A battle for existence… yours or mine?

The alarm rang at quarter to seven in the morning… Ramya stepped out half-asleep, rubbing his eyes… rinsed his mouth… put toothpaste on his toothbrush… and began pacing around the society compound while brushing his teeth… The brush was moving. The mind was shut down. Suddenly, his attention went to the society gate… He thought someone had pasted a poster of a new movie and walked closer… And then he saw it—on a black poster, written in bold letters: “Marathi man, wake up… This is the final battle for your existence.” Ramya stopped brushing. “What?” He rubbed his eyes again. Existence? Mine? Just yesterday, he had received an email from office— “Please be available on Sunday.” He muttered—my Sunday existence was already threatened by that email… What other battle am I supposed to fight now? And who is shouting from this banner? The ‘Existence Confusion’ Ramesh looked around. Water was flowing from the tap at its usual low pressure. The potholes on the road had become even “deeper” and more “serious” after yesterday’s traffic. BEST buses were running late, as always. Nothing in Mumbai felt “final.” There was absolutely no sign that these problems would end anytime soon… So whose final battle was this, really? Ramya was sharp-minded… In moments like these, his thoughts ran wild… And when his mind raced, his eyes narrowed instinctively… Before those narrowed eyes, a scene began to unfold… Two palaces… And from them emerged two shadows… That line was never meant for Ramya. It was a desperate cry from those two shadows. The ‘Dream Merger’ and the Family Syndicate On one side, the “elder” pushed out of power. On the other, the “younger” lost in electoral calculations. When these two signal a reunion, should it be called “public interest” or a frantic attempt to save a family business? In the corporate world, when two loss-making companies come together, it is called a merger. That is exactly what is happening here. Old disputes, old insults, old accusations— everything is dumped into the “recycle bin,” and a new software is installed, named “Marathi Identity 2.0.” On one hand, the BJP-led Mahayuti is working to turn Mumbai into Mumbai 2.0 and Mumbai 3.0—faster and more dynamic. On the other hand… there is a desperate attempt to sell old goods in new packaging under the label of Marathi Identity 2.0. At that moment, Ramya understood his own existence. The Marathi Man = an ‘Emotional Power Bank’ In a corporate merger, it is not employees that matter— it is brand value. The same applies here. The Marathi man is not a voter here. Not a stakeholder. He is an emotional power bank. The real message behind the banner became crystal clear to Ramya. Here, the Marathi man is not a voter, but an emotional power bank. Whenever the Thackerays’ power battery runs low, they draw an “identity current” from this bank. His name appears on banners, he is mentioned in speeches, but in the municipal budget— he is nowhere to be found. The Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation is the richest civic body in Asia. For decades, its treasury was opened with the key of a single family. Now that the fear of losing that key has set in, brothers suddenly remember brotherhood. This is not development. This is a convenient alliance to preserve a feudal estate. Banners in his name, speeches in his name, and silence— as always—on his real problems. Ramya wondered—what if the banner were changed slightly? What if it read— “Raj and Uddhav, wake up… This is the final battle for your existence.” That would have sounded honest. Because Ramya fights every day— in crowded local trains, against work deadlines, and with rising bills at the end of every month. At those times, no one calls out to him in the name of “existence.” His existence is remembered only when it is time to vote. BMC is not a family business #notafamilybusiness