No one would have imagined, even in their wildest dreams, that the Kalvakuntla family would end up scripting its own political obituary barely a decade after creating a formidable regional party. The only consolation is that, unlike the Mughal-style dynastic traditions where blood relatives eliminated each other, this family has so far confined itself to political assassinations rather than physical ones.
Well-educated and well-groomed—if not recklessly pampered—how did this family implode like this? The biggest shock is that it was Kavitha, of all people, who staged the revolt. The family once boasted of its agrarian wealth, aristocratic airs, and prosperity. That foundation allowed KCR to give his son and daughter the best of education, while his nephew Harish Rao, more grounded, settled for a polytechnic degree before steadily proving his mettle in politics. In terms of popularity, after KCR, it was Harish first, followed by KTR and then Kavitha. With KCR firmly entrenched as Chief Minister of the new state, his children were launched smoothly into politics and quickly earned the confidence of their constituencies.
Initially, KCR seemed to follow the mantra of “deserve before you desire,” giving his children a measured start in politics. Soon, though, both KTR and Kavitha were scaling up on their own. Their oratory, body language, and public appeal convinced people that these were leaders worthy of Telangana’s future. KCR was hailed as the model patriarch who had blended family with politics without inviting turmoil.
And yet, all this collapsed like a pack of cards with one stroke of Kavitha’s rebellion. In the process, she risks scoring a self-goal—unless, of course, deeper layers emerge in the days ahead that reveal a larger conspiracy. She should have known better: women in politics are judged far more harshly by other women than by men. Worse still, by declaring she doesn’t care whether the party survives or perishes, Kavitha has indirectly questioned even her father’s relevance—because, for all practical purposes, BRS is KCR and KCR is BRS.
For a decade in power, there wasn’t the slightest hint of an impending family feud. Any routine differences were seen as normal in a political household. For U.S.-educated, cosmopolitan children to turn on their own father in this fashion has left many stunned. How did KCR, a man who could sense the pulse of four crore Telanganites, fail to detect discontent brewing among just four members of his own family? That irony is not lost on anyone.
Kavitha’s claim that her father was deceived by his brother Harish and cousin Santosh doesn’t add up. If she truly cared about her father, rebellion would have been the last thing on her mind. Instead, she has only strengthened Modi’s oft-repeated warning to politicians: “Keep your families away from politics.” The truth, of course, is that every party in India—from Congress to BJP to regional outfits—has family strings attached. But rarely do such strings turn into nooses, as is happening here.
The tragedy is that the rank-and-file of BRS never resented the family. On the contrary, the workers had accepted all four leaders with respect and affection. For them, the sudden feud is bewildering, leaving them stranded at a crossroads. Their frantic appeals to “set things right” may now be too little, too late.
To his credit, KCR acted swiftly and assertively, signaling that the party is larger than the family. Workers may actually find renewed confidence in this, reassured that no one—not even a blood relative—can cross the Lakshman Rekha. Going forward, BRS must learn from cadre-driven organizations like RSS and BJP, where dissent is either self-silenced or decisively crushed. Only such discipline can preserve a party’s survival.
Why Kavitha revolted remains a mystery. Was it sheer greed? Pressure from rival parties eager to see BRS destabilized? Or perhaps a Machiavellian ploy inspired by palace intrigue? Some even argue it could be a staged family drama—but would the Kalvakuntlas risk such self-destruction for theatrics? The liquor scam already hangs like a shadow: while KCR, KTR, and Harish remain untainted, Kavitha is out on bail, and that fact alone dents her credibility.
The timing is also eerie. Her revolt coincides with the 30th anniversary of Chandrababu Naidu’s rise as Chief Minister, marked by his infamous backstabbing of NTR. On the same day, here is KCR being politically wounded by his own daughter. Is this mere coincidence—or Naidu’s sweet revenge, proving his earlier rival right when he once called him “the dirtiest politician”?
Now that KCR has demonstrated that BRS is not synonymous with his family, the onus shifts to senior leaders. They must rally behind the remaining trio—KCR, KTR, and Harish—and insulate the party from further damage. Otherwise, along with the family, BRS too will be forced to write its own obituary.
If Revanth Reddy could drag Congress back from its deathbed and briefly taste power, BRS too can reinvent itself—provided it prioritizes discipline, cadre, and unity above family feuds. The party’s challenge is to emerge like Abhimanyu: bloodied but unbowed, proving that it can fight through the chakravyuh of betrayal, conspiracy, and opportunism. The next few months will reveal whether BRS survives or perishes with the Kalvakuntla family’s implosion.
