It was anomalous that even while being a ‘son-in-law of Bihar’ for four decades, one had not visited Ara and hence my first trip to this historic mofussil town of the Bhojpur district, was distinctive for many reasons. The election fervour was palpable as one left the airport terminal in Patna and Anne Marg, the leafy avenue which housed Chief Minister Nitish Kumar’s residence symbolised the many electoral permutations and combinations through multiple hoardings and banners, with the photo-shopped visages of the leaders of different political parties and caste groups seeking to woo the astute Bihar voter.
The election dates had been announced and the intense jostling between the Nitish-Lalu-Congress combination on one hand and the BJP led grand coalition on the other dominated the local mood with these two unlikely coalitions seen as the more serious contenders for the CM’s ‘gaddi (seat). The fifty odd kilometers from Patna to Ara – allowed the driver to give us a quick tutorial on the chances of the smaller factions that of the SP (Samajwadi Party) and NCP (National Congress Party) which now formed a third pole and the Left combine. Both would fare poorly, he asserted, adding that his vote would go to fellow Kurmi - Nitishji.
The dusty road from Patna to Ara that wound its way through the Danapur cantonment had its fair share of pot-holes and the helpful driver pointed out that this was actually an improvement from what it was during the ‘jungle raj’ of the previous Chief Minister — Lalu Yadav. The abject poverty and the thatched hovels told their own story of governance that had abdicated while the caste cauldron was cynically manipulated.
Crossing Bihta chowk, a major fork on the way to Ara was a challenge. Vehicles were piled up — bumper to bumper for a mile plus. Two wheelers darted in and out while intrepid tempos filled every possible space.
Ka, route lag-gaya ba?
The Bhojpuri cadence was as endearing as the long wait was irksome. But yes, we did it – our driver raced to the front as soon as the traffic began to move and there we were – all set for Ara with Bihta behind us.
But the Sone river had to be crossed at Koilwar and we were informed that this bridge had been built in 1862 by the angrez — a few years after the 1857 War for Independence wherein Ara had a special resonance. It was a long wait since one lane of the bridge had been closed and over a cup of tea and the ubiquitous litti, one got a glimpse and summary of the activities of the sand barons of Bihar; caste politics; the price of vegetables; lack of employment opportunities; a 101 on Ara and the 1764 Battle of Buxar that was the kernel of the later colonisation of the sub-continent.
Once we crossed the 784 km long Sone river, one of the largest in India — it was a short ride into Ara — the feisty little town that had stood up to the British in 1857. Kunwar Singh the 80 year old zamindar of Jagdishpur kept the ‘angrez’ at bay and his heroic exploits give Ara its special halo. The local ditty : ‘Aara jilla ghar-ba, ta kaun baat kay dar ba’ is pithy and translates loosely as — if Ara district is home, then no issue can cause you fear.
Our local guide meets us near the forlorn church that once received King George V and the stench of urine is a challenge. But we make our way to the Ara Grand Hotel to get a sense of the election fervour and our interlocutors exude a certain certitude with that endearing Bhojpuri lilt. Uday bhayya, Bihar election can go either way but in Ara the BJP will win — for sure. This is ‘upper-caste’ qila (fort).
A compelling caste based demographic analysis was provided that left me dizzy and my feeble question about the Hyderabad leader Owaisi and the Muslim vote was brushed aside. It will make no difference here in Ara — but when I persisted — it was conceded that the MY (Muslim-Yadav) vote block across the state would be split this time in a tangled manner. Yes, anti-incumbency would hobble Nitish-babu but regarding who would be the ultimate winner ‘Arrey kaun janat ba?’
A visit to Ara would be incomplete, our guide insisted, if one did not meet Munna-ji — the town’s most famous tea-seller. A Ph.d in philosophy was the introduction that preceded him and the meeting was cheerful. Politics and philosophy were charmingly leavened in Hinglish as we sipped our tea in clay cups. An intriguing statement remained with me as we bid Ara goodbye and the darkness enveloped us : ‘jab jab jo jo hona hai, tab tab so so hota hai’.
Haiku — or Bhojpuri hauuwa kaa?...rrrrr
(The writer is a leading expert on strategic affairs. He is currently Director, Society for Policy Studies.)
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