By Swapan Dasgupta
Casual visitors to Bhubaneswar, the administrative
centre of Odisha, may be struck by its resemblance to the company towns that
sprung up in the 1950s and 1960s when space was not an unaffordable luxury. Its
remarkably well-maintained grand public buildings—the Secretariat, the High
Court, the Assembly, et al—reflect the unbridled optimism and the aesthetics of
the 1950s. Its rows of whitewashed official accommodation for the upper
echelons of the bureaucracy, ministers and MLAs are generously spacious but don’t
exude the imperial arrogance of the bungalows of the British Raj. And, to add
to the enlightened ‘bush shirt’ ambiance of a disappearing age, there are many
tastefully landscaped public parks, at least two outstanding museums (including
the Natural History Museum which, last week, unveiled the 47 feet-long skeleton
of a Baleen whale that had beached in Gopalpur) and the Rabindra Mandap which
hosted performances by Shubha Mudgal and Carnatic vocalist T.M. Krishna last
week.
In the past 15 years, a non-official Bhubaneswar has
also emerged, driven by the brash energy of IT companies and private
educational institutions. With the mining boom having produced a visible spurt
in consumer spending, Bhubaneswar now conveys the image of a purposeful city,
one that has easily overtaken neighbouring Cuttack in the surge to modernity. Compared
to India’s booming metros, Odisha’s Capital may be a relatively small town but
it has long discarded the image of being a sleepy town.
There is a quiet, understated regional pride that
permeates today’s Odisha but which is not often appreciated in the citadels of
metropolitan derision. Thanks to a drastic overhaul of the state’s finances which
has seen chronically deficit Budgets being turned into surplus, Odisha is no
longer dependant on the Centre’s charity for everything. This has meant that
the Chief Minister doesn’t have to constantly rush to the National Capital with
begging bowl in hand. Elaborate welfare schemes, such as the Rs 2 rice scheme for
the poor, the special assistance for the Kalahandi-Bolangir-Koraput region and
programme for rural housing, can be financed from the state’s own exchequer, a
detail that adds to the state’s self-esteem.
The extent to which a well-functioning and stable
government can both empower and boost the self-confidence of a people is often
not fully grasped by the metropolitan mindset. The perception of Odisha as a
backwater that can either be taken for granted or used as a toy, regrettably,
still exists. The only difference is that Odisha now refuses to be taken for
granted.
A recent controversy, relatively small in nature,
highlighted the change. This week, a minor storm erupted over the decision of
the Governor, in his capacity as the Chancellor of the Ravenshaw University in
Cuttack, to award an honorary doctorate to a notable from Delhi whose
connections to Odisha were both tenuous and, it later emerged, somewhat
contentious. Following protests, the honour was withdrawn. But, the Governor,
it emerged, had made a habit of doling out honorary doctorates from local
universities where he is the Chancellor to friends in the legal profession in
Delhi. So blatant was the cronyism that special convocations of Utkal
University and Sambhalpur University were held at Odisha Bhavan in New Delhi
because some of those who had been honoured didn’t bother with the convocations
in Odisha.
That the discretionary powers of Delhi’s foremost
representative in Bhubaneswar is now called upon to account for his flights of
whimsy may appear surprising to those who still cling on to patronising stereotypes
of ‘simple’ Odiyas who can be taken for a ride. The surprise is unwarranted.
Since 1999, the state has elected a regional party to power, each time with a
thumping majority. Unlike the 1980s and 1990s, when Biju Patnaik and J.B.
Patnaik alternated as Chief Minister and kept Odisha very much in the purview
of national politics, the story has undergone a major modification.
Naveen Patnaik, the political innocent who was
thrust into public life in 1997 after Biju babu’s death, has no doubt built on
his father’s formidable legacy. But whereas the larger than life Biju babu
always had one eye firmly focussed on national politics, his political heir has
progressively eased himself out of a battlefield where he was only a bit
player. When he was elected to the Lok Sabha from Aska in a by-election in
1997, Naveen had fought on a Janata Dal ticket. By 1998, he dispensed with the
national party which was in a shambles and established the Biju Janata Dal, a
regional party. Although he joined the National Democratic Alliance and had an
alliance with the Bharatiya Janata Party in Odisha, he extricated himself from
that entanglement in 2009 and won a spectacular third-term victory. Unlike Gujarat
and Karnataka where the BJP had successfully marginalised the remnants of the
old Janata Dal, Naveen obliterated the BJP in Odisha.
At one level, Naveen has demonstrated a ruthless
streak. At every step along his political journey, he has brushed away
potential challengers inside the party and banished them into the wilderness.
Odisha is littered with the political corpses of grandees who underestimated
the political dexterity of the Chief Minister. The latest was Piyari Mohan
Mohapatra, the proverbial juju man of Odisha politics. His coup attempt in May
was snuffed out by public outrage. Naveen, away in England when the
conspirators struck, was victorious in absentia.
However, my contention is that while Naveen’s guile and
his reputation for personal integrity may have played its part in ensuring his
dominance over the BJD, his political longevity owes much to the wider shifts
in Odisha’s public consciousness. The Chief Minister has perfected the art of
the regional party. Although personally a cosmopolitan who is naturally at ease
in the most rarefied of circles on both sides of the Atlantic, not to speak of
Lutyens’ Delhi, his political priorities are determined solely by his state. If
there is a national intervention, it is because there is an Odisha dimension to
it.
Delhi was always unfamiliar territory to a state
where media consumers account for only 65 per cent or so of the population. By
narrowing the focus of concerns to what happens in Bhubaneswar and the districts,
Naveen may well be accused of enhancing the provincialisation of his state.
However, the truncation of political boundaries can also be viewed as evidence
of greater empowerment. What the average, concerned citizen of Odisha thinks of
the goings-on in Delhi’s North and South Block has no impact. But his
perceptions have a direct bearing on Bhubaneswar. By prioritising the local
over the national, Naveen has offset the sense of despondency and alienation
that would otherwise have crept into one of India’s most backward states. By
making democracy provincial, Naveen has, ironically, enriched it substantially.
In recent months there has been intense speculation
over how the BJD will conduct itself in the event of a hung Parliament in 2014.
It is hazardous to prophecy the options Naveen will exercise, apart from saying
that he will not support a Congress-led formation. But judging from the
regional mould in which he operates, my guess is that he will prefer to also
stay out of any NDA regime. He will be
content observing from the sidelines and bargaining fiercely for local benefits.
Those anxious for his party’s participation must make him an offer so
magnificently attractive that refusing it would mean letting Odisha down.
The only effective pressure point for Naveen will be
from below, from a people who, after 15 years, have the self-assurance to play
on the national stage as citizens who matter.
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