In the end, and despite all the inconvenience, it was not a bad thing that the IPL matches in Mumbai and Pune were relocated. The in-your-face extravaganza just as grim images of water trains leaving for Latur inundated the media would have been inappropriate once attention, however politically cynical the intent, was drawn to the dissonance. All politicians know optics matter - though photos of Pankaja Munde taking joyous, filmy-style selfies against the parched Marathwada landscape on a tour of duty unwittingly revealed how deeply the political class cares about those withering from a prolonged, policy-induced water shortage.
Public memory, however, is notoriously short. So the controversy over the water the state government released from the Gangapur dam on the Godavari for holy dips during the Kumbh Mela in Nashik less than a year ago has received far less attention or censure. There were no overt expressions of discontent by the political class over images of sadhus splashing around in abundant water in the Godavari as crops withered in fields for lack of water.
Also Read
The issue may not have even been raised at that time had it not been for one courageous professor of economics, Hiralal Desarda, who filed a public interest litigation against releasing water for these snans, prompting a notice from the Bombay High Court to the state government enquiring about the quantity of water being released for the purpose.
Reports say about 0.2 thousand million cubic feet (TMC) of water was released for the four days of the holy dips, roughly five per cent of the annual water supply reserved for Nashik city. That doesn't sound like much, but even that amount could be ill afforded at a time when successive monsoon failure meant reservoir levels were dangerously low. A week after the Kumbh, more draconian supply cuts were imposed on parts of the city. This is hardly an example of responsible governance. As Mr Desarda pointed out, the decision also violated the state and national water policies, which prioritise water supply for drinking, agriculture and commercial needs, in that order. Religious purposes are not mentioned, he said.
The state administration's response that it would face a law and order problem if there was insufficient water for holy dips reveals how much elected authorities and, consequently, state administrative apparatuses are being held hostage by a particular constituency (some practising Hindus pointed out that pouring a small amount of water poured over the head would have been just as symbolically appropriate, suggesting that a viable alternative was at hand).
Capitulation of this nature is increasingly occurring at the cost of public welfare. We have Sri Sri Ravi Shankar's cultural show on the Yamuna floodplains as one egregious example, where even the Aam Aadmi Party showed itself vulnerable to religious majoritarianism. Then, there's the beef ban in select states to consider. It may have satisfied the ideologues who underwrite saffron politics but it has ruthlessly closed alternative income options for farmers in these same regions, stuck with cattle they cannot sell when crops fail.
To those prone to political posturing, banishing IPL matches from Maharashtra is a low-risk, high-return gesture when compared with the consequences of denying water to devotees seeking a dubious salvation. Sadly, it is also unlikely that administrators from the cash-rich cricket body will draw lessons and invest in water recycling plants in India's many stadiums, just as signature golf courses, facing environmentalists' ire around the world, have made standard operating procedure.
Yet, in a small but significant way, this controversy has exemplified how a specific social agenda can impact the broader business milieu. Though the IPL isn't that big a business when set against the corporate sector this dispute exemplifies the kind of unpredictability in public decision-making that contradict the regime's stated efforts to make India foreign investor-friendly.
Saffron-induced capriciousness in public policy is already manifesting itself in Gurgaon, where the effort expended on renaming a thriving global business hub has been far larger than any commensurate exertion on improving the city's infrastructure since the Khattar government came to power. The large Korean and Japanese expatriate communities that work in some of the world's largest multinationals located in the city are finding their lifestyle options being narrowed: already intimidated by the dust, pollution and lack of law and order that make it difficult for their children to enjoy much freedom, episodes like the Dadri vigilantism are terrifying a people for whom beef is a staple part of their dietary culture.
In today's febrile political atmosphere, the gap between sense and sensitivities is growing wider.