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.
