Separated by 20 Years:Hopelessness to Soaring Aspirations in Bihar

Bihar has come a long way with the change evident in metalled roads and 18-hour power supply, writes Chandan Nandy.

Returning to Bihar 20 years after my last stint as a reporter there, when the state was undivided, streaking past acre after acre of silvery kaans grasslands and leafy villages and mofussil towns on either side of National Highway-57, the most striking feature that caught our attention was “the change” – visible and perceptible.

Twenty years ago, Bihar’s newly-empowered subaltern politicians and feudal bureaucrats had conspired to eat away the state’s vitals and even stole the fodder for cattle. In western Bihar, dusty tracks made for roads. In places like Bhojpur roads suddenly ended because the public works department had lost interest halfway through the project.

Catching Up With “The Change”

The bus conductor would bark at you to de-bus and walk across a river bed before you took another bus from the other bank because the bridge did not exist. Villagers in torn singlets and dhotis would crowd around the window to peddle “khincha khincha kheera” (succulent cucumber) because there was no other job. The women tended to starving livestock and the kitchen, where firewood or cow dung cakes fuelled the clay-caked chullah. Poverty was stark and the backwardness appalling.

Snatches of these snapshots from the past appeared as we drove up north from Patna – past the mammoth Mahatma Gandhi Bridge on the Ganga, past the dust- and fume-choked town of Hajipur before we hit NH-57 in Muzaffarpur – to catch up with “the change” that Bihar has achieved, perhaps at a pace faster than Uttar Pradesh.

Now, everywhere, clusters of thatched-roof huts have turned into brick houses, mist-encircled hamlets are well-lit villages with names, most villages have branches of most nationalised banks, schools with a fresh coat of pink or white paint buzz with activity as students share playgrounds with grazing goats and cattle, bicycle-riding girls in white salwar and dark blue kameez zip past and working women in dinky scooters commute between towns and villages to earn their livelihoods.

Some Old Habits Die Hard

Some village folk, mostly men, still walk to the fields in the morning, a neem twig-turned-tooth-brush dangling from their mouths and an aluminium lota gripped firmly in their calloused fingers – easy giveaways of a routine they have not been able to discard, even though efforts of a swachh Bihar find expression on state government-inspired rusting billboards in village after village. Old habits die hard, but more and more people are willing to give up the fields for even a basic toilet at home.

The rungbaaj or dabang (local toughs) who lived on easy pickings from sundry shops are nowhere to be seen, policemen who still wield antiquated Enfield rifles, though, patrol the towns and highways in slick Scorpios and Qualises, and infrequently in ramshackle Jeeps.

Along the 380-km-long drive from Patna to Purnea there has been an appreciable reach of the government, though empty shells of abandoned or unused administration buildings dot the entire stretch of smooth asphalt. The “line hotels” or dhabas operate round-the-clock, their proprietors unafraid of nocturnal raids by desperados who now cool their heels in prison. Trilok Singh, owner of a dhaba in Jalalpur where we had pulled up for some tea before driving into Purnea town said with satisfaction that he has had no trouble for the three years since he set up the roadside “hotel”.

Electricity Supply is Empowering

In the nine days that we traversed about 1,800 km – to the west and then the north-east – there was not one report of election-related violence. On the contrary, I ended up shedding more blood inside the hired Xylo in broad daylight – smashing king size mosquitoes against the formidable window panes or crushing them on the rear seat upholstery that left behind trails of not-so-sanguine blood.

And as night-time advances, the mofussil stores glow with incandescent LED blubs, the hotel air-conditioners whirr through the night. In Bihar’s villages and small towns, the oil lamps have stopped flickering as more and more households enjoy at least 12-18, if not 24, hours of uninterrupted power supply. And this is what has made a difference in the lives of people.

Electricity supply is empowering: cable television dish antennas that sprout from rooftops or at doorways brings in information, easy mobile charging helps communicate and kids stay up late to memorise their lessons for school next day. In Bihar, continuous power supply helps in decision-making.

Continue with Good Work

Back in Bihar’s capital, Patnaites take justifiable pride in the many flyovers that have made the urbanscape more undulating. In the midst of general “development”, Bihar’s capital has also seen a rash of growth – a warren of shops and stores alongside most streets, weed-like high-rises and vehicles belching diesel fume. The sand for the new construction comes from the Sonn river bed in Koilwar in Bhojpur, which remains dry in the autumn months.

Whichever way the results of Bihar’s month-long electoral exercise go tomorrow, the state’s baby steps towards development, paved with people’s hope and aspirations, is unstoppable. The winner on November 8 must continue with the good work.