THE Maratha ‘uprising’ across Maharashtra, about eight month old now, has not hit national headlines, at least not in the manner the Jat confrontation against the state or rise of Gujjars did. Even the Patel mobilization in Gujarat and its challenge to no less than Narendra Modi himself made Hardik Patel into a subaltern hero. The national media, possibly, has missed the social and political content of the Maratha uprising even though the rather sudden mammoth marches organized by the Maratha community, in over two dozen cities in Maharashtra, has shaken the foundation of the state and its superficially stable polity. So why has it not become a national issue, a media event, either in Parliament or among analysts?

For one, so far, not a single stone has been thrown, nor any bus or train set on fire. No politician or non-Maratha leader has been physically assaulted. No violence has spilled on to the streets, nor has the state assembly witnessed noisy disruptions. Even the Marathi media coverage has been remarkably neutral, with most TV commentators neither condemning the ‘casteist’ demonstrations nor eulogizing them. Notably, there is no identifiable leader of the agitation (like Hardik Patel) nor any one particular organization mobilizing or guiding the marches, generally estimated (or claimed) to be between 10 to 30 lakh strong! A federation of over 50 Maratha organizations from all over the state gives a call to march in a particular city, and Marathas from all over throng to the venue. An interesting feature of these marches is that they are remarkably disciplined and silent, without slogans or songs. The volunteers ensure that no garbage is strewn around after the morcha, and even though traffic may be affected, routine life is not. As a result, the TV debates too have been rather sober and, though polarized, within the lakshman rekha of democratic discourse.

Some Maratha politicians, masterminds in the skulduggery of caste politics, appear to have a hidden agenda – that of destabilizing the BJP-Shiv Sena government headed by a brahmin Chief Minister, Devendra Fadanvis. The previous brahmin Chief Minister, Manohar Joshi (Shiv Sena), was in 1995, the first since the formation of the state in 1960. That too was a BJP-Sena alliance, though the government was led by the Sena.

 

Actually, there is a dialectical, if not adversarial, relationship between the BJP and Shiv Sena. Conventionally, the BJP’s social base is primarily upper caste, upper class, urban, educated and white collar (there has been a big change since then). The Sena, in contrast, draws its strength from the working class, in part won over from the communists and socialists, a vast army of the unemployed, a rising lumpen class and the Marathi lower middle layer from Mumbai and Thane. Both saffron parties are mainly urban based, through with a hold among different classes. The Sena would go on the rampage after Balasaheb Thackeray’s rallies, looting shops and burning buses. The white collar BJP ‘gentlemen’ would then express regret about the goondaism of the Sena. Yet their alliance continued. The Sangh Parivar leaders saw the Sena as their ‘muscle power’, while they claimed to be the ‘brain power’! Balasaheb was aware that the BJP saw itself as superior, and held a very dim, even disparaging, view of the Sena for its ‘lack of culture, grace and political maturity.’

Be that as it may, neither the BJP nor the Shiv Sena historically had a significant socio-political presence in rural-agricultural Maharashtra. The dominant Maratha community is essentially agricultural with a vast rural presence. Influenced by Mahatma Gandhi, many Maratha families had joined the freedom struggle. For Yashwantrao Chavan, from a poor Maratha peasant family in Karad, western Maharashtra, Pandit Nehru was the iconic leader. Thousands of such families participated in satyagrahas or peace marches during the struggle for independence led by the Congress. That bond survives even today, though the younger generation has begun to distance itself from that legacy.

The BJP-Sena enjoys no such connect with the agricultural/rural communities. Besides, there is also a cultural issue. The social conversation in the rural areas is still about weather, crops, droughts and floods, indebtedness, animals, water shortage, labour costs, soil condition, remunerative prices for the crop, local markets and so on. The Marathas, and even the OBCs or Dalits, primarily contract matrimonial relationships within the caste framework. The urban professional, educational, social discourse in the state is, however, worlds apart, though it too has remained constrained within a caste-community context. These differences in life patterns considerably alienate the BJP-Sena from rural Maharashtra and, therefore, the Marathas or OBCs.

 

This social structure and lifestyle began to change in the mid-nineties, particularly following V.P. Singh’s decision in August 1990 to implement the Mandal Commission recommendations. The OBCs, though divided in over 200 sub-castes, felt that they were finally being ‘recognized’ by the system. The Congress, however, found it difficult to adjust to this sudden game changer. The consequent decline of the Congress resulted in the Maratha community being pushed into exploring fresh political options.

Ever since the creation of Maharashtra, the Marathas had enjoyed the best of equations with power. With the help and support of the state machinery, the middle rung Maratha farmer had over time become neo-rich, and with access to a chain of cooperative sugar factories, cooperative banks, schools and colleges effectively controlled the zilla parishad and gram panchayats. A new ‘ruling class’ had emerged in rural Maharashtra, one which was mainly drawn from the Maratha community (or caste, if you will). Within the first three decades (1960-1990), this strata had consolidated its power, both on the institutions it had created as well as in the Mantralaya. Aware that they could not afford to distance themselves from power, the Marathas understood that more than parties, it was access to the power structure which mattered. And so they began to look for greener pastures in the V.P. Singh-led Janata Dal or even the BJP and Shiv Sena. Following Rajiv Gandhi’s defeat in 1989, the feeling among the Marathas was that the Congress had lost the script.

 

It is neither an accident nor coincidence that the beginnings of the new Maratha movement can be traced to 1989. But this new Maratha conscious-ness remained dormant, in part because the Congress still retained power. With Sharad Pawar, the community’s pre-eminent leader serving as Union minister from 1991 to 1993, and later as chief minister in Maharashtra from 1993 to 1995, the power network had by and large remained intact. But with the Sena-BJP government assuming power in 1995 and the epicentre of power shifting from rural Maharashtra to Mumbai, a substantial section of the community quietly began shifting its loyalty to the saffron alliance. Indeed, many of the Maratha followers of Sharad Pawar even joined the Sena-led government as independents. The government, which needed outside support for survival, eagerly welcomed this new army of established Marathas from the countryside.

 

When Sharad Pawar rebelled against the Congress in 1999 and formed the Nationalist Congress Party (NCP), there was fresh turmoil in the Maratha community. Though the Marathas across the state today appear to have come under one banner, there are major geographical and sociological fissures which continue to mark the community. The Marathas from the western Maharashtra belt of Satara-Karad-Sangli-Kolhapur, with its large network of sugar factories and cooperative institutions, have historically enjoyed far better access to power than the Marathas from Marathwada and Vidarbha, in part because the cooperative movement had flourished in this region more than in Vidarbha, Marathwada or Konkan. Though perceived by the Marathas in other regions essentially as a chieftain of western Maharashtra, Pawar’s image and clout extends far beyond, possibly why his rebellion against the Congress garnered considerable social support. Nevertheless, once the community experienced a rupture, it further lost its connect with political power. The current agitation, therefore, can be seen primarily as an assertion of collective Maratha power and existence by a community aware that the political cracks in its ranks have begun to hurt its socio-economic interests. A clarion call went out to first unite, consolidate, then fight and come back to power. So, at the core, what we are witnessing is primarily a political issue with deep social, economic and cultural dimensions.

The eight-month long phase of quiet assertion may now be reaching its limits; it can either abruptly explode into violent caste conflict or dissipate into factional politics, both resulting in tectonic social and political upheaval. The trigger could possibly come from a court directive on the Maratha plea for inclusion in the reservation list. According to the affidavit submitted by the state government to the High Court in Mumbai, Marathas constitute 32 per cent of the population of the state, i.e. approximately four crore (40 million) people (equal to the entire population of California) out of 12 crore (121 million). Close to 87 per cent of the Marathas earn less than Rs 100,000 a year. The government claims that most Maratha families live below the poverty line; also that their share of substantial government jobs is very low. These factors, claims the government, justify the inclusion of the Maratha caste in the OBC list.

 

However, there is some ambiguity about the term ‘caste’. There is sizeable opposition to the demand for Maratha reservation, the argument being that it is a ‘community’, i.e. samaj and not ‘caste’, i.e. jati. The Kunbi Marathas, who are included in the OBC list, were seen as a caste under the definition and guidelines of the Mandal Commission. Socio- anthropologically speaking, almost all Kunbis are farmers; the non-Kunbi Marathas, though traditionally farmers also claim to be warriors (kshatriya’s). Moreover, were all the Marathas to be brought under the ambit of reservation, it would challenge the judicial directive that overall reservation cannot exceed 50 per cent.

In any case, the Maratha community is not homogenous. According to the government affidavit, a large section of Marathas are agricultural labourers, landless peasants, small landholding farmers (middle rung farmers) barely managing to survive on the land. The largest number of farmer suicides are also from this group. Then there is the well-off farmer who, though currently not experiencing economic distress, is aspirational and thus feels thwarted in his project of achieving higher standards of living. There is a third layer which became rich and privileged after the Green Revolution and the rise of the cooperative movement. And finally, we have the top layer of either the aristocratic or the neo-rich Maratha, which has enjoyed political power, privilege and prestige. Support for the current movement comes from the top two layers because they feel that it would provide them a social base by exploiting the larger caste/community identity.

 

Taking a cue from M.N. Srinivas, one might argue that just when the community was getting ‘westernized and sanskritized’, the globalization process hit it badly. In today’s economic arrangements, which have enabled some Marathas to rise, many even among the elite feel neglected, not because of lack of talent but opportunity. And these opportunities are unlikely to increase with a slowdown in growth. So the only other route to upward mobility is through acquisition and consolidation of power. However, power is concentrated among the old feudal, the neo-rich strata, or those who have managed to access power. Most Marathas once believed that Sharad Pawar represented their aspirations and hopes. In a state of isolation they now believe that militant identitarianism might perhaps help.

The other OBC castes fear that should Marathas secure reservation through political pressure, given their numerical size, they would likely monopolize most of the reserved quota of jobs. The argument goes thus: just as the Dalit reservation quota has been cornered by the Mahars, the Marathas too will virtually hijack the OBC quota. The courts so far have refused to grant the ‘so called’ OBC status to the Marathas. Moreover, the state government led by the BJP-Shiv Sena alliance, has a brahmin chief minister, specially chosen by Prime Minister Narendra Modi, even though demographically a brahmin chief minister does not make electoral sense. No wonder the BJP, though opposed to the very idea of reservations, has had to bend over backwards to accommodate the Marathas, fearful that if the government does not push the Maratha case, the old brahmin versus Maratha wounds could reappear.

 

Brahmins constitute less than four per cent of the population in Maharashtra; the Marathas, with over 32 per cent, are the dominant caste. However, one must understand the demographic and socio-political positioning of other castes to better comprehend the Maratha angst, anger and aggression. Despite such large numbers, and effective control of the state government and most rural institutions, why does the community feel neglected and deprived, and thus seek reservation? Equally, we need to locate the Marathas within a broader social canvass. Why, for instance, are Marathas not attracted to neo-Hindutva politics or swayed by Narendra Modi’s appeal? The ‘so-called’ Maratha strongman, Sharad Pawar, did try to get close to Modi personally and align his primarily Maratha outfit, Nationalist Congress Party, politically to the BJP, but that neither benefited him personally nor the Marathas politically.

Amongst the state’s OBCs, there is no strikingly dominant caste like the Yadavs in Uttar Pradesh or Bihar barring, to a small extent, the Mali community. Most of the OBC castes, over 200 of them, constitute between one and three per cent of the population. Though the Kunbis have been included in the Mandal list, it does not include other Marathas. So there is a clear division within the community. Overall, the Maratha mobilization faces some hidden and some upfront enemies.

The brahmins were seen as their ‘original enemy’ when the Maratha first challenged the leadership of the freedom movement. The virulent language used by the Maratha leaders in the 1920s and ’30s – notably Dinkarrao Jawalkar, the ideologue and demagogue of the anti-brahmin movement – can easily be compared to the language of Dravida Kazhagam (DK) movement in Tamil Nadu. Yet, such was the political compulsion that even Prabodhankar Thackeray (father of Balasaheb Thackeray) became a part of the leadership of the anti-brahmin/ pro-Maharastra movement later.

 

The historical reason for this hostility as cited by some scholars, can be traced back to the days of the Peshwa regime when the brahmins ruled, paying only ritual obeisance to the Maratha rulers – the Bhonsles, descendants of Shivaji Maharaj. After the Peshwa or rather Maratha rule was abolished by the British, the brahmins began the fight against colonial rule. And although hundreds of Marathas, mainly peasants, took up arms against the British East India Company, the leadership remained with the brahmins.

But that was supposed to be an effort to restore the lost Peshwai legacy. Even today, many of the globalized NRI Marathi brahmins in Silicon Valley or New Jersey display a strange nostalgia for Peshwa rule! On the other hand, many Maratha intellectuals argue that not only did the brahmins usurp the leadership of the independence movement, even after independence, the bureaucracy, academia and financial institutions were controlled by brahmins, despite their tiny numbers in Maharashtrian society. Hardly surprising that the brahmin came to be seen as the obvious and identifiable enemy!

Today, however, it is difficult to cite the brahmin as the enemy or an impediment to upward mobility. For most of the years since 1960, the chief minister and an overwhelming number of ministers have been Marathas. Only nominally would there be a brahmin in the cabinet (except during 1995-1999 and now, in the BJP-Sena rule). Indeed Sharad Pawar, Vasantdada Patil, S.B. Chavan, Vilasrao Deshmukh and others have all been chief ministers more than once. Almost all cooperative institutions, from banks to sugar factories and private colleges are controlled by the Marathas. Thus it is no longer possible to target the brahmin as an enemy, except rhetorically. Rather, it appears that their animosity is really directed at Dalits.

 

he Dalits too, like other groupings, are not homogenous; the hierarchy among them is so sharp that barring the Mahars (Dr Babasaheb Ambedkar’s community), the voice of other Dalits is rarely heeded. Indeed, the broad Dalit identity has been hijacked by the Mahar community to such an extent that many lower rung Dalits do not even regard themselves as followers of Dr Ambedkar. Those Mahars who converted to Buddhism, continue to operate socially and politically as ‘former untouchable’ and hence evoke considerable hostility from other non-Mahar Dalits. Therefore, Ambedkar’s dream of mobilizing all Dalit castes, oppressed in a Manusmriti-driven hierarchy, did not materialize. Dalit leaders like Ramdas Athavle, Prakash Ambedkar, late Namdeo Dhasal, Raja Dahale and others, though all Mahar, remain hostile to each other and cannot even unite their own Mahar community.

In additional to reservations, the other major demand that has cropped up, following the brutal gang rape and murder of a young Maratha girl by some Dalit youths, is for a review if not removal of the SC & ST Atrocities Act which protects Dalits from insult, abuse and violence from upper and forward castes. Expectedly, there is a growing apprehension among the Dalit community that the Maratha mobilization is basically directed against them and that the marches are designed to terrorize them into submission. Recently, as a response, there have been huge marches and demonstrations by the Dalits and OBCs, a signal to the Marathas that they will not take this aggression lying down.

 

Then there are about 11 per cent Muslims, who too have become aware of the politics of numbers. So, we are now also seeing Muslim marches and mobilization, mainly in Marathwada. Like the others, the Muslims in Maharashtra too are not a homogenous community and divided geographically, culturally and even linguistically. Those who were part of former Hyderabad state (now the region of Marathwada) are quite different from the Muslims in the Konkan region. The Marathwada Muslims speak Urdu and have supported the MIM. The Konkan Muslims on the other hand speak Marathi and are generally imbued in the Mumbai and Maharashtra culture. In Marathwada, there is no Muslim fishermen community as in Konkan. The Mumbai Shias, primarily in trade, are well off; the Sunnis in comparison remain relatively deprived and depraved. So far, fortunately, the Marathas have not targeted the Muslims. A section of the RSS leadership did try to infiltrate the Maratha mobilization and hijack the movement, but did not succeed because the Marathas are suspicious of the brahmins, given their allegiance to the RSS, and the chief minister is a RSS member.

 

It is important to remember that Maharashtra – socially, culturally and even geographically – was never a unified entity, and that very distinct regions were brought together on the basis of a common linguistic identity. Even now the divisions between different regions – Marathwada, Konkan, Vidarbha and western Maharashtra – remain deep, a tendency equally reflected in the tensions between the Maratha leaders from different regions. For a variety of reasons, western Maharashtra has dominated both economically and politically, and the Marathas from other regions resent this hegemony.

And yet, on the question of Maratha identity, they have agreed to come under one banner. Indeed, despite the dominance of western Maharashtra, the organizations pushing the Maratha agenda are mainly from the Marathwada region. Possibly, without the effective participation of Marathas from this region, the movement will be ineffective. The same is true of Vidarbha. Most suicides of Maratha farmers have been from Vidarbha, followed by Marathwada, with very few cases from the western region. Vidarbha, originally part of the Central Provinces and Berar, merged with Maharashtra, but culturally remains closer to Madhya Pradesh, with Marathi here more influenced by Hindi. Also, there was no cooperative movement and, in fact, a demand for separate Vidarbha even before the formation of Maharashtra. Nevertheless, the Marathas from this region have joined the movement.

It appears that it is caste, more than language, which is dividing a state once known for its modernity, progressivism and secular liberalism. These values came from the freedom movement and got entrenched because of the cosmopolitanism of Mumbai’s metropolitan society and its industry, trade, stock market, Bollywood and cricket. Mumbai was and is truly a caste-free, liberal and modern city. Though Marathas in Mumbai were not particularly enamoured with the movement, they too have raised the flag and are preparing to march. But Mumbai is also home to Muslims, Dalits, OBCs, brahmins (occupying and dominating media, academics, bureaucracy, professions). As a result, caste distinctions and identities have begun to affect the premier commercial city. We see a state that was integrated by Marathi, possibly now disintegrating along caste lines.

 

The future appears bleak, not only for Marathas but for the state of Maharashtra. The community is getting uprooted from agriculture and not getting absorbed elsewhere. Those who are in the age group of 8 or 10 today, will be part of the voting population ten years from now. Most of them will be out of agriculture as farming is no longer a viable occupation. Driven by fear, anxiety and identitarian angst, they are coming together without any specific programme, vision or leader, without even a defined ‘enemy’. It is a reflection of the discontents of globalization, somewhat like Brexit or Donald Trump’s victory in the US. John Steinbeck would have described the Maratha frustration and anger, and mirage of hope, as the grapes of wrath!