Bihar Elections Diary: An abundance of caste and faith, but a drought of basics of living

Voters here are highly conscious of their choices, be they driven by caste or the lack of even basic development beyond urban centres

The lasting image for me, in these fiercely contested Bihar polls, has been a sprightly elderly woman in Rana Bigha, telling me very matter-of-factly: “Jo vote nahi karta, voh maha murukh hota hai.” (Those who do not vote, are idiots of the highest order).
 
Ramashree Devi is illiterate; she lost her husband to illicit liquor ten years ago but struggled hard to get her two sons educated. The elder one now runs a coaching centre to train college kids for competitive exams. She has no TV, can’t read the newspapers and yet is extremely well informed. Sitting outside her home with her less vocal sister-in-law, she questions me (since I am a journalist, she adds by way of explanation) “What happened to those culprits who caused so many mid-day meal deaths? All those dead children – the next generation of so many families were wiped out!”
 
As such, she is not one to take things lying down. Appalled at the growing number of liquor shops in the area, she assembled the women of surrounding villages and they led a protest march to the District Magistrate. “Why is Nitish Kumar allowing liquor to flow so freely? In Delhi, your legal drinking age is 25 why is it lower here, 21?” But she is equally scathing of BJP’s face in the polls, PM Narendra Modi. “What benefit is the Jan Dhan Yojana for me, a poor person if I have to put in so much money into the account. All this big talk, amounting to nothing!” she says, shaking her head disapprovingly.   
 
The average Bihari, is extremely politically astute, especially the women. Caste may be an overriding factor, but nonetheless he/she is fully aware of ground realities.
 
Ritesh Kumar has just completed his graduation in Hindi Honours from ANS College in Barh. “Totally inspired by Chief Minister Nitish Kumar”, he has joined the JD(U) campaign team. I encounter him in one of the many villages that he cycles to every day with the placard of JD(U) poll promises perched on the rear of the cycle and the megaphone belting out Grand Alliance campaign promises. Young boys like him are paid Rs 200 per day to distribute JD(U) pamphlets to far flung villages in Patna district. Ritesh aspires to be a professor, he tells me he has applied to Magadh University.
 

Ritesh Kumar, college kid campaigns for Nitish Kumar

“I’m optimistic about Nitish Kumar, he will fulfil his promises. At least he has done some work in giving a thrust to education. Have you seen the ‘Bahubalis’ we have that go by the name of candidates, like Anant Singh?” he asks me. Ritesh says he is working to ensure that Nitish comes back as chief minister; the 200 rupees are insignificant in his view of the world.
 
Surprisingly, after two terms at the helm, Nitish Kumar faces no anti-incumbency. Even his rivals grudgingly admit that. The chief minister enjoys unwavering goodwill and whatever apprehensions are voiced is because of his alignment with Lalu Prasad. 
 
Despite that, I found, whatever “development” has taken place is restricted around urban Patna. Away from the city, on the fringes of what is still officially Patna district, stark poverty hits you in the face in the form of malnourished kids with bloated stomachs. The nearest hospital is in Patna, 50 km away. Beyond the city limits, villages don’t have tubewells, open defecation is rampant. I am informed that even in Kalyan Bigha, the chief minister’s plush home village, toilets are unheard of.  
 
Caste is alive and kicking in Bihar – and for all those who tell you it is not – 9 times out of 10 are the upper caste ‘savarna’ ( Brahmins, Bhumihars) who talk of wanting Narendra Modi and the BJP because of “vikas”, a term much bandied about in these elections.
 
In many ways, this has been a fight between the “Agada and Pichchda” (forward and backward castes). In upper caste-dominated Mokama, Dhanuk, a woman from an extremely backward caste, tells my colleague in a local dialect that an upper caste Bhumihar (landed gentry) man came into her house and tried to molest her; the villagers chased him away. Such is the fear that they live with on a daily basis, she tells us.     
 
Another elderly woman in Barh reveals out of earshot of her Bhumihar neighbours how in this Rajput dominated area, a mother and son had had a glass of water at an upper caste home. The Bhumihars came and beat them to pulp.  Munki Devi and her daughter-in-law have to walk across to the Ganga river every day to wash the clothes of their large household; there is no tap or hand pump on their side of the village.
 
For a state with low levels of literacy like Bihar, the majority of people are still blinded by faith. I encountered a jeep, full of village elders, which had pulled up on the side of the highway. They were carrying the dead body of a woman, a young ‘bahu’ from the village, on top of the jeep and travelling from Nalanda district to Gaya, over 80 km away, to cremate her.
 
What made it all the more stark was that no attempt had been made to prevent the corpse from decomposing in the scorching heat; indeed, the entire journey was just so a ritual cremation on the banks of the Ganga could be performed.
 
At this juncture in Bihar, when the state is yet to achieve even basic standards of living, the least that can be expected from these polls is a decisive mandate. One that will ensure that a state so deeply riven by caste is not further divided or polarized further along religious lines, and that basic facilities reach every household and not just the privileged ones.