Written by
N.R.Mohanty
Last Saturday(sept.22,The Indian Express(New delhi edition) carried a photograph which tells us something about the feudal character of our politics and politicians.The photograph was nothing exceptional: it just showed a Railway Protection Force constable in uniform kneeling down and adjusting the shoes of Railway Minister Lalu Yadav.
Many will ask: what is the big deal about it? Isn’t that a routine sight?
That only suggests how much the feudal culture is a part of our public life. The kings used to rule over the subjects as a ‘divine right’. They treated the state officials as their vassals. Now, the kings are gone; elected representatives rule over us, but they behave as if they are the modern-day kings. For them, the state employees, high or low, are nothing but just but personal attendants.
Lalu Yadav symbolizes this feudal culture. He revels in it. He would not find anything wrong with what was shown in the Express photograph. You ask him about it and it is most likely that you will get a tart reply: “If you want, I can make the RPF DG (Director General) to tie my shoe-laces for a photo-opportunity”.
If you think it is an exaggeration, then you should go through a news item in the Indian Express (Delhi Edition) three weeks ago (Sept. 3, to be precise).Lalu Yadav, while making fun of Nitish Kumar who shifted a DM for not recognizing his voice on phone, told the journalists in the corridors of the Parliament: ” Hum jab CM the to chief secretary se hum khaini chunwate the (when I was the CM, I made the chief secretary prepare tobacco). Aur yahan, Nitish Kumar ko DM poochta hai ki kaun CM!”Can there be a starker manifestation of a feudal mindset?
As a matter of fact, Lalu Yadav’s feudal mannerism is much restrained in the cosmopolitan Delhi where he is presiding over the biggest estate of all, the Railways. When he ruled Magadh (Bihar) with his capital in Pataliputra (Patna), the entire ambience that he created was a virtual throwback to the medieval times.
When I went to Patna as a journalist for the first time in early 1990s, Lalu Yadav had become the toast of the media –as the messiah of social justice. Like all journalists coming to Patna, my first port of call was 1, Anne Marg, the chief minister’s official residence.
I was there at about 10 in the morning. There was a huge crowd waiting there. But the CM was nowhere to be seen. I was told that he was still upstairs, sleeping. Time ticked by, it was 11, then 12, but no sight of him. Finally, he appeared, yawning as hordes of hangers-on rushed to touch his feet.
He settled down in his designated sofa and plonked his feet on a table kept in front of him. Then cups of tea were served; he exchanged pleasantries and shared jokes with the small coterie that surrounded him, while others, the ordinary mortals, looked at the spectacle from a distance.
It went on for more than an hour and then the chief minister went back upstairs for his morning chores. When he would go to office, I asked. Everyone smiled. A journalist friend told me that he attended office rarely, except when some work or meeting could not be held at home for reasons of protocol. The chief minister of a state did not attend office! Did he work from home?
Well, every time I went to the CM’s residence, I found him sitting in his ‘durbar’, with hordes of loyalists surrounding him.
I saw secretaries to the government, senior IAS officers, waiting on the sidelines for their turn to speak to him on official matters.
It was a typical sight where personal and official became indistinguishable. The feudal arrangement ensured that the lord handed over the baton to his homemaker wife Rabri Devi when the CBI arrested him for his involvement in the multi-crore-fodder scam.
There was more to the feudal display — if the wife was the malkin (the owner of the estate), then by extension, the estate belonged to the husband as well. It was hardly surprising that the change of regime (from the husband as CM to the wife as CM) did little difference to the status of the husband. After all, the state of Bihar was a family estate; and everyone who had anything to do with the state had to bow before the mukhiya of the family – Lalu Yadav.
I once saw R K Singh, an efficient and upright IAS officer, who was the home secretary then, come up to Lalu Yadav with the then DGP in tow. He requested a private audience with Lalu saying that there was something important to discuss. Lalu asked him to wait and got back to his durbaris (hangers-on) sharing chutkulas (jokes) with them. There were no vacant chairs and the home secretary and the DGP were virtually left twiddling their thumbs in a corner.
A little later, someone from the personal staff rushed to Lalu saying that the passengers were getting restless as the flight to Delhi was already delayed more than half an hour to enable him to board the plane. Lalu got into the waiting car and left for the airport, leaving the home secretary and the DGP crestfallen.
Mind you, this was when Lalu Yadav was not the chief minister, but the chief minister’s husband. The feudal set-up in Bihar did not need even the token presence of the de jure head of the government when the state officials spoke to the de facto ruler.
In the 15 years that the family held sway over Bihar, (Lalu as CM for six years and Rabri for nine years), Lalu Yadav treated the state officials with such contempt that all self-respecting officers tried to flee the state.
With the change of regime, one hoped, the feudal era would come to an end. As Nitish Kumar is more of a hands-on administrator and handles official task in an impersonal manner, one expected him to make a clean break with the feudal culture that preceded him. But the manner in which he snubbed a district magistrate who did not recognize his voice on the mobile phone — that it was enough ground for his suspension — was unbecoming of him; in fact, it gave a flash of that feudal arrogance which his predecessor invariably
It does not stand to reason that a promoted IAS officer, in his senses, can afford to ignore the call from the chief minister. It was possible there was some disturbance in the network (as it is, the DM was in an interior district where network problems were bound to be there), or it was even possible that there was a lot of noise that drowned the voice on the other side.
It would not have dented the CM’s image had he waited for the DM’s explanation; rather it would have shown him in better light, as a mature administrator. But the manner in which the district magistrate was summarily shifted did not do well to the image of a post-feudal Bihar under Nitish Kumar.