From Lanterns To Light

I did not realize that Lalu Yadav was so popular even in Singapore.Recently when I stepped into a room full of Singaporean lawyers, many of themIndians, I was showered with a volley of questions on Lalu: What do you think ofLalu Yadav? Why did he lose the elections? And so on and on it went.

The news of his and his party's defeat in the assembly elections had beenflashed in the Singaporean media. And when they asked about Lalu, naturally theyasked about Bihar also. A newspaper here had called Bihar a 'lawless state' inits report. A little while ago, I was told, they were discussing capitalpunishment in Singapore. The grim subject seemed to jell well with that of Laluand a lawless Bihar.

For outsiders, Bihar means danger and this danger could be a source of funfor some.

They did not know that Lalu initially came to power as a messiah of the lowcaste underclass of Bihar. They did not know that Lalu was instrumental incontaining the communal forces in Bihar at a time when most of India was burningin the fires of communal hatred. What they had heard was of a caricature, abuffoon in India's vast political arena. Furthermore, what they had heard aboutwas that Bihar was the wild east of India, with cows, cowboys with guns, andlooting and kidnapping chieftains.

Not their fault really. Everywhere, the media is quick to highlight spiced-upnegative news. And who has the time to go through the nuances of any commentary?

Even Indians in India look at Bihar in a similar way.

It was not that my Bihari pride was hurt. And I am not a fan of LaluYadav. More than amused, I was left wondering about their curiosity regardingLalu and Bihar. Of course, their interest hinged more on the duo's notorietythan anything else. Lalu's corruption and Bihar's destitution is legendary. Butwhat was interesting, it seemed, was that Lalu and Bihar had given them anopportunity to see a different aspect of an otherwise economically boomingIndia.

Singapore's Minister Mentor Lee Kwan Yew was in India that week and had comeup with an apt homily: 'The first thing Indian politicians must remember is,do not promise something you can't deliver.' The contrast between thesuper-efficient Singapore and a lawless Bihar could not be missed.

This experience was similar to my chance meeting with two Pakistanibusinessmen on a flight from Bangkok to Karachi. They were also curious aboutmany things Indian and when the topic of conversation veered towards Bihar andLalu, they laughed uproariously. They knew all the jokes about Lalu, especiallythe one about Kashmir - about how we would happily hand over all of Kashmir toPakistan, provided they took Bihar as well.

For more than fifteen years, Bihar has borne the brunt of being India'sleading disaster state. Remember the acronym 'Bimaru' (for Bihar, Madhya Pradesh,Rajasthan and Uttar Pradesh)? It has Bihar leading the pack. Lalu, who set offto correct the social imbalances, ended up treating it all as one big joke atthe cost of the exchequer. His family and various cows happily grazed, while thefodder went missing. Development was consciously ignored - why, he was blatantenough to say even on TV that it was not development but caste that people wouldcast their votes.

Under Lalu, Bihar slid farther back into the dark ages. Jehanabaddistrict itself witnessed repeated blood-baths in a circle of violence betweenthe Ranvir Sena and the Naxals. Caste wars and crime became synonymouswith the state. And criminalisation of politics became chronic with the RamaSinghs and Shahabuddins becoming the new political lords.

In school, in the 1970s, we were often asked in our civics classes: Why isBihar so backward despite being so rich in natural resources? Then there was noJharkhand. Now this question is irrelevant, but Bihar has gone from bad toworse. At least there were schools then. Today what exists in the name ofeducation is a sham. This is what an MLA of state had to say: "Today ourschools have walls but no roofs and where there are roofs there are no walls'(sic!). No wonder Bihar's current literacy rate is 48%, far below the nationalaverage.

A state larger than France and five times more populous than Australia hasbeen reduced to a joke. A cruel joke.

The fact of being a Bihari sticks to one's identity like a limpet. Itis used to slot one as a caricature and a stereotype.

When seeking admission in Aligarh Muslim University after matriculation fromBihar in 1990, I was told that my aggregate marks would be treated 10 percentagepoints less, to compensate for any inflation in my marks by the pliable andcorruptible education system in Bihar. Every student was a suspect. Thankfullymy scores were above 80% and I could get admission. When one of my seniors fromUttar Pradesh heard about my percentage, he said with a smirk, 'I would beimpressed if you managed to get even a first division here.' I proved himwrong. I passed all the exams with distinction.

When I came to Jawaharlal Nehru University in Delhi for my postgraduatestudies, I found the Biharis in the lowest rungs of society -- menial workers,teashop boys, servants, auto-wallahs-and the choicest of abuses were reservedfor them. In fact, the term 'Bihari' itself has morphed into an abuse. If youare not slick and smart, and look like a poor village bumpkin, you are a 'Bihari'.I have heard many Delhi bus drivers shout 'Oye Bihari! Move away' (no, notin English, and suffixed invariably by the favourite north Indian invocation ofone's sister and fornication) to pedestrians on the road.

Bihar's backwardness has forced millions of Biharis to seek education andemployment outside of the state. In this process, hundreds of thousands ofBiharis have benefited and done well through sheer grit and determination --they have got into administration, academics and information technology andshined in their fields. Every year, a good number of Biharis crack the IAS andIPS exams or get into professional courses in various universities all overIndia. Biharis today form one of the largest group of skilled manpower in thecountry. Thousands of villages in Bihar can today claim to have their sons anddaughters working abroad, mostly in the gulf countries. At the same time, theweak and the marginalized have become targets of jingoistic politics in variousstates.

From its glorious Ashokan past to its present caste-ridden 'slum of the east'status, Bihar's downward slide has been horrendous. But there is hope. For many,Lalu's defeat has come as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of captivity.Now that Lalu's lantern has been extinguished in Bihar, one hopes that the lightof progress will shine in the state. Let progress ring from every village and mohalla ofBihar. It is a Lutheran call, but will the state's new leadership rise up to theoccasion?

I hope they realize that this is not the time to engage in the luxury ofcelebrating their victory. If they don't fulfill the dreams of the people, thevictory might turn out to be pyrrhic.