Bihar is the cradle of Indias post-1975 politics. The JP movement that provoked the Emergency and started the process of the Congress partys decline, which now seems rather more dramatic than ever imagined, began here. Everybody not only knows politics here but also loves it. In a state where nothing worked for six decades and where per capita incomes are less than a fourth of that of Indias richest states, nothing catches peoples imagination more than politics. Or paaltiks, as a pucca Bihari would say. Like Lalu Prasad. Quoted verbatim: Bihar is not like the other states. Bihari peepulz do not accept anything silently. They are very paaltikal. They have a view on everything and all matters. You need someone with much greater scholarship than I to explain this. Or maybe even a soil scientist. There must be something in this soil on the two banks of the Ganga and spread across its many and usually less benign tributaries, which helps politics and statecraft thrive. With Buddha and Mahavira, the Gupta and Maurya dynasties, Chanakya and the empires of Magadh, Vaishali, the ancient metro of Patliputra and the University of Nalanda, Bihar punches way above its weight nationally. It is also as much the home of heartland politics as the primary pathshala of the political reporter.
No surprise, therefore, that this is where this metaphor, Writings on the Wall, under which these dispatches are strung together, emerged in the course of one of our groups the self-styled Limousine Liberals earlier travels. The idea that, if you wished to know what was going on in a part of India, what was changing, what wasnt, how, why and what next, you had to read what was written on the walls. You just have to keep a sharp eye, an open mind and your usual reporters curiosity. Because sometimes, it is the absence of any writings, even the walls, that tells you a story, as it did in 2003 a story of beleaguered hopelessness, an economy of pure subsistence and tiny money order remittances, caste, grievance, indeed grievances of the past. Then, the first writings appeared, though not on the walls, as most of the countryside was still thatched in 2004. The first writings appeared on tiny boards nailed to trees selling English-medium private schooling. This was the cue for a new aspirational surge. Now you know how we sniffed it