
For someone reputed to be a persuasive orator, Chhagan Bhujbal certainly let the side down on Tuesday. ’Twas freedom of the press, he offered, clumsily, as he put in his papers as deputy chief minister of Maharashtra. His cover-up has been immediately and widely seen to be what it is. Not all the din and bluster of the attack on Zee TV’s Alpha Marathi channel by rampaging NCP “activists” has been able to drown out the sounds of silence that had settled down about the NCP leader ever since Telgi’s storm sucked him into its centre. In fact, when it came, Bhujbal’s resignation had an inevitable ring to it. Speculative whispers about his possible replacement in the Mantralaya had already been doing the rounds in Mumbai’s power circuit. Bhujbal had been left virtually alone to defend himself by colleagues and partymen, one by one. The hardboiled veteran of many a party had even checked himself into Mumbai’s Breach Candy Hospital for “uneasiness and anxiety” recently.
This is a moment to look back at a tempestuous career. Bhujbal rose from the ranks, travelled from the Shiv Sena to the Congress, and finally braved the clout of the powerful Maratha lobby to claw his way to the top of the NCP. The colourful politician, who invokes Jyotiba Phule and Babasaheb Ambedkar and has also produced Marathi movies. More significantly, this is a sobering moment in the still unfolding Telgi saga. Bhujbal’s is the biggest political scalp so far in the multi-crore fake stamp paper scam whose true enormity continues to taunt the imagination of all its chroniclers. Even as top policemen were netted, many pointed out that so many thousands of crores could not but have spilled over beyond the police echelons and that highly placed politicians had surely acted as Telgi’s protectors. Bhujbal’s resignation could, hopefully, signal the uncorking of a new set of exposes of these political godfathers.
Bhujbal’s exit from the Mantralaya will also further unsettle the ever rocky alliance that rules Maharashtra. Ever since the NCP and Congress joined hands to form a government, they have lurched from one flashpoint to another. With little ideology, principle, or common programme to bind them together, the coalition is vulnerable to ego-trouble; personal equations have always been able to overtake the issues. This unnatural alliance may find it difficult to carry on as usual after Bhujbal. But whatever the political outcomes, one thing is clear. Telgi’s ghosts are not yet done. And for a nation that is growingly cynical about political corruption, there’s good news in that.