My People .. Our, Bihar

I write so that it reaches people.

Santu’s (my man friday) calls to his family in Dhadphadi, Muzaffarpur, Bihar keep me rooted. His daughter’s joy at getting an account for herself through the school and her shy plea to me to put some money in it. His son cutting tuition classes, so painfully managed from here, and Santu’s lingering disappointment in the fact that his daughter and not his son may reap it’s benefits. His fear that if he vocally says something to the effect, he will get his head chopped off by me. News filtering in of evil spirits and how some families in the village have been cursed as the rains become more manic. The many layers of belief that have nothing to do with God or Faith. Just fear. The vacillating anger with the government as personal langars by village henchmen, during these floods, ensure loyalty to anti social elements.

I listen in to most of his calls because I am usually tinkering about in the kitchen. I hear him explaining to his family what I explain to him. Of development and progress and mind over matter. Then, when he puts the phone down, he struggles with these thoughts himself. Its difficult feeling liberated when your family and society battle so much everyday.

As usual, Bihar burns and floods in equal measure, with no respite. Patients are dying outside hospitals. With absolutely zero planning around a global pandemic that has hit for the first time and, a natural calamity that comes scheduled year on year.

The population of Bihar is around 125 million or 12.5 crore, and the tests-per-million figure was 2,637 on 16 July, the lowest in the country. These floods spin off crores, for people and industries that have vested interest in keeping them unresolved.

At the root of it all is a society that is both Bharat and India in every breath it takes. The fuel we provide to other states through our migrant force (Not Labour) ensures that every family is living with both feet planted in different worlds.

I write so that it reaches people.