By Amitabh Ranjan
Crime is read. So is politics. Mix the two, and you have a heady cocktail. Here is a story about Bihar, which has both in ample measure. The miasma of dirty politics, crimes, caste wars and corruption has been its bane. There is hardly a metaphor referring to misrule more enduring than ‘Jungle Raj’, alluding to the 15 long years between 1990 and 2005 that saw the nadir of crime-politics nexus and a deliberate under-governance in the state.
Mrityunjay Sharma’s Broken Promises: Caste, Crime and Politics in Bihar focuses on that Lalu Prasad-Rabri Devi era of one-and-a-half decade but at the same time chronicles many a landmark event in the state’s existence since independence. Running into seven sections, the book takes the reader through the decimation of the Congress party; the rise of socialist politics; the JP-led Sampoorna Kranti taking on Indira Gandhi; the coming of age of young leaders; the political power-play and opportunism; the worst form of caste and class violence; the rise and rise of the RJD supremo before the big fall; the Mandal versus Kamandal; and the coming of Nitish Kumar as the longest serving chief minister.
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If those 15 years saw the worst, it was in the making for long. Deeply feudal, Bihar’s society remained stratified not only in economic but also in social and political terms post-independence. The land reforms movements which began before independence fizzled out by 1950. A disproportionate authority wielded by a few privileged castes in the vast agrarian hinterland meant that for multitudes—farmers, tillers and menial workers—an informal bondage was the only way to survival. Personal freedom and dignity would remain a chimera. In the urban space, the power corridors would be even more out of bounds for a huge number who fell on the wrong side of the caste divide.
Discontent was simmering. The marginalised awaited a messiah who would pull them out of the morass. In Lalu Prasad, they found one. Or, so they thought. He played the Pied Piper, building around him a trademark rustic political persona, denigrating the upper castes and selling dignity to the deprived.
Lalu on his part was too astute to believe that the upper castes would easily cede power to him. So, to hold onto his vote bank, he built his rule with a ‘conflict approach’, of which noise, mayhem and chaos would be the by-products. Crime became the most potent tool of power, governance was driven by affiliation to a particular caste, and corruption had endorsement from the top echelons. The outcome: development was never on the agenda. With any real empowerment of the masses being a far cry, Lalu’s invincible armour would start showing chinks. The revelation of the fodder scam would slowly but surely see Lalu on the mat by 2005.
Nitish Kumar, who like Lalu had cut his teeth in politics under the guidance of socialist stalwart Jayprakash Narayan, in 2005 inherited a state not only with the worst economic and human development parameters but also with an administration marred by a corrupt and resigned bureaucracy. It goes to Nitish’s credit that he brought the state back from the brink, carefully prioritising his men and policies. Nitish has seen his ups and downs. But he has mastered the art of political survival in shifting caste equations of electoral politics. Though his good works are often acknowledged, he has also earned the epithet ‘Paltu Ram’ (person who will change his company at the drop of a hat).
That in a nutshell is the story Mrityunjay Sharma tells.
There is no dearth of literature on the politics of Bihar, its crime syndicates, its Bahubalis, or the scams and scandals that visit the state at regular intervals. His is, however, a holistic account of what ails the state whose historical and cultural legacy has been formidable. An engineering graduate, an MBA and a first-generation entrepreneur, his provocation to write the book comes from the memories of his young days that he mentions in his preface.
A minor irritant that the reader may encounter is in terms of the use of language. The book merited a more rigorous proof-reading. There are a couple of factual slips too, for example, where it refers to Lalganj as the headquarters town of Vaishali district.
Bihar is never casual about politics. With the general election in progress, it stands at a crossroads. There will be another next year. The turn Bihar takes will have national repercussions. As the fingers remain crossed, it is the right time to pick Sharma’s riveting accounts and get intimate with Bihar and its politics.
(Amitabh Ranjan is a former journalist who teaches at Patna Women’s College. Views expressed are personal)