The reunion of Raj and Uddhav Thackeray has undoubtedly added spice, drama, and excitement to Mumbai’s civic elections. But symbolism and sentiment alone may not be enough to win the high-stakes battle for the Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation (BMC). In today’s Mumbai, relying primarily on “Marathi asmita” carries clear political limits.
When Balasaheb Thackeray founded the Shiv Sena in 1966, Mumbai was a Marathi-majority city, and the “sons of the soil” message resonated deeply. Balasaheb enjoyed the undisputed leadership of Marathi speakers and near total backing from the community. That political landscape no longer exists. Mumbai’s demographics have changed, the Marathi vote — while still influential — is now divided among different political formations, and Raj and Uddhav do not command the same automatic loyalty that the Sena patriarch once did.
Mumbai itself has also changed as a political city. It is no longer the stronghold that the Thackerays controlled between the late 1980s and 2012. Today’s voter is more practical than emotional, judging parties less on slogans and symbolism and more on everyday civic concerns like “gutter, water, and sadak”. Identity-driven politics, which once mobilised crowds, now struggles to answer daily governance failures.
This shift has created new political openings. The BJP gains significantly from its ally, the Eknath Shinde-led Shiv Sena. Shinde, a former Shiv Sainik, retains credibility among Marathi voters and can directly dent the Thackeray cousins’ traditional base. In many constituencies, contests between Shinde-backed candidates and those of Raj or Uddhav risk splitting the Marathi vote further, turning what was once the Thackerays’ core strength into a vulnerability.
Demographics underline this reality. Mumbai’s population stands at around 1.4 crore, with well over 55 per cent being non-Marathi-speaking residents. About 1.03 crore people are eligible voters. These numbers make one thing clear: relying primarily on the Marathi identity, especially when that vote is fragmented across multiple parties, is unlikely to be enough to capture Asia’s richest civic body.
Mumbai is not a one-identity city. It is home to large North Indian, Gujarati, Jain, Marwari, and Muslim communities. Many voters from these groups do not instinctively see the Thackeray cousins as their first choice. To them, the alliance often appears more like a family reunion than a clearly articulated, citywide plan for governance.
Alliance choices, therefore, matter. Because of the Maha Vikas Aghadi’s strong anti-BJP positioning, many Muslim voters have backed Uddhav in recent years. However, by joining hands with the Maharashtra Navnirman Sena, a party often perceived as hostile to non-Marathi communities, Uddhav risks unsettling sections of minority and migrant voters. While the tie-up may consolidate one segment, it could simultaneously push others away.
A similar challenge exists among North Indian, Gujarati, and other migrant communities, who tend to prioritise stability, business-friendly governance, and organisational strength. This is where the BJP has invested steadily, building local leadership and networks across communities. In contrast, the Thackeray reunion still struggles to project itself as a comprehensive solution for a diverse and complex city like Mumbai.
The BJP’s adaptation to Mumbai’s changing demographics is visible in electoral outcomes. Of the city’s 36 MLAs, 13 are non-Marathi, seven of whom belong to the BJP. In the 2017 BMC elections, 72 of the 227 corporators were non-Marathi, with half elected on BJP tickets. While retaining a Marathi pitch, the party has systematically expanded beyond it.
Crucially, even among Marathi voters, loyalty to the Thackeray brand is no longer a given. That era has passed. Today, the Marathi vote is divided between the Thackerays, the BJP’s development narrative, and parties driven by local leadership and personal equations. Not all Marathi speakers are necessarily Thackeray loyalists.
The alliance also presents a dilemma for Raj. Like Uddhav, he too has something to lose. For nearly 25 years, the undivided Shiv Sena ruled the BMC, yet core civic problems, such as potholes, flooding, and footpath encroachments, worsened rather than improved. As Raj speaks of fixing Mumbai, he cannot entirely disown this past without indirectly questioning his cousin and ally. This limits the MNS chief’s ability to project himself as a clean break from earlier failures.
These contradictions extend beyond leadership. For years, cadres of the two parties fought bitter political battles. Old rivalries do not disappear overnight. Some workers may cooperate, others may not, and voters are quick to sense confusion and lack of coordination.
The weakness is also visible on the campaign trail. The Thackeray cousins remain the primary crowd pullers, with the campaign heavily dependent on them alone. Winning Mumbai today, however, is less like a one-hero film and more like the Bollywood movie Lagaan, where success depended on teamwork, planning, and discipline, not just star power.
In contrast, the BJP and the Shinde Sena have multiple field leaders capable of handling both large rallies and small corner meetings, giving them greater reach and organisational depth. Whether one agrees with its politics or not, the BJP enters the contest with a clearer structure and stronger ground-level machinery.
In a city as diverse and complex as Mumbai, no single identity can win an election on its own. Ultimately, Mumbai has repeatedly shown that it does not vote merely for political surnames. It votes for whoever appears most capable of running the city. That is the real test before the Thackeray cousins and the real risk they face in today’s “Rajneeti”.
Sanjeev Shivadekar is political editor, mid-day. He tweets @SanjeevShivadek
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The views expressed in this column are the individual’s and don’t represent those of the paper.