In India, job titles are not as important as the last name. They open doors before questions are asked. The name Pawar in Maharashtra has long been associated with power, legacy, and control—and with it comes a web of influence that quietly cuts across politics and business.
This network came into the spotlight in 2025 when a ₹300-crore Pune land deal involving the son of the Deputy Chief Minister Ajit Pawar, Parth Pawar, was revealed. What appeared to be a clean corporate deal soon turned into a story of favors, loopholes, and political inheritance.
To a generation already weary of dynastic politics, the scandal raised a deeper question: when power becomes hereditary, does governance slowly turn into business?
Parth Pawar co-owns Amadea Enterprises LLP, which acquired approximately 40 acres of land in Pune’s Mundhwa region in May 2025 at ₹300 crore. On paper, it seemed like just another real-estate investment. However, the market value of the land was estimated at ₹1800 crore and the company paid only ₹500 as stamp duty, claiming exemption under a “data-centre project”.
Later, officials confirmed that no such government certificate existed. Under normal circumstances, such an exemption would have been impossible. Yet, the bureaucracy moved quickly, the land was registered, and permissions were granted.
The real twist? This was Mahar Watan land - state-owned property historically granted to the Mahar community and safeguarded under the Maharashtra Abolition of Watan Act. By law, such land cannot be sold or transferred privately. Yet it was, and to a company linked to one of the most powerful families in the state.
In India, political inheritance rarely ends with ideology; it spills over into influence. From the Gandhis in Delhi to the Yadavs in Uttar Pradesh and the Pawars in Maharashtra, families often dominate not just seats but systems.
In the case of Parth Pawar’s case, the controversy is not about violating laws on paper but operating within a system built to serve the powerful. When a government-protected plot changes hands so easily, the question isn’t only how — it’s who the system bends for.
For most young Indians, the deal is proof that legacy outweighs legality. It validates what they already know: in the halls of power, lineage is the true key. As The Print (2025) pointed out, “The land that could not be legally sold was — because in India, ownership and influence are rarely separate.”
Three state investigations in the state later confirmed that the Pune Mundhwa land is government property that cannot be privatized. However, those findings came only after the sale, once the media coverage brought the issue into the spotlight.
Officials who facilitated the registration were suspended, and the government ordered the firm to pay ₹42 crore in unpaid stamp duty to revoke the deal.
It’s a familiar pattern in Indian politics: accountability arrives too late and only after outrage. The bureaucracy bends quietly for the powerful, and laws are applied selectively. For ordinary citizens, the law is a gate; for political families, it’s a revolving door.
For a generation that reads headlines instead of newspapers, scandals like this no longer shock; they drain. Gen Z has grown up believing democracy means equality, yet they keep seeing surnames survive scandals.
According to a 2024 Pew Research survey, over 60% of young Indians believe politics benefits those born into it. The Pawar land deal only reinforces that belief. It is not just about money; it is about visibility. When the same families dominate politics, business, and even controversy, democracy begins to feel hereditary.
Online, young voters react with irony and exhaustion. Memes about “land inheritance” circulate alongside anger over unemployment and inflation. It’s not cynicism anymore; it is fatigue. Every new scandal feels like a rerun of the last, just starring new faces from the same old families.
Ajit Pawar has publicly said that he was unaware of the business transactions of his son and that he was open to an investigation. His quote is a sound political one in that it emphasizes the conflict itself: that a family name can grant entry even when the father insists that he is not close.
Although the actions that Parth Pawar might have carried out may have been autonomous, they took place within the framework of privilege that his last name constructed. Whether criminal intent is established or not, there is the perception of inherited rights. Politics in India is such that perception can be more important than evidence.
There are consequences to such a perception. It creates an atmosphere in which power becomes permanent, criticism becomes discretionary, and trust in the people becomes crept upon.
The 300-crore Mundhwa land scam is not just another financial scam. It can be seen as an indication of the way in which the rules of democracy are silently rewritten by the dynastic politics. It demonstrates how in India, power does not simply alternate between parties; it is circulating inside families.
The hereditary power is not necessarily illegal, but once it is the default solution to being influential, democracy is deprived of its moral structure. To a generation that requires transparency, this is intolerable.
Since when is politics a family business? It is the family property of politics, and the people are spectators. That does not cost ₹300 crore, but trust. And trust, after being sold, is the most difficult to purchase once more.
References:
- NDTV (2025). Explained: The ‘Land Scam’ That Stung Ajit Pawar’s Family. https://www.ndtv.com
- Economic Times (2025). Ajit Pawar’s Son to Pay ₹42 Crore to Cancel ₹300 Crore Controversial Pune Land Deal. https://m.economictimes.com
- Mid-Day (2025). Pune Land Deal Linked to Parth Pawar: Probe On; Truth Will Surface Soon, Says Ajit Pawar. https://www.mid-day.com
- Hindustan Times (2025). After the Mundhwa Land Deal Row, Maharashtra Makes Scrutiny of Stamp-Duty Waivers Mandatory. https://www.hindustantimes.com