There was something in the air of Siwan, made infamous by former Rashtriya Janata Dal MP Shahabuddin, that made us uncomfortable. Were they the result of stories we had heard before – of extortion, of booth capturing or of silencing opponents? Traffic just wouldn’t move. There were several people willing to misguide us on the location of the hotel we were supposed to check in. One wrong turn and we were in the middle of a bazaar where it was tough for vehicles to even crawl. After nearly 40 minutes of that ordeal, our car came face to face with lathi wielding young men accompanying an idol immersion procession.
After reaching the hotel, we contacted our local guide who happened to be an upper caste journalist working for a news channel. He promised to meet us in ten minutes and turned up exactly an hour later. His words of caution:
The henchmen of Shahabuddin became active the day Nitish Kumar decided to form an alliance with Lalu Prasad. What law and order? You will hardly see anyone venturing out after 7 pm now.
Fear of Jungle Raj vs Egalitarianism
Even as we were engrossed in a conversation at a restaurant, two women walked in to have dinner around 9 pm. They did not look scared at all. When we asked our guide how women could venture out so late in a “scary” town, his simple answer was “abhi to sab theek hi hai lekin ye jyada din tak theek nahin rehne wala hai (things are alright at the moment but they are not going to remain so in future).”
This was one narrative, mostly spelt out by a section, of impending “Jungle Raj” that we kept hearing in town after town during the course of our 10-day journey in Bihar. There were apprehensions of markets getting closed after 7 pm, of movement of vehicles getting restricted after sunset, and of increased theft and dacoity. We didn’t see any of that actually taking place but the putative fear of what is to come has kept the narrative alive.
The counter-narrative was equally compelling. We went to a village near Bidupur town (part of Raghopur assembly constituency in Vaishali district). We chanced upon a group of Lalu Prasad’s supporters who gave an altogether different spin to the term “Jungle Raj”. “Junglee is one who favours egalitarianism since there is no hierarchy in a jungle. Just because we stand for the promotion of interests of the downtrodden we are called junglee. And we don’t mind that,” one of them told us. Another one narrated a mythological tale according to which Yadu, mythological ancestor of Yadavs, had to set out for the jungle because he refused to compromise with his principles.
Development a Side Show?
Amidst scores of narratives and counter-narratives, we hardly encountered people discussing issues that are likely to impact them other than vaguely mentioning the development word – perhaps a fallout of how campaign unfolded and the contest got reduced to one set of primordial identity versus another.
Rallies became a function of organisational capability. Nukkad discussions got reduced to counting numbers of such and such castes. Celebratory fervour associated with the festival of democracy that elections are, gave way to let us get over and done with that kind of feeling.
Unfamiliar Faces, Familiar Hospitality
But we met people who gave us confidence that sane voices can be subdued for a while but cannot be suppressed. In the midst of a naked display of the power of money in elections, we met an 85-year old candidate, known as Munshi Kaka in the area, contesting as Communist Party of India (Marxist) nominee from Maharajganj. His entire campaign was run by volunteers. The high point of his campaign was a locally recorded campaign song in Bhojpuri, a local dialect, sung by Munshi Kaka’s supporters. His child-like laughter was infectious, his fighting spirit fully intact even at this age and his confidence in better days to come unshakeable.
Our caravan moved north-east towards what is known as Seemanchal. In the predominantly Muslim locality of Baisi in Purnea district we met a 70-old tea seller. He was wary of all that is going on in the name of religion in politics. He should remain unnamed as he so wished, but not his hospitality. He refused to take money for the tea he served us despite our insistence just because we were from Delhi. His parting namaskar will forever be etched in our memory. Not because of free tea. But because of the Bihari spirit of welcoming guests with an open heart, which was on full display in his demeanour.
(The writer contributes regularly to the Business Standard)
(At The Quint, we are answerable only to our audience. Play an active role in shaping our journalism by becoming a member. Because the truth is worth it.)