catch up later. As one former home secretary remarked
privately, “You don’t win battles like this with muscle. You win
them with paper and patience.”
In
effect, the ED’s non-resistance reflects a larger strategic
dilemma: enforcing the law without feeding a political narrative
designed for confrontation. By stepping back, the agency may have
preserved legal ground—but at the cost of appearing politically
overawed. For Mamata Banerjee, that perception itself may have been
the real prize. A final word will, however, come from the judiciary
on the issue.
Fear
of the Women’s Vote: BJP’s Bengal Dilemma
Just
before a crucial Assembly election in Bihar, the Nitish Kumar
government had announced a ₹10,000 payout to women under the Chief
Minister’s Employment Scheme. The move dramatically altered the
state’s political landscape. Around the same time, a video went
viral from Bihar’s Belaganj seat in which a senior BJP leader was
heard telling a journalist that women would not dare step out of
their homes to vote for Nitish Kumar—and that any woman who did so
would face consequences. The video caused serious embarrassment to
the BJP, but it also revealed a deeper truth: women voters in Bihar
had cut across caste lines to back Nitish Kumar.
A
strikingly similar situation is now unfolding in West Bengal. A
statement by BJP leader and state committee member Kalyan Sen Gupta
has gone viral, in which he claims that women will vote for Mamata
Banerjee because they benefit from the Lakshmir Bhandar scheme, and
therefore women should be confined to their homes on polling day. The
remark exposes not confidence, but fear within the BJP.
Mamata
Banerjee’s government has been running the Lakshmir Bhandar scheme
since 2021, under which women receive direct monthly cash transfers.
Women from SC and ST communities get ₹1,200 per month, while others
receive ₹1,000. Much like schemes such as Ladli Behna or Maiya
Samman in other states, the program has had a deep political impact.
In a state where feminine power and goddess worship are culturally
embedded, the BJP often finds itself at a disadvantage.
Beyond
Lakshmir Bhandar, the Trinamool Congress government runs several
women-centric welfare and empowerment schemes. This has heightened
BJP’s anxiety that women voters may rise above caste and religious
identities to vote decisively for Mamata Banerjee’s party—reshaping
Bengal’s political battle once again.
Rekha Gupta’s
‘History Lessons’
Social media is having
a field day over Delhi Chief Minister Rekha Gupta’s growing
collection of “slips of the tongue”—though many are now asking
whether these are slips at all, or something more fundamental. The
trouble began when Gupta managed to misfire on not one but two of
India’s tallest freedom fighters: Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose and
Bhagat Singh, triggering frantic damage control by BJP colleagues.
During the winter
session of the Delhi Assembly, Gupta recalled the martyrdom of Bhagat
Singh, Sukhdev and Rajguru, but said Bhagat Singh hurled a bomb to
awaken a “deaf Congress government.” History, unfortunately,
records that it was the British Raj—not the Congress—that
executed Bhagat Singh. Days earlier, while invoking Netaji, Gupta
referred to him as “Netaji Subhas Chandra Palace,” inadvertently
renaming a revolutionary icon after a popular Pitampura marketplace
known as NSP.
The list of gaffes has
since grown: garbage hills being coaxed to leave “like brothers,”
AQI described as “temperature,” and repeated historical misfires.
Gupta has responded by introducing a gender angle, claiming the
Opposition mocks her because it “cannot tolerate a woman CM at
work.”
That argument,
however, sits awkwardly in a city that has already seen three women
chief ministers—without similar meme-festivals. Satire thrives not
on gender, but on content. And in politics, as in history, the first
rule is simple: facts matter. Especially when invoking martyrs who no
longer have the luxury of correcting you.