In moments of national tragedy, politics is expected to pause. Facts must be allowed to surface, institutions must be allowed to work, and grief must be allowed its dignity. Yet, in the aftermath of the tragic aircraft crash that claimed the life of Maharashtra Deputy Chief Minister Ajit Pawar, the familiar reflexes of India’s Opposition once again surfaced—not restraint, not responsibility, but reckless insinuation.
Leading the charge was West Bengal Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee, who, in her characteristically dramatic tone, demanded a judicial probe and publicly hinted that the “timing” of the crash was suspicious. The implication was clear: that Pawar’s death was somehow politically convenient, allegedly linked to rumours of his dissatisfaction within the NDA. Akhilesh Yadav of the Samajwadi Party echoed similar doubts. Together, these statements turned a tragic accident into a theatre of conspiracy.
Let us begin with the facts, not the fantasies.
The aircraft involved was a twin‑engine turboprop—a category widely used for short to medium-haul official and chartered flights across India. Such aircraft are designed for reliability, with redundant flight control systems, dual engines, and advanced avionics that include weather radar, terrain awareness and warning systems (TAWS), and real-time engine monitoring. They are built to operate in varied weather conditions and on shorter runways, making them a staple for regional connectivity and official travel. Maintenance of such aircraft is governed by strict Directorate General of Civil Aviation (DGCA) protocols, including mandatory pre-flight inspections, scheduled engine overhauls, and periodic airworthiness certification.
A crash involving such a platform is, therefore, not something that can be casually reduced to a political whodunit. Aviation investigations are complex, technical, and evidence-driven. They involve analysis of flight data recorders, cockpit voice recorders, maintenance logs, pilot training records, air traffic control transcripts, weather data, and wreckage patterns. These probes are conducted by trained professionals, not politicians with microphones.
Against this backdrop, Mamata Banerjee’s remarks stand out not as concern but as provocation.
Ajit Pawar’s political journey itself offers no shortage of drama without adding fictional endings. Known as Sharad Pawar’s ambitious nephew, Ajit has long been a central figure in Maharashtra’s volatile power play. From the failed early-morning swearing-in with the BJP in 2019, to his eventual split from the Nationalist Congress Party and alignment with the BJP-Shinde-led Mahayuti, his career has been marked by bold gambits and calculated risks. He has faced allegations ranging from the multi-crore irrigation scam during his tenure as Irrigation Minister to questions over his political manoeuvres in recent civic and assembly polls.
Politically, Ajit Pawar was navigating choppy waters. His faction’s performance in the civic body elections, especially in the shadow of his uncle’s rival NCP faction, was far from commanding. The BJP and Eknath Shinde’s Shiv Sena emerged as the dominant forces, bagging the lion’s share of urban bodies, including a decisive performance in Mumbai. If anything, Pawar was grappling with relevance within a powerful alliance, not threatening it.
To spin this complex, very public political reality into a cloak-and-dagger tale of elimination is not just irresponsible—it is dangerous.
In contrast, one of the few voices that struck a humane and grounded note was that of Farooq Abdullah. The veteran National Conference leader spoke not of plots or power, but of loss. He recalled knowing Ajit Pawar from his college days in Mumbai, not merely as Sharad Pawar’s nephew, but as a young, driven politician finding his own place in public life. It was a reminder that behind every political label lies a human story.
Mamata Banerjee’s intervention, however, seemed less about empathy and more about exploiting a moment. It fits a broader pattern where tragedy becomes an opportunity to cast aspersions on institutions, governments, and the democratic process itself. This is the same politics that thrives on suggesting “invisible hands” and “shadowy forces” whenever electoral arithmetic or political momentum does not favour them.
India’s democracy is robust enough to handle dissent, criticism, and even sharp opposition. What it does not need is a steady drip of conspiracy theories that erode public trust in every system—from aviation safety to investigative agencies—without a shred of evidence.
Grief should unite, not be weaponised. Investigations should be awaited, not pre-judged. And leaders, especially those occupying constitutional office, should weigh their words with the gravity their positions demand.
Mamata Banerjee’s “crazy condolences” may earn headlines and momentary applause in partisan corners, but they leave behind something far more corrosive: the idea that in India, even death cannot escape the suspicion of politics. That is a tragedy no aircraft crash can explain—and no responsible leader should ever endorse.
