And the legacy ends

As I was going through the numerous "take care" and "stay home" messages I received as news of the death of Shiv Sena patriarch Bal Thackeray was reported, within just a few minutes I could hear the noise of the traffic growing louder—nearly as loud as the chatter of the people in the grocery store-cum-chemist downstairs who were scrambling to stock up on eatables to keep them going during the bandh the Sena is sure to call for.

I don’t know what I was expecting to see once news of Thackeray's death spread, but it wasn’t this: A man from the local municipal council, who collects the building’s garbage, standing at my door asking for his Diwali bonus. I found this strangely amusing considering I live right behind the Shiv Sena's local headquarters.

Anyway, the city had come to a near standstill in the last two days when word about Thackeray being critically ill spread. Local trains had half the usual number of commuters; the roads barely saw any autorickshaws or buses plying; shops in the busiest markets in the city remained closed.

After Shiv Sainiks (as the party supporters are known) pelted stones at a restaurant for staying open past 11 p.m. while their leader was ailing, all stores are now shooing their customers away in a hurry to avoid being attacked themselves. And strangely, even the small police check posts (chowks) are closed.

Shiv Sena leaders have appealed to the thousands of mourning supporters gathered outside Thackeray’s suburban residence, Matoshree, and asked them to maintain peace and not disrupt the city’s regular goings on. But despite this, the police are sure to be on their toes the next few days and tackle however the mob chooses to act out.

But here’s the twist: Word is that the "Sena Supremo," as Thackeray is known, passed away a few days back, but given the current festive season, the news was kept under wraps.

Sources from media houses claimed the same, with one having overheard that the announcement would be made this afternoon, as was seen.

I don't know how much truth there is to this statement, but having heard this rumour before the official announcement was made, it all seemed very insensitive to me that the hundreds of well-wishers gathered outside Matoshree were kept in the dark for days.

This has left me with mixed feelings. Yes, I do feel sad about the demise of such a prominent and powerful figure, but also a little angry that the family would leave their loyal supporters hanging this way.

I was in my third year of college in Calcutta when Jyoti Basu died, and in spite of him being in office for over two decades, he did not get the kind of support that I now see Bal Thackeray receiving. There were many who hated him and his beliefs for years, but there was no escaping the reach of his iron fist.