Separating green from grey

Bihar has always been described as a paradox: a poor state bequeathed with the richest potential in terms of mines and minerals. From the deepest coal seams of Jharia to that of Barakar near Ranigunj, from glittering mica valleys of Giridih to that of Jhumri Tilaiya, to high grade iron ore mines of Singhbhum, the discovery of which made the Mauryas, the first empire of ancient India, and the Tatas, the numero uno entrepreneur of modern India: tribal Jharkhand is replete with such riches. This naturally rich southern region — comparable to the Ruhr belt of Germany — has today been torn asunder from its poor northern cousin.

In terms of land-man ratio, the partition of Bihar has been extremely unfair. While Jharkhand was allotted more than 40 per cent of the land mass, it has to grapple with less than 20 per cent of the population, 2 crore out of 10 crore. The division of the state has chopped the industrial urban south from the agricultural, rural north. Out of the 31.6 per cent of the urban area, Jharkhand ended up with 21.2 per cent, and Bihar with 10.4 per cent. All the cosmopolitan cities — Ranchi, Jamshedpur, Dhanbad or Bokaro — have been yanked from Bihar, a state left with a few mofussil towns and the capital Patna, a city the only claim to fame of which is its past heritage, as Pataliputra, the glorious capital of the Mauryan empire.

The northern cities of Muzzarfarpur, Bhagalpur and Darbhanga are, at best, mofussil towns with big bazaars of corn and wholesale textiles, and are sprinkled with some cottage industry, and at worst, stinking garbage heaps most of which rot under water for half the year. Other than the Barauni oil refinery, Bihar, today, has no major industry worth the name.

Netarhat, and other prestigious schools such as Sainik school Tilaiya are all now in Jharkhand. With technical institutions such as BIT Sindri and Mesra, RIT Jamshedpur, ISM at Dhanbad going over to the new state, Bihar is only left with some regional technical institutes. No doubt most students of the region used to flock en masse to Delhi and other metros for college education; they will only continue to do so in greater numbers.

The moot question is whether Bihar will continue to fall off the map of India, or does it have a future? While most evidence point towards the former, it is often said that a turnaround only comes after a crisis. The best example is that of the partition of Punjab. While most of the industrialised area went over to the western Punjab, in Pakistan, only the agricultural areas remained in eastern Punjab, in India. The green revolution, however, proved to be a boon. It launched the state into a takeoff without a major industrial revolution.

For Bihar, left only with the richest alluvial deposits in the world and the Ganga as an unending source of water, a green revolution is the only alternative. Its eastward expansion has borne results in the Diara areas: Bhojpur, at one time the crucible of the Naxalite movement today boasts of 3.5 to 4 per cent agricultural growth. It is also one of the most successful districts in terms of expansion of literacy. Can the Bhojpur model be replicated elsewhere? Perhaps. This limited but phenomenal success in agriculture is not only limited to grains: similar is the case with malbhog bananas in Vaishali, litchi in Muzaffarpur and even mangoes in some northern districts. The only constraint is the lack of vision among the political elite, who have gained enormously from economic backwardness.