A DAY after his death at the age of 86, Bal Thackeray—Mumbai's political godfather—still had the power to silence one of the world’s most frenetic cities. On Sunday every shop was shuttered and market stall packed away on Colaba Causeway, the main strip in a chic district of south Mumbai. An artery usually heaving with aunties haggling over bangles, taxi drivers slamming their horns, and socialites ducking into hotels was bizarrely quiet. Meanwhile, further north, a swathe of the city was blocked off for a huge funeral procession and cremation.
Mr Thackeray’s death was announced on Saturday afternoon, after half a week of panicked rumours. A former political cartoonist and a fiery orator, he founded and controlled the Shiv Sena, the hardline right-wing party that leads the coalition running Mumbai’s city council. Mr Thackeray was known for his opposition to domestic and foreign migrants, which was directly at odds with the reality of India’s cosmopolitan business capital, and his tight grip on Mumbai, particularly during the 1980s and 1990s. Bollywood stars, politicians and tycoons were said to visit him and touch his feet, acknowledging their need for his approval.
Soon after Saturday's announcement some party members started enforcing a bandh—a ban on all economic transactions—as a mark of respect. “They were shouting ‘shut down, shut down, pull the shutters’,” said one Mumbaikar, recalling how Shiv Sena boys on motorcycles appeared on his street in a quiet suburb. On Sunday, the only shops open in most neighbourhoods were chemists and newspaper stalls, whose rows of broadsheets had Mr Thackeray’s face on every front page. The party’s central command had not called for the bandh, yet Mumbaikars fell in line due to a fear of local Shiv Sena teams.
The main funeral procession, however, saw no unrest. A large crowd watched a stream of VIPs pay their respects to Mr Thackeray’s body, wrapped in an Indian flag and sporting his trademark sunglasses, before it was set alight. In predominantly Muslim neighbourhoods near the funeral site, where one might have expected tension given the widespread perception of the Shiv Sena as a pro-Hindu party, children played cricket in the traffic-free streets.
Some working-class inhabitants of Maharashtra, the state dominated by Mumbai, praised the departed godfather. Since its inception in 1966, the Shiv Sena has relied on a strong network of branches called shakhas to win over poor locals by providing jobs and protection. But elite Mumbaikars had far less sympathy for a man whom a government report partly blamed for the city’s bloody communal riots in the early 1990s (Mr Thackeray was never convicted in connection with any unrest). “His appeal was among the workers…but for society at large he was a menace,” said Jehangir Patel, the editor of "Parsiana", a magazine for India’s wealthy Parsi community, which is thought to have arrived in Mumbai in the 1600s. Another Mumbaikar said that even well-to-do Maharashtrans felt no affinity with the party.
Sunday’s day of mourning was peaceful, albeit eerily so. But the coming days could see some more energetic Shiv Sena rallies, and Mumbaikars remain in cautious mood. Meanwhile, the party will have to start considering its future—its share of the 227 municipal seats dropped from 84 to 75 in this year’s local polls, and a breakaway party led by Mr Thackeray’s bellicose nephew is proving popular. The godfather, who never held elected office, but got the great and the good to touch his feet, will be a hard act to follow.
Courtesy : The Economist
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