What drove women to the polling booths in large numbers during elections in Bihar? Perhaps the reservation of panchayat seats for women did the trick, writes Uddalak Mukherjee after visiting Patna and Hajipur
New voice
Women voters outnumbered men in nine out of the 38 districts in this year’s assembly elections in Bihar. In these nine districts — Sitamarhi, Madhubani, Supaul, Madhepura, Darbhanga, Gopalganj, Siwan, Begusarai and Khagaria — the turnout of women voters, according to figures released by the Election Commission, was over 60 per cent. Overall, 54.85 per cent of the women cast their votes in the elections, as opposed to 50.70 per cent of the men.
Given Bihar’s social and economic backwardness, and its long feudal history, the increase in the number of women voters was a significant development. Recently, I travelled to Patna and neighbouring Hajipur to examine what had stirred women in such large numbers to exercise their democratic right. Three reasons were being cited by analysts to explain the phenomenon — the decline in the number of crimes against women, the corresponding rise in employment opportunities and social security and the decision to reserve 50 per cent seats for women in panchayat bodies.
However, upon looking more closely, the first two factors seemed unconvincing. Police records show that Bihar has witnessed a steady rise in crimes against women since 2005 — a 10 per cent increase in 2006, 20 per cent in 2008, and, according to the state crime bureau, a total of 6,989 cases of atrocities against women have been recorded till October 2010. What I found confounding was that despite the dismal figures, most of the women I met in Patna — students, employees, housewives and even an elected member of the legislative assembly — said that they felt safer than before. Poonam Singh, a Janata Dal (United) MLA, assured me that young women travelling unaccompanied on the streets of Patna after dark was no longer an uncommon sight. (She also expressed concern for Bima Bharti, the legislator from Purnia, who had been admitted to a hospital in Patna after being grievously assaulted by her husband just a few days earlier.) Later, a group of young women, who sat chatting in a garishly painted coffee shop near Gandhi Maidan, echoed Singh’s views. The discrepancy between their assurances and the alarming crime record only confirmed my suspicion that the situation had indeed been much worse earlier. But could such a marginal improvement prove to be decisive enough for the women to flock to the booths?
Bihar’s performance in generating employment for women remains sketchy as well. A recent report by the Associated Chambers of Commerce and Industry of India revealed that of the total number of women labourers who migrate to Delhi, 32 per cent hails from Bihar. The data clearly indicate that the continuing paucity of jobs is forcing women, especially those from rural areas, to leave the state. Five-year-old data related to women’s participation in the labour market are as dismal: 13.8 per cent and 6.5 per cent in villages and cities respectively. Only 0.2 per cent of women held a diploma then. I was told that some of the government’s welfare measures for women — such as the formation of self-help groups and the distribution of uniforms and cycles to girl students — had proved to be popular, but Bihar still has a long way to go before it empowers its women socially and economically. It is improbable that Bihar’s women voters had forgotten the stark realities before the elections. Yet they had come out in large numbers and returned Nitish Kumar to power with a thumping majority. Why?
Perhaps Kumar’s pioneering decision to reserve 50 per cent of the seats inpanchayats in 2006 had proved to be the determining factor. To find out whether the reservation of seats in local bodies had indeed led to a nascent sense of political empowerment of women, a colleague and I decided to travel to Mandai-di, a village in Hajipur district, approximately 80 kilometres from Patna, late one evening to meet a mukhiya, a woman named Lalita Devi, who had contested and won the panchayat elections. On our way, over roads mauled by unceasing traffic, past an imposing bridge across a seemingly endless river, I reflected on the uniqueness of the panchayat model followed in Bihar.
Unlike in Bengal, Bihar’s political parties do not contest panchayat polls. Individual contestants in the fray are issued separate electoral symbols by the state EC. I was eager to know whether such a model, shorn of the trappings of debilitating politics, had succeeded in empowering Bihar’s women politically.
The initial signs were far from encouraging. We stopped at the mouth of Mandai-di to ask for directions to Lalita’s house. It was bitterly cold, there was no electricity, and the village lay enveloped in darkness. A few men, huddled in front of a crackling fire, swore that the mukhiya was not a woman, but a man by the name of Upinder, who, we discovered later, was Lalita’s husband. Somehow, we managed to reach our destination, after which Lalita served us delicious tea. But she herself stepped out of the room for the interview only upon her husband’s return.
Lalita, who looked to be in her early thirties, was indeed the mukhiya of Mandai-di. She was not unlettered, having studied till matriculation. She had two children — two little boys who watched the proceedings with interest from one of the rooms — and her life had changed considerably after she was elected. She remembers clearly how nervous she had been to step out of her home and preside over meetings to address the village’s problems. Earlier, Upinder used to accompany her to the meetings with villagers and officials, and she followed all his instructions carefully on such occasions. But, four years into the job, things have changed. Lalita still feels a little tense before such meetings, but she often attends them without Upinder in tow. Her knowledge of the problems that confront Mandai-di — the perpetual shortage of water, the lack of concrete roads, the absence of electricity and so on — has improved considerably, and she has begun to analyse the problems and offer solutions without depending on Upinder’s advice. Lalita admitted that she enjoys her responsibilities and the respect that she has earned from other villagers after becoming a mukhiya.
On hearing our voices, Lalita’s father-in-law, an ancient creature with a furrowed forehead, stepped on to the porch. Immediately, Lalita stood up, offered her seat to the old man and pulled the end of her sari over her forehead. But she continued to answer my questions in a slightly lowered voice. The old man, after being thoroughly ignored by the visitors and thebahu, left in a while, and Lalita quietly took her seat again. All this while, Upinder continued to nod, smile and gaze proudly at his wife. When Lalita went inside to fetch another cup of tea, a young man, perhaps Lalita’s relative, admitted sheepishly that he felt strange, and even angry, given the changes that were taking place.
Lalita’s initial confusion and terror after winning the election are understandable. Bihar has famously had a woman chief minister who, it is said, was dragged to the oath-taking ceremony by her husband, who paid no attention to her meek protests and tears. A report published by the Independent Commission for People’s Rights & Development, three years ago, stated that only 7.5 per cent of Bihar’s women headed their own households, 16 and 15 per cent of women did not need permission to go to the market and visit friends, respectively, 42.6 per cent of women had a say in health decisions while 66.1 per cent of the state’s women had access to cash. The reservation of panchayat seats may not have radically changed the world outside, but it has certainly transformed the inner lives of Bihar’s women, restoring in them a sense of confidence and respect. Could it be that this renewed sense of self-worth and purpose, brought about by a political act — that of reservation — has inspired these women to participate in that critical democratic exercise called elections?
As the night lengthened outside, Lalita eagerly discussed her future. She is certain that she will contest the next panchayat elections, which are scheduled for next year, and appeared unwavering in her support for the present political dispensation, which has created conditions that are conducive to her first political engagement. She also demonstrated an eagerness to improve her understanding of matters related to government policy, panchayat funds, and laws concerning development. But what was most evident was her commitment towards her responsibility and to the people who had elected her to the post that she now holds.
My conversations in Mandai-di opened up two intriguing questions. First, I began to wonder whether political empowerment should be interpreted in quantifiable terms only. Of the 243 legislators in the Bihar Vidhan Sabha, only 34 are women. But the handful of women MLAs does not represent the subtle, though promising, political awakening that seems to be taking place in women in Bihar’s villages. After providing these women with the necessary impetus to vote, it is now this government’s duty to fulfil their demands and safeguard their blossoming interest in and engagement with the political process.
But if this fledgling process is to succeed, the government has to undertake three other simultaneous measures urgently. It has to bring education to Bihar’s women to enable them to make informed political choices. The literacy rate of women, as recorded by the last census, was a woeful 33.57 per cent. The drop-out rate among girl students in the age-group of 11-14 is a staggering 80 per cent, says another independent report. Second, the women who have been elected to the local bodies need to be trained so that they can understand and perform their duties better. Finally, the staunchly patriarchal bureaucracy, which has been resisting the induction of women in village administration, has to be reined in and sensitized.
The other question I pondered was this: is there a case for replicating Bihar’s apolitical panchayat model in other states such as West Bengal? By stripping institutions of local governance of politics, Bihar seems to have strengthened the core components that are integral to democracy: performance, accountability and inclusiveness.
In 2005, Bihar had elected 25 women MLAs; this time round, there are 34. Patipur block, which comprises 158 villages including Mandai-di, has also elected 19 women mukhiyas in the 32 seats that were contested. I could not help feeling that the figures presaged a slow change But does the government have the will to take this process to fruition?
I did gather evidence of another kind of slow resurrection that night in Mandai-di. Despite the late hour, the biting cold and the darkness, a market bustled with the voices of women buying and selling vegetables. Another group of women herded cattle nearby, while a solitary cyclist rode by carrying two milk cans. It was a little past nine in the night, but it felt as if dawn was about to break.
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