"Thorns to Competition" amongst the top 10 best sellers of the week.
Central Bihar, once a theatre of bitter caste conflict, has given way to an oasis of peace as the forces that fought for supremacy have been tamed by changing social equations
As the month of November reaches its last leg, autumn is on the wane. In an expanse of spent fields, the only consistent voice is that of jackals. A perfect setting for a rural murder mystery. And me and my photographer friend don't want to play the victim. We want to leave Jahanabad district as soon as possible.
Somewhere down the road, half a dozen-odd flashlights blind our driver and our car comes to a screeching halt. In the dark, we clearly see a few shadows advancing towards us. Is this the end? I ask myself. The mind runs fast. Depending upon which sena (private army) it is, I'll have to preempt and concoct my surname. As the figures draw near, I contemplate. Should I say I am a Sharma or Yadav. Sitting merely ten inches from me, my photographer must be going through the same dilemma, I assume. Any sensible man would. “Where are you coming from?” asks the apparent leader, apparent because of his tone and demeanor. “From Senari,” my voice somehow escapes my throat. A sudden melee ensues. Amid a babel of several central and north Bihar dialects, I finally notice the Gypsy that reads Bihar Police, and relax.
We are asked to get down. Our car is thoroughly searched. Our photographer, clearly insulted by the action of what he insists a “lowly officer”, grumbles. “You are passing from Kurtha and coming from Senari; we need to search,” assures Sub-Inspector Sanjeev Bhushan. Then, almost as an afterthought, he adds, “You people are roaming freely with such costly equipment and have not been mugged or chopped off yet in these region. I think you need to give credit to us.” We leave with my friend nursing his little ego.
Sanjeev epitomises the administrative reforms in the state. He is the reason why Bihar and 'change' are not mutually exclusive words. He is guaranteeing the security of our equipment at a place were merely a decade ago, no one would have guaranteed our life. The place where we were standing had seen uncountable bloodbaths. When the human being turns into a number, guarantees cease to exist.
Let's make a detour. Wind the time machine. This is March 18, 1999, and we are standing in the same Senari village whose mere mention had elicited a thorough search of our vehicle just minutes ago. It is seven in the evening. After completion of a year in office, Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee has just concluded his address to the nation. People were discussing the natty-gritty of the speech as a group of men wearing police uniform barge in. They are apparently looking for some of the recruits of 'Ranvir Sena', a private army that claims to protect the interests of the upper caste Bhumihar community. The men in uniform ask villagers to gather at the primary school building just outside the settlement. They are also told that the SP himself has come to take the identification parade.
Unaware of the impending danger, people of all castes gather at the building. Suddenly scores of Naxals emerge from the adjoining fields and encircle the villagers. They ask everyone except Bhumihars to leave. They are tied up by their hands and feet as the 'rippers' swing into action. Suresh Sharma, 26, first sees one of his uncles and a cousin being ripped at the throat and later the abdomen. Suresh sees a burst of blood and faints. He regains consciousness briefly when a sharp weapon touches his throat and a warm stream of his own blood drenches his face. He passes out again.
A good 75 hour later when he regain consciousness at Gaya Medical College, two of his uncles, five cousins, two nephews and 34 other villagers have already been cremated. Suresh recalls, “I was unable to decide whether to celebrate my life or mourn the deaths of family members. A few days later, when I could move, every villager I saw had his head shaven. Everyone had lost a relative.”
After ripping his throat, the Naxals ripped open Suresh's abdomen as well and left him for dead. He was somehow saved. The macabre dance of death played out for two hours. But a lot of people managed to survive.
A few kilometers away is Mianpur. This village witnessed another massacre. This time by Bhumihars on June 16, 2000. In the indiscriminate firing, 35 bodies of Dalits and backwards fell, many of them women and children. Senari and Mianpur were but numbers in the scores of massacres that became routine in central Bihar.
It all started in the 1980s. A mix of private armies and Naxal outfits came into being. Sunlight Sena, Lorik Sena, Ranvir Sena, PWG and MCC became custodians of their respective caste groups. The caste wars were a fight for dominance in the region. It was a free for all. It was difficult to tell who was pitted against whom.
For example, in Patna district, backward classes like Yadavs and Kurmis were taking on Paswans, Musahars and other Dalits (in 1977, at Belchi, the OBC private army killed 14 Dalits). In adjoining Jahanabad, Yadavs were fighting with Bhumihars (in 1980, at Parasbigha, Bhumihar goons killed 14 Yadavs whereas the Yadavs retaliated with killings in Dohia). In fact, in Jahanabad and adjoining Aurangabad, the fight had upper castes, OBCs and Dalits gunning for each other (in 1987, at Dalel Chak Baghaura, OBC goons killed 52 Rajputs whereas at Nonhi Nagwan in 1989, Yadavs slayed 18 Kurmis and Dalits). Even in Bhojpur, the heartland of the Ranvir Sena, the pattern was the same. Every caste was at the receiving end and every caste had perpetrators.
The rationale behind the massacres were both social and economic. To understand this, one needs to understand the social hierarchy of a typical Bihar village. The three tier set-up had Bhumihars, Rajputs and Brahmins on top. The middle-rung castes, or the backwards, primarily consisted of artisans such as Luhars (ironsmiths), Kumhars (potters), Nais (barbers), badhais (carpenters) and others. At the lowest rung were agrarian labourer castes such as Musahars, Dusadhs, Tatmas and sometimes Jatavs.
Agriculture was a binding factor among these three strata. But the advent of machinery and new techniques led to less dependency on labour intensive activities. This led to massive migration among the second and third categories. While the dependency of upper castes on artisans and labourers decreased, the inflow of money from cities made these two categories a bit more financially independent. Now these castes were no more completely dependent on agriculture and allied activities. But the group that bore the brunt were Yadavs, Kurmis and Koeris. These intermediary castes were agrarian in nature but were not landowners as such. They did share-cropping and thus depended both on the upper castes and the labourers.
The system was in place and the labourer castes maintained the hierarchy. While Brahmins were venerated, Bhumihars and Rajputs continued to dominate because of money and muscle power. But even this arrangement was fast approaching its expiry date. Needless to say, upper castes indulged in unspeakable atrocities and harassment. But their economic status was diminishing because of overall fall in income from agriculture and allied activities. Whereas backward castes had grown financially sound. The gap had diminished. Tensions boiled over.
“The people who suffered the most from caste violence were agrarian labourers. They were not in a position to counter the dominance of the upper castes, or the backward castes, and never attempted to disturb the arrangement. However, they were targetted by both. Backward castes and Naxals used agrarian labourers, mostly Dusadhs and Musahars, as shields in their fight against the upper castes,” explains Prof Ramakant Thakur, a keen watcher of caste violence and dynamism in Bihar.
But things have changed. No major massacre has occurred since the Mianpur incident of 2000. But what has changed?
The fight was between upper castes and backwards. The latter used Dalits to attack the former by disturbing the social arrangement and exploiting the Dalit anger against the upper castes. However, the emboldened and financially independent backward castes started dominating and harassing Dalits. This did not go down well with Dalits and they started leaving the rank and file. It sapped the blood and iron out of the movement. On the other hand, private armies were mostly individual-centric and thus lost their bearings when their respective leaders were either arrested or gunned down.
“The major factor with Dalits was their aspiration to climb the social hierarchy, and that was achieved with economic independence. It took the steam out of the movement. And, ironically, migration was a moderating factor as youngsters started leaving state in droves,” concludes Thakur. Yadavs got new opportunity in contracts and other businesses thanks to the Lalu-Rabri regime and lost their motivation too. However, the biggest boost to the process was that fewer politicians were willing to side with one group or another. All's well that ends well.
For More IIPM Info, Visit below mentioned IIPM articles.
IIPM ranks No 1 in International Exposure in the 'Third Mail Today B-School Survey'
Management Guru Arindam Chaudhuri Dean Business School IIPM
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Kapil Sibal’s voters want Jan Lokpal, not Government-proposed Lokpal Bill
IIPM: What is E-PAT?
IIPM RANKED NO.1 in MAIL TODAY B-SCHOOL RANKINGS
'Thorns to Competition' - You can order your copy online from here
IIPM, GURGAON
Central Bihar, once a theatre of bitter caste conflict, has given way to an oasis of peace as the forces that fought for supremacy have been tamed by changing social equations
As the month of November reaches its last leg, autumn is on the wane. In an expanse of spent fields, the only consistent voice is that of jackals. A perfect setting for a rural murder mystery. And me and my photographer friend don't want to play the victim. We want to leave Jahanabad district as soon as possible.
Somewhere down the road, half a dozen-odd flashlights blind our driver and our car comes to a screeching halt. In the dark, we clearly see a few shadows advancing towards us. Is this the end? I ask myself. The mind runs fast. Depending upon which sena (private army) it is, I'll have to preempt and concoct my surname. As the figures draw near, I contemplate. Should I say I am a Sharma or Yadav. Sitting merely ten inches from me, my photographer must be going through the same dilemma, I assume. Any sensible man would. “Where are you coming from?” asks the apparent leader, apparent because of his tone and demeanor. “From Senari,” my voice somehow escapes my throat. A sudden melee ensues. Amid a babel of several central and north Bihar dialects, I finally notice the Gypsy that reads Bihar Police, and relax.
We are asked to get down. Our car is thoroughly searched. Our photographer, clearly insulted by the action of what he insists a “lowly officer”, grumbles. “You are passing from Kurtha and coming from Senari; we need to search,” assures Sub-Inspector Sanjeev Bhushan. Then, almost as an afterthought, he adds, “You people are roaming freely with such costly equipment and have not been mugged or chopped off yet in these region. I think you need to give credit to us.” We leave with my friend nursing his little ego.
Sanjeev epitomises the administrative reforms in the state. He is the reason why Bihar and 'change' are not mutually exclusive words. He is guaranteeing the security of our equipment at a place were merely a decade ago, no one would have guaranteed our life. The place where we were standing had seen uncountable bloodbaths. When the human being turns into a number, guarantees cease to exist.
Let's make a detour. Wind the time machine. This is March 18, 1999, and we are standing in the same Senari village whose mere mention had elicited a thorough search of our vehicle just minutes ago. It is seven in the evening. After completion of a year in office, Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee has just concluded his address to the nation. People were discussing the natty-gritty of the speech as a group of men wearing police uniform barge in. They are apparently looking for some of the recruits of 'Ranvir Sena', a private army that claims to protect the interests of the upper caste Bhumihar community. The men in uniform ask villagers to gather at the primary school building just outside the settlement. They are also told that the SP himself has come to take the identification parade.
Unaware of the impending danger, people of all castes gather at the building. Suddenly scores of Naxals emerge from the adjoining fields and encircle the villagers. They ask everyone except Bhumihars to leave. They are tied up by their hands and feet as the 'rippers' swing into action. Suresh Sharma, 26, first sees one of his uncles and a cousin being ripped at the throat and later the abdomen. Suresh sees a burst of blood and faints. He regains consciousness briefly when a sharp weapon touches his throat and a warm stream of his own blood drenches his face. He passes out again.
A good 75 hour later when he regain consciousness at Gaya Medical College, two of his uncles, five cousins, two nephews and 34 other villagers have already been cremated. Suresh recalls, “I was unable to decide whether to celebrate my life or mourn the deaths of family members. A few days later, when I could move, every villager I saw had his head shaven. Everyone had lost a relative.”
After ripping his throat, the Naxals ripped open Suresh's abdomen as well and left him for dead. He was somehow saved. The macabre dance of death played out for two hours. But a lot of people managed to survive.
A few kilometers away is Mianpur. This village witnessed another massacre. This time by Bhumihars on June 16, 2000. In the indiscriminate firing, 35 bodies of Dalits and backwards fell, many of them women and children. Senari and Mianpur were but numbers in the scores of massacres that became routine in central Bihar.
It all started in the 1980s. A mix of private armies and Naxal outfits came into being. Sunlight Sena, Lorik Sena, Ranvir Sena, PWG and MCC became custodians of their respective caste groups. The caste wars were a fight for dominance in the region. It was a free for all. It was difficult to tell who was pitted against whom.
For example, in Patna district, backward classes like Yadavs and Kurmis were taking on Paswans, Musahars and other Dalits (in 1977, at Belchi, the OBC private army killed 14 Dalits). In adjoining Jahanabad, Yadavs were fighting with Bhumihars (in 1980, at Parasbigha, Bhumihar goons killed 14 Yadavs whereas the Yadavs retaliated with killings in Dohia). In fact, in Jahanabad and adjoining Aurangabad, the fight had upper castes, OBCs and Dalits gunning for each other (in 1987, at Dalel Chak Baghaura, OBC goons killed 52 Rajputs whereas at Nonhi Nagwan in 1989, Yadavs slayed 18 Kurmis and Dalits). Even in Bhojpur, the heartland of the Ranvir Sena, the pattern was the same. Every caste was at the receiving end and every caste had perpetrators.
The rationale behind the massacres were both social and economic. To understand this, one needs to understand the social hierarchy of a typical Bihar village. The three tier set-up had Bhumihars, Rajputs and Brahmins on top. The middle-rung castes, or the backwards, primarily consisted of artisans such as Luhars (ironsmiths), Kumhars (potters), Nais (barbers), badhais (carpenters) and others. At the lowest rung were agrarian labourer castes such as Musahars, Dusadhs, Tatmas and sometimes Jatavs.
Agriculture was a binding factor among these three strata. But the advent of machinery and new techniques led to less dependency on labour intensive activities. This led to massive migration among the second and third categories. While the dependency of upper castes on artisans and labourers decreased, the inflow of money from cities made these two categories a bit more financially independent. Now these castes were no more completely dependent on agriculture and allied activities. But the group that bore the brunt were Yadavs, Kurmis and Koeris. These intermediary castes were agrarian in nature but were not landowners as such. They did share-cropping and thus depended both on the upper castes and the labourers.
The system was in place and the labourer castes maintained the hierarchy. While Brahmins were venerated, Bhumihars and Rajputs continued to dominate because of money and muscle power. But even this arrangement was fast approaching its expiry date. Needless to say, upper castes indulged in unspeakable atrocities and harassment. But their economic status was diminishing because of overall fall in income from agriculture and allied activities. Whereas backward castes had grown financially sound. The gap had diminished. Tensions boiled over.
“The people who suffered the most from caste violence were agrarian labourers. They were not in a position to counter the dominance of the upper castes, or the backward castes, and never attempted to disturb the arrangement. However, they were targetted by both. Backward castes and Naxals used agrarian labourers, mostly Dusadhs and Musahars, as shields in their fight against the upper castes,” explains Prof Ramakant Thakur, a keen watcher of caste violence and dynamism in Bihar.
But things have changed. No major massacre has occurred since the Mianpur incident of 2000. But what has changed?
The fight was between upper castes and backwards. The latter used Dalits to attack the former by disturbing the social arrangement and exploiting the Dalit anger against the upper castes. However, the emboldened and financially independent backward castes started dominating and harassing Dalits. This did not go down well with Dalits and they started leaving the rank and file. It sapped the blood and iron out of the movement. On the other hand, private armies were mostly individual-centric and thus lost their bearings when their respective leaders were either arrested or gunned down.
“The major factor with Dalits was their aspiration to climb the social hierarchy, and that was achieved with economic independence. It took the steam out of the movement. And, ironically, migration was a moderating factor as youngsters started leaving state in droves,” concludes Thakur. Yadavs got new opportunity in contracts and other businesses thanks to the Lalu-Rabri regime and lost their motivation too. However, the biggest boost to the process was that fewer politicians were willing to side with one group or another. All's well that ends well.
For More IIPM Info, Visit below mentioned IIPM articles.
IIPM ranks No 1 in International Exposure in the 'Third Mail Today B-School Survey'
Management Guru Arindam Chaudhuri Dean Business School IIPM
IIPM Excom Prof Rajita Chaudhuri
Kapil Sibal’s voters want Jan Lokpal, not Government-proposed Lokpal Bill
IIPM: What is E-PAT?
IIPM RANKED NO.1 in MAIL TODAY B-SCHOOL RANKINGS
'Thorns to Competition' - You can order your copy online from here
IIPM, GURGAON
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