If there is one thing that we have learnt from the political shenanigans of the past decade, it is that India will continue, perforce, with coalitional politics until and unless the two main national parties, the Indian National Congress and the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), emerge from the roiling generational current in which they are caught — the end of gerontocracy and the rise of the Young Turks.

The social and geographical reach of the Congress has been steadily shrinking for the past two decades: it has been forced to accept a B-team status in eight states and its existence in two major states is precarious. The BJP has not succeeded in expanding its reach to outside the so-called Hindi belt. Consequently, both parties have been reduced to depending on regional satraps. Both today face each other directly, and without the influence of a third force or buffer, only in 107 Lok Sabha seats in six states.

The problem is that while the solution seems to be self-evident, the motivation to change doesn't seem to have taken hold. There are no clear indications that both the parties might be able to reverse the current — at least in the short term — because both are going through the traumatic, soul-altering phase of a generational change: their top leaders, associated for the past five decades with what passes for nation-building in this country, have participated in the last Lok Sabha election of their eventful lives. Geriatrics says that they will not have the physical and mental wherewithal to actively participate in the next elections. These oldtimers worked on the basis of a national outlook that extended beyond state, caste, class and special interest group/s. The Congress rested on the substantial laurels of its activism in the freedom struggle; the BJP veterans based everything they did on their understanding of a "national" Hindu heritage. Even the much-maligned Socialists and Communists had a national vision.

As things stand, men like the recently-departed P V Narasimha Rao — and even the oldsters alive — will no longer be available, for wisdom or veneration, to the reigning generation of politicians. The Communist Party of India (Marxist)'s Jyoti Basu and Harkishen Singh Surjeet, Chandra Shekhar of the Socialists, and the redoubtable Vishwanath Pratap Singh, who represents an undefined but liberal interest, as well as Atal Behari Vajpayee and Lal Krishna Advani of the BJP and Bhairon Singh Shekhawat have seen the last summer of their political careers.

In their place have marched in regional plenipotentiaries who hold the keys to the majority in the Lok Sabha, and thereby holding the reins to the office of the prime minister. Not that the emergence of these mavericks holds out high hopes of strengthening democracy, the federal structure and federal governance in the country: each one represents and espouses sectional interest, class or, at most, caste interest. None has shown an interest in a national outlook, or any outlook that would go beyond his chosen interest or the borders of his particular state.

Perhaps the fault lies with the political parties they lead: almost without exception, they preside over parties with no inner democracy. They are that contradiction in terms, dictators in democracy, and they brook no dissent or disobedience. Those who disagree with them have no place in their parties.

The Bahujan Samaj Party's signal embarrassment, Mayawati, is prone to inciting the Dalits against the upper castes rather than inspiring them to be creative and productive. Her mentor, Kanshi Ram, had taken two decades to organise them into a social movement for the awakening of the Dalit mind. She uses her mentor Kanshi Ram, now confined to bed due to serious illness, as a deity that is brought out in public periodically on occasions like her birthdays so that the followers would see that she still commands control over him and thus obey her. She certainly has not assimilated his teachings to use them for greater good of the Dalits. She makes no bones about wanting to use them for self-aggrandisement, political and financial. That she is entirely intolerant of new ideas was proved by the manner in which she ended the career of Rashid Alvi.

Uttar Pradesh Chief Minister and Samajwadi Party leader, Mulayam Singh Yadav and Union Railway Minister and Rashtriya Janata Dal boss, Laloo Prasad Yadav are virtual party despots. Neither has formally adopted a democratic structure — neither, in fact, sees the need to — or a well thought-out policy framework for the party or an outlook that includes all class interests. Both display their determination to foster the family rule over the party and the state.

Ram Vilas Paswan of the Janata Dal could not hide the limitations of his vision when he was Union Railway Minister: his entire tenure was wedded to starting new projects only in his home state of Bihar. So also was the performance of the Samata Party's Nitish Kumar. Both wear on their sleeve the ambition of becoming chief minister and can abandon partners midway when they feel that the ally would not help them to climb into the saddle. Paswan could be complementary but not an independence political force in the state or outside.

And the Bengali banshee, Mamata Bannerji of the Trinamool Congress, who presides with shrill ιlan over her regional arrangements, has as the essence of her politics, a purblind opposition to the ruling Left in West Bengal. Insecure but highly ambitious, over the past decade, she has changed her colours — and political partners — quicker than a chameleon.

Orissa Chief Minister Navin Patnaik of the Biju Janata Dal, Ajit Singh of the Rashtriya Lok Dal in Uttar Pradesh, and Om Prakash Choutala of the Indian National Lok Dal in Haryana have long been depending on the name and influence their fathers wielded. They would find it difficult to dispute that they have no manifesto or politics except exploiting their parentage. There is nothing to tell apart the two Dravida Munnetra Kazhagams in Tamil Nadu — both are being managed by autocrats, Tamil Nadu Chief Minister J Jayalalithaa of the AIADMK and K Karunanidhi of the AIADMK (the latter is grooming his son, M K Stalin, to be his clone). Further north in Punjab, the Shiromani Akali Dal has become the family heritage of Prakash Singh Badal.

Chandrababu Naidu of the Telugu Desam Party had given ample evidence of his limited vision and his limited interest during the six years of the erstwhile National Democratic Alliance regime.

He ruled his party with a firmness that bordered on the painful, and his legacy has left Andhra Pradesh a more class-divided state.

Sharad Pawar's Nationalist Congress Party is an offshoot of the Congress, and, in time-honoured Congress fashion, it runs entirely on the strength of his personality alone. Although he tries to maintain a semblance of democratic functioning within his party, its structure is a purely nominated one. He shows sparks of brilliance on some national issues but is entirely dependent on his state for his survival in politics. His influence does not fully extend even in the state was proved in the last election to the Lok Sabha as well as in the State Assembly elections.

These regional satraps together hold nearly 260 seats in the Lok Sabha. Between the two of them, the two national parties 283 seats, which is only 10 more than the majority required to rule India. However, what is important is that they have won nearly 90 seats by riding on the shoulders of allies in states where they have accepted the status of a B-team. What result would emerge if they were to contest in these states on their own is a moot point.

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