Dashrath Manjhi’s new house has a visitor. A surprise political visitor. Not the one you would have expected if you knew the prequel to this story. But it’s the sequel that can contain clues to the difference between India’s two national parties. Yes, the man who moved mountains in life can move politics even in death—though not as much as he would have liked.
Who’s Dashrath Manjhi? For those who somehow missed out, he’s the man who cut through a mountain all on his own, with a hammer and chisel, over 22 years.
His wife had died because medical care was 70 km away by road, though just over the mountain in reality. He swore that such a fate should never befall anyone again. And kept his word. Town is now just a kilometre away from his Gehlaur village.
He was feted belatedly as the ‘Mountain Man’, a postage stamp was issued in his name, films were made about his life—a documentary, a Hindi movie, even a couple of Kannada films.
But the destitution had not changed. When Dashrath died, in 2007, home was still a thatched-roof hut. The lot of many among his ‘Mahadalit’ community of Musahars, and millions of others in Bihar.
Then came Rahul Gandhi. It was revealed a few months ago that the Congress leader had quietly — without any fanfare or publicity, without even being asked — sponsored a five-room pucca house for the Manjhi family. Media briefly hailed the Good Samaritan act, then forgot all about it.
Bihar had much more compelling business to attend to. There was the SIR, Rahul’s own yatra in the run-up to a hotly contested assembly election.
A sidelight there was that Rahul had come visiting Gehlaur again. Bhagirath Manjhi, Dashrath’s sixty-something son, was the one who had invited him for his first visit. That time Bhagirath had not asked for any favour. This time he did. He wanted a Congress ticket to contest the election. Rahul assured him one.
It made eminent sense too. The Congress was now speaking up for Dalit rights with a new force. What better way to illustrate it than to have Dashrath’s son contesting under its flag?
Come candidate selection time, Bhagirath went to Delhi, camped for four days. What came next was the usual Congress self-goal. Party apparatchiks denied him a ticket.
When we visit Gehlaur, along the road that Dashrath built, this new pucca house — as we said — has a visitor. It’s an “MLA from Chhattisgarh”. Some tangible discomfort at encountering us, and a hasty exit ensued.
Bihar polls essentially a ‘local’ wrestling match
We could not confirm who it was, but it was a BJP politician, touching base, trying earnestly to swing Bhagirath towards their side.
Whether it eventually meets with success or not is beside the point. It shows the difference in approach: casual on one side, and utmost diligence on the other. Not an inch that can be harvested is left barren.
This little story unfolding in a remote corner of Gaya may remain a political aside. Bihar holds the unique distinction of being the only major Indian state besides Tamil Nadu to not be directly ruled by a national party for decades. (Not counting post-division Andhra Pradesh, pre-diminution J&K and West Bengal, where the Left at least used to be a national force at the time.)
The buzz among seasoned observers, after the bumper turnout in the first phase of voting on November 6, is that Bihar has stayed true to that form. That this is essentially a ‘local’ wrestling match, with the national parties being dominated once again by regional ones.
Whether that analysis stays intact or not in the final analysis is a different matter. That is subject to how the second phase of polling goes in eastern Seemanchal, due to vote on Tuesday. But within that larger picture, if a tiny part of the mountain moves, do not be surprised if the BJP plays it up.
It takes a hammer and a chisel and one piece of rock at a time.