Politicians Win, Parties Sweep, People Lose; A Curious Case of Bihar

Not very long ago, about fifty years back, there was a landlord who owned 240 hectares of land, five elephants, twelve horses and hundreds of cattle. It is also said that he kept a tiger in a cage. Rumours suggest that at the slightest defiance, one would be thrown into the cage of the hungry tiger. His whip was always wet with blood.

Who was he? And who were the ones living in the shadow of fear of his blood-soaked whip and the roaring tiger, yet still daring to defy his tyrant rule at the cost of their lives?

His name was Jagadishwarjeet Singh, popularly known as “The Man-Eater of Manatu,” a tribal block in the Daltonganj district of then Bihar. A tyrant landlord with no mercy in his heart and no fear of the law. And those who lived under him were bonded men and women who could be thrown into his “death cell” even if they paused for a moment to drink water from a handpump in his fields.

The rest is history.

(P. Sainath’s In Search of the Indian Village: Stories and Reports, edited by Mamang Dai, carries an especially striking chapter on “The Man-Eater of Manatu.”- OBC – Desk )
More recently, a man shot and injured his wife for not voting for his preferred candidate in a north Bihar parliamentary constituency.

Even more recently, a reporter, a top channel head and editor of a corporate-run news magazine was on an election tour in Bihar. In a dense north Bihar semi-rural area, he asked a man, surrounded by locals, what his reaction would be if his wife voted for a different party or candidate. The man instantly replied, “I will beat her with a baton not less than twenty times.” People around smiled. The reporter, eager to display his liberal mindset, asked, “And how will you see whom she votes for inside the booth?” An equally prompt reply came: “I will lock her in the room. I will see how she goes to vote.”

The reporter smiled shyly and moved on to another local with an even more loaded question, without telling the man that even uttering such words publicly is an offence. Needless to say, their conversation is now a social-media sensation.

I can tell you thousands of such stories about this state, reeling under caste atrocity, corruption, forced migration, floods, famine, and above all the sexual vulnerability of poverty-stricken women. The timeline is unbroken.

Could I introduce you to this Bihar? The place of Buddha’s awakening, the Lichchavi Gantantra (supposedly the world’s first democracy), the heritage of Nalanda University, and the unparalleled bravery of people who fought the British during the 1857 revolt?

This most poverty-stricken state of northern India, what they call the cow belt, has turned into a textbook case of atrocity and oppression, with false promises turning into votes. It is the only state that sends its workers in the highest numbers to other states because there is no work at home. Analysts call it involuntary migration. And our prime minister promises world-class trains so they can at least travel to their labour destinations in comfort.

Truly, a rich state with poor people.

Before bifurcation, Bihar had both minerals and agriculture in plenty. After bifurcation, the southern part became Jharkhand on 15 November 2000. Bihar remained agriculturally rich, but ordinary people hardly tasted that richness. The social construct rooted in caste, and thriving on caste violence, kept people from accessing their entitlements. Unequal wages which is lower still for women, inhuman working conditions, and months without employment forced workers to flee. Most are landless labourers or marginal farmers.

Poverty has therefore been chronic and exists largely within the agrarian economy. Floods arrive annually in the absence of mitigation policy. Caste rigidity and the dominance of upper-caste landlord-politicians determine governance, ensuring that the poor and Dalit-Backward communities remain deprived of welfare schemes. It is no surprise that Bihar’s per-capita annual income is only ₹66,000, a mere ₹5,500 a month, less than ₹200 a day.

People ask why. We tell them: “Because we are a rich agrarian state. Look, we have world-famous bananas from Hajipur, globally known litchi from Muzaffarpur, makhana from Darbhanga, and the best Langda mangoes. We grow mushrooms, wheat, corn, rice, pulses, oilseeds and sugarcane.”

Across the Ganges in Bhagalpur, we produce the best Tasar silk. People still remember the Bhagalpur violence on minority weavers that took thousands of lives and destroyed an art that had existed for centuries, devoured by the powerloom industry. Politicians shed crocodile tears while weaving communities lost their past, their livelihood and their future. Many still await the compensation they were promised.

From 1952 till today, countless elections have been held- Parliament, Assembly, Panchayat, civic bodies and more. In each of these, politicians won, parties swept, but people lost. Booths were captured, people were not allowed to cross their thresholds, and ballot papers were thrown in the trash. Landlords, politicians and the state machinery have long stood in alliance with a single objective: only the upper caste should rule. There were exceptions, but none could complete a full five-year term even within their own party.

The bifurcation meant to bring progress to both Bihar and Jharkhand instead pushed Bihar deeper into a service-led economy, making it more dependent on the service sector. With no industrial growth, a vulnerable education system, and no Renaissance-era reform movement like in parts of south, central or east India, Bihar remained poor in its richness.

The elections have just concluded with much fanfare, and now exit polls are screaming from rooftops about possible victories and defeats. But the questions raised by people before and after every election remain unanswered.

I imagine Gautam Buddha sitting quietly under the banyan tree in Bodh Gaya, weeping in deep silence.

Do we hear him?