MUMBAI: There are two words any Mumbaikar learns to respond to instantly: Sena Bandh. Whether formally declared by Bal Thackeray, the Sena supremo, or taken out apparently spontaneously in response to something momentous in his life (the death of his wife, threats to arrest him, or as we have seen in the last few days, his declining heath), the implication is clear - trains will be stopped, cars stoned, buses burned, shop windows broken, so you had really best be safe at home.
Mumbaikars' feelings about this are complicated. There is apprehension, of course, since no one wants to be caught in the chaos, and possibly irritation at the time lost, plans disrupted and workdays wasted. Yet, along with that is a certain schoolkid's sense of satisfaction at an unexpected day off. Till recently at least, 'Sena Bandh' was the excuse no employer could contest, even in a hardworking city like Mumbai. And unlike festival holidays, which had their own pressures of rituals and visits, a Sena Bandh was a totally relaxed and peaceful day at home.
It is true that in the early years of the Sena, there was always apprehension at the scale of violence, which turned against different targets. During the agitation against south Indians, Udupi restaurants were attacked and burned, and there was also the horror of the anti-Muslim riots in 1993. Yet, as the Sena got increasingly established, the bandhs took on a ritualistic aspect that was high on strong rhetoric but reassuringly limited in actual violence and disruption.
The pattern would start early in the morning with party workers lying on tracks to stop trains, and this in a city so dependent on long-distance commutes was enough to send people home. Shiv Sena shakha workers would fan out in their neighbourhoods and warn shops, which would quickly down shutters. A token bus was usually burned, but in recent years the focus has been more on taxis that tend to be driven by north Indian migrants, who are acceptable targets for the Sena.
Thackeray makes no pretence
With the city shut down for the day, people would sleep late, have leisurely lunches - they would have stocked up on food the night before - and kids would play cricket on the conveniently empty streets. By late afternoon, with the standard office day getting over and the Sena's point proven, the bandh would relax, local shops would open, and some evening parties and weddings would get underway, so that even those whose events coincided with a bandh didn't suffer too much. This week's slowdown, coming on the heels of the Diwali holidays, was a particularly welcome extension of the break.
We have no idea if Thackeray has thought through his influence in this way, but it is quite likely he would be amused at the use to which the city puts his bandhs. He has always had the sharpest of senses for what really moves Mumbai and what appeals work with it. He might be notorious for his blunt and inflammatory talk, exhorting voters to stand up for themselves and attack their enemies (exactly what has changed over the years). But as Stanford-based anthropologist Thomas Blom Hansen notes in Wages of Violence, his study of the Sena, "He never asks his audience to change their ways or embark on a new endeavour..."
Hansen contrasts this with other Indian politicians, including those from BJP who "address their audiences as ma-baaps, meaning parents, patrons and well-wishers of the humble politician before them. They ask for votes, they promise to make a number of improvements, and they disavow power as a goal in itself". But Thackeray makes no such pretence. "He makes it a point never to be humble, and he ridicules hollow promises." Right from the start, he never hid the fact that the Sena's aim was to achieve and retain power in the city and the state, and to do so by any means possible.
Hence the violence and intimidation, where needed, and also the unlikely alliances he has struck over the years. No one could spew stronger rhetoric against the Congress today, yet in its early years the Sena enjoyed the patronage of the Congress, which, in its typical style, overlooked its potential as a possible future rival in favour of its use against its immediate rival of the time, the Communist parties. Thackeray is famously good friends with Sharad Pawar, yet has heaped abuses on him over the years. Consistency in allies has never been of much value to Thackeray, compared with the compulsions of maintaining the Sena's power.
None of which matters to the public because - and this is Thackeray's insight - they feel that nearly all politicians are the same, but others cover it up with deception and hypocrisy. This fits with practices like drinking and smoking that many politicians do in private, but pretend not to in public. Hansen notes how young people tell him they like the fact that Thackeray likes drinking beer (and Heineken - no pretence at supporting Indian brands). He drinks and smokes openly and it all counts towards his image as honest and unashamed, which resonates with many Mumbaikars, who dislike political pretensions and also the idiocies of liquor permits and the problems of consuming alcohol easily.
Hansen ascribes the Sena's success to perfecting a kind of "performative politics, which deals with everyday problems rapidly, visibly, and though rarely aimed at transforming institutions or practices, with some immediate effect". This is the story that the Sena likes to tell, of shakhas that serve as neighbourhood benefactors and guardians (Hansen's book suggests that the truth is a bit more complex, but the story is persuasive). Performance is also at the heart of the Sena's rallies and bandhs, which the city accepts, for all their inconveniences, perhaps in return for accepting the Sena's patronage, or perhaps because, as with bandh holidays, it finds its own benefit from them.
There are limits though to this acceptance, and it is notable that for all the Sena's strong image in the city and ability to shut it down, its actual electoral success is more limited. It has only held state-level power once and all the city's MPs and the bulk of its MLAs are currently with the Congress-NCP. As Hansen points out, the Sena's record at institutional change is poor - even with alcohol, for all Thackeray's honest pleasure in it, when his party was in power it did nothing substantive to change the state's restrictive liquor laws. The city may accept the Sena's diktat to stop working, but it doesn't follow it in less public, but possibly more effective ways.
Perhaps this is an equation Thackeray can accept. If, as Hansen suggests, politics is primarily performative for the Sena, then it is things like the mass outpouring of emotions that we've been seeing outside Matoshree, and the visits from Bollywood actors, performers of another kind, that count for the Sena and him. He built the Sena in the 1960s and '70s by making politics exciting and engaging for young men in the city, at a time the alternatives were the rigid cadres of the Communists or the dreary in-fighting of the Congress. And now he is showing how, even when old and infirm, he can still pull off a spectacle that can bring Mumbai to a standstill.
Bal Thackeray still brings Mumbai to a halt
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Bal Thackeray still brings Mumbai to a halt
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Bal Thackeray still brings Mumbai to a halt
