Brotherly love.....

The revolutionary founder of the Dravidian movement, EV Ramasamy Naicker or Periyar, often said that children make a politician selfish. It’s not a coincidence that Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (DMK) patriarch, M Karunanidhi, a politician with three wives and children has turned the entire state into a family estate.

After the rout in the assembly elections, he expected red and black bordered dhoti clad partymen to come to his rescue and help him in this hour of distress. But all that came in the aftermath of 2G scam were land grab charges and simmering family feuds. His latest challenge is to stop his sons, M K Azhagiri and M K Stalin from going at each other’s throats.

In yet another survey to deem who among the two is more acceptable as the party’s political heir, M K Azhagiri has again been shown as the ‘also ran’. The survey conducted by a magazine Kumudham Reporter, gave M K Stalin 58% and an overwhelming thumbs-up. Azhagiri came a distant second at 12%. Coming as it did in the backdrop of the DMK general council meeting, it managed to put the succession war, which was lying dormant for some time, back on the front pages.

One of the reasons for the tiff is that, between Azhagiri and Stalin, their father prefers the latter. Speculation was rife that Stalin could be elevated to the post of the party’s working president. Organizational changes like restructuring of the party’s district units so that bigger districts have more than one unit, the proposal to fix three terms for district secretaries and office bearers were seen as Stalin’s brainchild.

These measures, seen as attempts by Stalin to further tighten his hold on the party, certainly didn’t amuse Azhagiri. Even, as he raised objections, the council went ahead and passed amendments on some party by-laws. A miffed Azhigiri left the general council meeting, at a time when even random words and actions from the state’s first family are fodder for rumour mills across the state.

The Stalin-Azhagiri turf war is one of folklore and has a rich past. When the brothers first clashed in 1980 over who would control Chennai, Azhagiri was dispatched by his father to Madurai to run the party mouth piece ‘Murasoli’. He had no say in editorial decisions and he gradually lost interest and directed his energies to other profitable ventures. He made friends with every big-time gangster with notorious names; Attack’ Pandi, ‘Pottu’ Suresh and ‘Karate’ Pandian to name a few.

Azhagiri now runs a TV channel, a cable service provider called Royal Video and a wedding hall. Add to that the muscle power and the moneybags to control the region’s land mafia. You have a perfect amalgam of a big brother and a feudal lord.

While Azhagiri rose to phenomenal heights completely outside the democratic space – he contested his first election in 2009, though he had iron grip over the party’s southern wing for two decades – Stalin’s rise is in stark contrast. He is a four-time MLA and even had two stints as the mayor of Chennai. He developed his image as a competent administrator. He expanded his kingdom by making strategic appearances with his father. He was quick to take credit for flyovers constructed and welfare measures implemented.

In the dark phase between 1977 to 1989, when DMK was kept out of power by MGR, the party needed a massive infusion of youth. Stalin mobilised the youth, Karunanidhi was pleased and his destiny was sealed. Ironically Stalin, even at the age of 59, is still the party’s youth wing president. Azhagiri sulked at being passed over for the party’s top post. He started to kick up a storm.

Arguably, one of the reasons for such ruptures is that these leaders have no future outside Tamil Nadu. Their foothold is restricted to the boundaries of the state. Such limited space for display of political ambitions leads to an intensification of the battle for supremacy within the party.

Karunanidhi tried his level best to avoid this situation by sending his elder son to occupy the chair of Union Minster of Chemicals and Fertilizers in 2009. But Azhagiri proved to be fish out of water. Known to speak only in chaste Tamil, he could neither converse with any of the officials in his ministry nor understand the proceedings in the parliament. He gradually thought of himself to be an eternal misfit in the larger political spectrum to which his father had transferred him.

The rout of the party in the 2011 assembly elections made sure that the succession war within the DMK was not allowed full expression. Stalin and Azhagiri were busy making trips to various central jails to meet their supporters who were accused of land grab and were put behind bars. But, when rumours started floating around that Stalin and Kanimozhi would be given greater party roles, Azhagiri felt isolated and left alone.

If at all the party breaks into two warring factions, the one that has amassed more power, influence and clout prior to the split, is certain is win. Political base or vote banks will be just one among many factors.

The key area of conflict will be the Tamil film industry which is a huge source of financial strength. Till now whoever has controlled the film industry has invariably controlled Tamil Nadu politics. This is not expected to change in the near future.

“If he could remain CM in his next life, Karunanidhi would choose that over everything else,” joked political commentator Cho Ramasamy. “But since he is an atheist, he has no choice but to pick a successor.”

Boulevard of broken dreams

                                    

April 5, 2009, was just another day for me. But Mahatma Gandhi Road, now popularly called MG Road and South Parade in pre-independence times, was set to lose one of its last remnants of history.

The Indian Coffee House, which stood as a mute spectator since 1959 to many significant changes in MG Road’s landscape, was catering to its customers for one last time in an ambience as serene as ever. For old-timers like my father it was a sad end to a glorious chapter.

Bangalore has always been a city that attracted migrants, its weather the single biggest factor. First, it was the turn of Tamilians who settled in Halasuru, an area off MG Road. Then came the British. The cosmopolitan aura reflects in the areas in and around MG Road. These were part of the cantonment area of Bangalore (other being the ‘city’), which stretched to twelve and a half square miles, established by the British Military Garrison.

Lord Cornwallis is said to have led his army through present day MG Road in the 1780s when he attacked Tipu Sultan’s fort in Kalasipalyam. The British managed to defeat Tipu in 1799. But they were driven out of Srirangapatnam by mosquitoes and they took refuge in Bangalore’s Cantonment. Trinity Church, located at the start of MG Road, was constructed for the garrisoned soldiers.

In complete contrast to the other side of Bangalore (Malleshwaram, Chamarajpet and Basavanagudi), which was conservative to the core and swore by idli vada and by-two coffee, the landscape in the cantonment area was dotted by bars, pubs, discotheques and movie theatres that screened ‘English movies’ and restaurants that served fancy food.

For someone like me, who has lived his entire life in Bangalore, one for whom ‘home’ is speaking in Kannada and munching authentic South-Indian food, MG Road was completely out of bounds. It was an alien territory, as much as London or Paris.

Girls draped in western wear, smoking cigars and having a drink or two were commonplace. New Year’s Eve and Christmas parties at the ‘Hard Rock Café’ found audience among the ‘Generation Next.’ It was, by far, the most ‘happening’ place for new-age Bangaloreans.

Despite this, it is MG Road which settlers, old and new, orthodox and liberal have always associated and identified Bangalore with. Its beautiful green canopy, boulevard with arched bougainvillea that ran the length of the road, theatres like Plaza and Galaxy and the Indian Coffee House were the main attractions.

                                      

Bangalore is the only city where exotic varieties of flowers and trees bloom for almost nine months a year. Shades of this are still evident in Cubbon Park, which lies at one end of MG Road with flora and fauna sprawling over 100 acres.

A walk along the boulevard, filter coffee at Indian Coffee House, smelling sandalwood sculptures at Cauvery Emporium and a late night movie at plaza; the MG Road of today offers none of these.

With the exception of one or two, most of the older buildings have been razed. In their place stand multi-storey buildings, corporate offices and malls with glitzy glass exteriors. The Barton Center and the Utility building, perhaps the last showcases of colonial times, no longer have those small little restaurants on the terrace.

Gone are the morning walkers, evening joggers and shopkeepers on the pavements. A giant flyover-like structure right at the centre of the road on which Bangalore’s ‘Namma Metro’ runs has reduced the erstwhile boulevard to rubble.

                                 

However, the Indian Coffee House was reinstated last year, albeit at a different location. On Church Street, parallel to MG Road. The aroma of the filter coffee, the taste of the masala dosa and the red-turbaned waiters, are all still the same.

But the spirit just doesn’t seem to be there any more; it gives way to a wave of nostalgia that sweeps over people. In May this year, a high-value commercial space, close to Barton Centre and a few hundred yards away from the earlier location of the Indian Coffee House, was leased to Café Coffee Day. “A lot can happen over a cup of coffee.” A lot can happen, indeed.