X: @vivekbhavsar
The political rumour mills are abuzz again—will Uddhav Thackeray and Raj Thackeray bury the hatchet and reunite under the legacy of Balasaheb? While such a prospect may stir nostalgic emotions among Shiv Sainiks and Marathi voters, a closer look at Maharashtra’s political realities suggests that a reunion is not just improbable—it’s politically unviable and strategically self-defeating.
The rift between the Thackeray cousins is rooted in unresolved personal grievances and succession battles. Back in the early 2000s, as Balasaheb Thackeray’s health began to decline, internal discussions around party succession intensified. Many within the Shiv Sena saw Raj—charismatic, fiery, and politically aggressive—as the natural heir. But Balasaheb instead anointed his son Uddhav, who was seen as more reserved, methodical, and organisation-driven.
Raj’s exit in 2005 and the subsequent formation of the Maharashtra Navnirman Sena (MNS) in 2006 wasn’t just a political move—it was an emotional rupture. That wound has not healed. Any merger or alliance now would require either man to compromise his authority—something neither has shown willingness to do.
Even assuming a political truce, the question of structure remains: Will MNS merge into Uddhav’s Shiv Sena (UBT)? Or will it be a seat-sharing alliance?
Given the current electoral realities, it’s evident that Raj’s MNS—despite its past firepower—has lost much of its mass base. Uddhav, despite the Eknath Shinde-led split and the loss of the original party symbol, still leads a more robust cadre and is a key figure in the MVA alliance.
For all practical purposes, any political understanding would require Raj to merge into UBT and play second fiddle—something his ego, and his cadre’s pride, are unlikely to allow. The very reason Raj left Shiv Sena was his refusal to play second to Uddhav. Why would he now return under diminished political circumstances?
The ideological gulf is even wider today than it was in 2005. Uddhav Thackeray, post-2019, has undergone a visible transformation—from hardline Hindutvavadi to a centrist, constitution-respecting leader. His partnership with Congress and Sharad Pawar’s NCP under the Maha Vikas Aghadi has seen him embrace more inclusive, secular rhetoric. He has publicly criticised the BJP’s Hindutva politics and has opposed issues like the Waqf Board Bill from a governance—not communal—standpoint.
Raj Thackeray, on the other hand, has moved closer to hardline Hindutva, aligning his tone and timing with the BJP’s national agenda—from raising loudspeaker issues in mosques to invoking Hanuman Chalisa politics and visiting Ayodhya. A merger would require him to walk back on his ideological posturing—risking credibility among his already eroding support base.
Moreover, will Raj Thackeray accept an alliance where Congress and NCP are his political partners? These are parties he has fiercely opposed for years. To stand on the same stage would be politically humiliating and ideologically confusing for his supporters.
Another strategic risk Raj must calculate: Uddhav Thackeray is one of the most vocal critics of the Modi–Shah-led BJP, often accusing the party of using central agencies to target opposition leaders. Uddhav’s stance has already invited the wrath of the ED and CBI against his close aides and family members.
If Raj joins hands with Uddhav, he too becomes a political target, possibly opening himself up to the same kind of scrutiny. So far, Raj has cleverly kept a balancing act—remaining critical of the government’s functioning without attacking Modi or the BJP directly. Entering Uddhav’s camp would mean choosing sides definitively, and likely burning bridges with BJP—a high-risk move for someone who has avoided full confrontation with Delhi so far.
Politics isn’t just about leaders; it’s also about followers. And here lies another major hurdle—mistrust at the grassroots level.
MNS loyalists still see Uddhav as someone who compromised Balasaheb’s Hindutva legacy by allying with Congress. UBT Shiv Sainiks, on the other hand, view Raj’s flirtations with the BJP as opportunistic and self-serving. Reconciling these two camps would require more than leadership talks—it would need a ground-level ideological reset, which seems impossible in the current political climate.
The current speculation was reignited when Raj Thackeray, in an interview with filmmaker Mahesh Manjrekar, said: “If the disputes are over, what stops us from coming together?” This indirect olive branch prompted Uddhav Thackeray to respond, stating: “As far as I’m concerned, all disputes are over. But there are some conditions—one must not praise BJP leaders or be seen with them. One must work in the interest of the Marathi Manoos and the state.”
While the exchange may sound conciliatory on the surface, Uddhav’s conditions are politically loaded—essentially demanding that Raj sever all tacit ties with the BJP and publicly commit to MVA’s ideological framework. That is a tall ask for someone who has avoided burning bridges with the BJP and has styled himself as a flexible, issue-based leader.
In a political environment where optics often override substance, the emotional appeal of a united Thackeray front may excite some, but the realpolitik of Maharashtra leaves no space for such fantasies.
The clash of egos, ideological divergence, the MVA alliance structure, fear of central agency backlash, and mutual cadre hostility form an insurmountable wall between Uddhav and Raj.
Balasaheb Thackeray’s political legacy may belong to both, but his political heirs have long chosen different destinies—and neither seems willing to cross over.
