In kidnapping heartland, a break

This is Nautan constituency adjoining Bettiah town in West Champaran, the heart of Bihar’s kidnapping industry. It is about 7 to 8 hours by road from Kishlay’s Patna. Here, Mahto’s prime adversary in the electoral fray is Amar Yadav, son of Bhangar Yadav aka Babua, one of the notorious dacoits at large in this area.

Amar Yadav is currently chairman of the zilla parishad; he is on bail on a series of criminal charges that include murder and he recently joined the RJD.

According to Bettiah SP M.R. Nayak, there are, on an average, five kidnappings in his area per month. But election time is generally incident-free. Why? ‘‘Because kidnappers and criminals are busy with elections,’’ he answers matter-of-factly.

In Bettiah town, at Hotel Kishen, owner Krishan Lal Arora tells us why elections don’t interest him anymore. Arora was kidnapped on April 19, 1987 and released on May 13. He says the operation was carried out jointly by three gangs, including that of Basudeo Yadav, nicknamed Tiwari, known in this area as the ‘Bhishma Pitamah’ of dacoits.

‘‘The kidnapping industry has grown and spread since I was abducted. Then, politicians harboured criminal gangs for boothcapturing etc. Now, they themselves are the candidates. There is no party that will deny them a ticket,’’ he says.

In the days when Arora was kidnapped, the ransom used to be a princely sum, the targets were wealthy. In November 1981, the district and sessions judge, in an order on the bail plea in the Shyam Lal Sah Vs State, had observed: ‘‘There appears to be a parallel government run by Sattan and Lachhan and Rudal. They are realising ransom easily from all the persons who matter including rich cultivators, contractors, businessmen and even sugar mill managements.’’

In the last decade or so, the sugar mills have mostly closed down in West Champaran, so have the leather industry in Bettiah, the plywood factory in Lauria, rice mill in Chanpatia, jute and paper mills in Bagha. Now, they say, the ransom can be as meagre as 10 ‘‘Chand chhap’’ lungis (a brand of fine quality cotton), and/or some torches to help the dacoits find their way in the dark.

It’s not just the mills that have shut. Functional schools are difficult to find. According to official figures, 39.63 per cent of the district is literate. But statistics can be deceptive in a district where less than half of the 601 teachers posts have been vacant, says Pankaj, veteran social activist, working in the area of education. In many places, teachers have fled schools after kidnappers started targeting teachers for their provident funds—those vacancies have been filled up by untrained teachers hired on contract.

In Mohiuddin Nagar, a village by the edge of the dirt track that connects Bettiah to Nautan, they’re not even waiting for an improvement in the socio-economic indices, or the outcome of elections. Residents of this village, among many others, have formed a self-defence committee. They call it the Gram Raksha Dal, for the protection of ‘‘kheti aur beti.’’ The men go to work during the day; they patrol the village by night. Arms are easy to come by, no licences required, says Hari Gaddi, a Bettiah advocate who is part of such a committee.

And as for elections on February 23, it’s just another day for them. In any case, the women and the old don’t vote as the booth is 4 km away.

‘‘We’ll vote if we can make it to the booth that day,’’ the men shrug.