Power Beyond Politics, How Ajit Pawar’s Bipartisan Legacy Exposes the True Engine of Governance
The sudden and tragic passing of Maharashtra’s Deputy Chief Minister, Ajit Pawar, has elicited a torrent of public mourning and political analysis. While initial responses focused on the administrative void and coalition instability, a profound and revealing tribute from Union Minister Nitin Gadkari, titled “Power or no power, Dada was & remained a ‘friend’,” illuminates a far deeper and more significant current affair. This affair is not merely about the loss of a leader, but about the unmasking of a hidden, parallel system of governance—one powered by personal trust, bipartisan respect, and a shared commitment to public welfare that operates silently alongside, and often in spite of, the noisy theatre of partisan politics. Gadkari’s personal testament forces a national conversation on the erosion of these values and what their absence portends for India’s federal development and political health.
The Unwritten Constitution: Friendship as a Governance Protocol
Gadkari’s opening declaration is a radical statement in today’s hyper-polarized climate: “My friendship with Ajit Dada was beyond political differences.” In an era where political opponents are routinely framed as “anti-national” or personally vilified, this assertion recalls a fading norm of democratic decorum. He describes a relationship that thrived within the adversarial arena of the State Legislature, where they “criticised each other politically,” yet maintained a bond untouched by that combat. This delineates a critical, often forgotten, democratic ideal: that political opposition is a contest of ideas and policies, not a total war against individuals.
The operational mechanics of this friendship, however, are where Gadkari reveals its true societal value. He establishes a reciprocal, unwritten code: “It never happened that I insisted on a matter of public interest and Ajit Dada did not accept it; nor did it ever happen that Dada placed a subject of public welfare before me and I did not try to resolve it positively.” This clause is monumental. It posits “public interest” as a sovereign, non-partisan territory where their friendship had jurisdiction. Their bond was not a conduit for trading political favors or securing partisan advantage; it was a dedicated hotline for solving problems that benefited the citizenry. This transformed their personal equation into a potent tool for statecraft—a clandestine, high-efficiency channel that bypassed bureaucratic inertia and inter-governmental friction. In a federal structure often plagued by Centre-State tensions, such relationships are the grease that keeps the engine of national progress running.
The Plain-Speaker in a World of Sweet Talk: A Crisis of Political Language
Gadkari’s admiration for Ajit Pawar’s bluntness is not just personal preference; it is a pointed critique of contemporary political communication. He observes that leaders often feel compelled to “constantly speak sweetly to manage people and workers,” living in fear of the consequences of plain speech. This “sweet talk” is the language of evasion, of vague promises (“we’ll see”), and of managing perceptions over delivering outcomes. Ajit Pawar, as “an exception to this rule,” represented a different ethos. His clarity—a direct “yes” or “no”—was, as Gadkari argues, the foundation of genuine trust.
This trust was operational, not abstract. A “no” from Pawar was definitive, allowing all parties to move on without wasted effort. A “yes,” crucially, was a personal contract. Gadkari emphasizes, “if he said ‘yes’ to a task, he would take the responsibility to follow up and see it through to the end.” In a system where announcements often eclipse execution, this quality was priceless. It created a “sense of trust… within the government and administration,” making him a reliable node in an often-unreliable network. Gadkari, as the Union Minister for Road Transport and Highways, provides a powerful case study. He recounts how during NHAI projects in Maharashtra, Pawar would “personally threw his full strength behind these projects” to resolve land acquisition or local issues. Here, the bipartisan friendship directly accelerated national infrastructure goals. The Delhi-Mumbai Expressway or the Nagpur ring road did not just face bureaucratic processes; they benefited from a direct line between two ministers who trusted each other’s word. This is the tangible cost of the loss: not just a personality, but a critical piece of connective tissue in India’s development architecture.
The Institutional Heir and the Void in a Political Ecosystem
Gadkari astutely locates Ajit Pawar within a specific socio-political lineage: “the developed cooperative sector of Western Maharashtra.” This is not merely a geographical note but an identification of a powerhouse political economy. The sugar, dairy, and banking cooperatives of this region created a distinct breed of leader—pragmatic, deeply embedded in rural and semi-urban economic life, and masters of a politics built on tangible delivery. Pawar was the modern apex of this system, the inheritor who “carried forward the legacy of senior leader Sharad Pawar well” into an era of complex coalition politics and mega-infrastructure.
His four-decade career, spanning irrigation, finance, energy, and planning, made him the institutional memory and the chief operating officer of this model. His “obsession with the development of Maharashtra” was executed through this cooperative-network lens. His death, therefore, creates a systemic void. It is not just a vacant cabinet chair, but a crisis of succession at the helm of one of India’s most influential regional political-economic structures. The question of who can now command the loyalty of this network, negotiate its internal factions, and wield its electoral and economic weight with the same effectiveness is unanswered. This uncertainty threatens not just a party faction, but the stability and development focus of Maharashtra’s most productive region, with potential ripple effects on agricultural policy, rural credit, and regional political alignment.
Constancy in the Storm: An Antidote to Political Transience
The most philosophically resonant part of Gadkari’s tribute is his reflection on the nature of political relationships amidst flux. He draws a stark line between the ephemeral and the eternal in public life. “In politics, sometimes things work out, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes the party is with you, sometimes it isn’t. We didn’t base our friendship on those factors.” This is a powerful indictment of the transactional relationships that dominate political landscapes, where loyalty is contingent on power and access.
Hence, the definitive headline: “Power or no power, Dada was & remained a ‘friend’.” Their bond was immune to electoral cycles, coalition configurations, and the rise and fall of personal political fortune. Whether in government or opposition, their equation was a constant. In a profession where relevance is dictated by the immediacy of power, maintaining a consistent, equal friendship is a rare testament to character. It speaks of a connection built on the bedrock of mutual respect for each other’s integrity and commitment, not on the shifting sands of utility. Gadkari’s loss is thus uniquely personal—the disappearance of a fixed point of trust and camaraderie in the turbulent universe of politics.
Synthesis: The Cumulation of Loss and a National Lesson
When read alongside Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis’s earlier tribute, Gadkari’s words complete a three-dimensional portrait of Ajit Pawar’s significance. Fadnavis provided the internal view—the cabinet room dynamics, the joint stewardship of the state. Gadkari provides the cross-cutting view—the bipartisan bridge, the federal synergy, the friendship that oiled the wheels of inter-governmental cooperation.
Their convergent testimonies on Pawar’s bluntness, reliability, and work ethic cement these as his core legacy. That two such significant figures from the same national party, but with different historical relationships to Pawar (Fadnavis as a governing ally, Gadkari as a long-term cross-party friend), mourn him with equal depth underscores a crucial point: Ajit Pawar’s stature was that of a foundational leader for Maharashtra. His influence was structural. He was a keystone in the arch of the state’s governance, and his removal threatens the integrity of the entire structure.
Conclusion: A Model Endangered and a Call for Reflection
The current affair, as framed by Nitin Gadkari, extends beyond the obituary of a politician. It serves as a mirror held up to India’s political culture. The values Gadkari eulogizes—friendship beyond party, plain speaking over sweet talk, unwavering personal commitment, and the elevation of public interest above political gain—appear increasingly endangered.
Ajit Pawar represented a model where these values were not just professed but practiced to productive effect. His sudden departure is, as Gadkari states, a “personal loss.” But for the nation, it is the loss of a working exemplar. It raises urgent questions: In the chase for electoral dominance and media narrative, have we devalued the very traits that make governance effective—trust, clarity, and cross-party respect? Can a political system thrive when “sweet talk” eclipses plain speech, and when every relationship is contingent on immediate power?
The challenge for India’s political class is not merely to mourn Ajit Pawar, but to interrogate whether the ethos he and Gadkari exemplified can be revived and institutionalized. If not, governance may become ever more a prisoner of partisanship, and the nation may lose the hidden, personal bridges upon which its tangible progress so often silently depends. The true tribute would be to ensure that “power or no power,” the spirit of such committed, public-minded camaraderie is not the next casualty in our political life.
Q&A on Nitin Gadkari’s Tribute and its Implications
Q1: According to Gadkari, what was the foundational “protocol” of his friendship with Ajit Pawar, and how did it translate into governance?
A1: The foundational protocol was mutual, unquestioning support on matters of “public interest” and “public welfare.” Gadkari states it was a reciprocal guarantee: if one brought a genuine public welfare issue to the other, it would be accepted and acted upon positively. This translated into governance by creating a direct, high-trust channel between a Union Minister and a state Deputy CM. It bypassed normal bureaucratic and political hurdles, allowing for swift problem-solving, particularly in accelerating critical national infrastructure projects in Maharashtra, where Pawar would personally intervene to resolve state-level impediments.
Q2: Gadkari contrasts Ajit Pawar’s “plain-speaking” with the common tendency of leaders to “speak sweetly.” What is the broader implication of this critique for political culture?
A2: Gadkari’s critique implies that the culture of “sweet talk” is one of management, evasion, and short-term perception control, which erodes long-term trust and accountability. Pawar’s plain-speaking—clear “yes” or “no” answers—represented a commitment to clarity, decisiveness, and follow-through. The broader implication is that a political ecosystem that rewards ambiguity and rhetorical sugar over truth and directness ultimately hampers effective governance, as it becomes difficult to discern real commitments from empty promises, weakening the entire chain of administrative trust.
Q3: How does Gadkari’s anecdote about NHAI projects demonstrate the federal and developmental impact of such bipartisan friendships?
A3: The NHAI anecdote demonstrates that their friendship acted as a crucial shock absorber and accelerator in India’s federal system. When national highway projects faced typical state-level challenges like land acquisition, instead of getting bogged down in inter-governmental correspondence or political blame games, Gadkari could rely on Pawar to personally intervene and resolve the issue. This directly turned a potential point of Centre-State friction into a node of cooperation, speeding up nationally significant infrastructure, boosting the economy, and delivering public goods faster. It highlights how personal trust can overcome systemic inertia.
Q4: Why does Gadkari’s description of their friendship being constant “whether in power or not” carry significant weight in the context of Indian politics?
A4: In Indian politics, where access, influence, and loyalty are intensely linked to being in power, a relationship that remains unchanged across electoral cycles is exceptionally rare. It signifies a bond built on immutable personal respect and shared values, rather than transactional utility. Gadkari emphasizes this to highlight the depth and authenticity of their connection, implicitly contrasting it with the vast majority of political relationships that are contingent on immediate power dynamics. It presents their friendship as an ideal of constancy in a profession defined by transience.
Q5: Gadkari places Ajit Pawar within the legacy of Western Maharashtra’s cooperative sector. What does this say about the nature of the void left by his death?
A5: Positioning Pawar in this lineage indicates that the void is not merely administrative or political, but systemic. He was the contemporary operational leader of a vast, powerful, and economically crucial network of cooperative institutions. His death creates a crisis of leadership for this entire political-economic ecosystem. The void concerns who will now steward its interests, wield its collective influence, and translate its power into developmental outcomes for the region. This makes the succession far more complex than a cabinet reshuffle; it is about the stability and future direction of a major pillar of Maharashtra’s polity and economy.
