IT happens so often that the moment one thinks of a Bihari, the figure of a migrant field worker, some poor rickshaw puller, a daily wager – dark and emaciated – springs to mind. Bihari migrants have both flocked to metropolis’s such as Kolkata, Bombay and Delhi and inundated agricultural fields and industrial sites of Punjab and Haryana. One can even find them in the cashew, rubber and coir units of Kerala, in the shops of Manipur, or in the plantations of Assam. Low wages, everyday abuse and frequent violence by chauvinist groups – the MNS and Shiv Sena in Maharashtra, the Khalistani militants in Punjab or Ulfa and various other tribal insurgents of the North East – have rarely deterred them. That the working class migration is both sex selective and seasonal in nature has been widely acknowledged. For proof, one need look no further than the packed compartments of Bihar-bound trains. In the just concluded assembly elections in Bihar, for many analysts, the role of migrants emerged as a subject of heated discussion. The explanation for women voter’s outnumbering men in Bihar rested on male-centric labour migration. Yet, and paradoxically, we were also informed that the Bihari migrant, overwhelmingly male, came back to vote in hoards.

 

But this is only a part of the story, and one hastens to add, a highly erroneous and deliberately prejudiced one. For one, Bihar is not the only state that sends out migrants to big cities and industrial locations. The 2001 Census data on interstate migration lists Bihar along with other poorer states like Jharkhand, Orissa, Rajasthan, Madhya Pradesh and Uttar Pradesh as the states whose net out-migration out-scores the number of people who adopted them as their homes. The thesis that economic distress could be a major push factor for populations to become mobile is offset by a census record that unmistakably lists Tamil Nadu and Kerala as two of the relatively prosperous states that have continuously sent people and workforce out.

Equally, in states and cities that attract mobile populations, Biharis do not necessarily constitute the largest bloc among recent migrants. In Maharashtra, which received the largest number of migrants in the period 1991-2000, people from Bihar were far fewer in number than those from UP, Karnataka, Madhya Pradesh and Gujarat. Amongst those heading towards Delhi, the share of Bihar migrants was less than half of those from UP. A more or less similar pattern could be discerned for the state of Punjab where the word Bihari has almost become a euphemism for the Hindi-speaking working population.

Second, a large number of them, whether in Haryana and Punjab or in big cities such as Delhi, Kolkata or Mumbai, have lived there for decades and grown roots. Migration of farm labour from Bihar to regions outside the state is centuries old, although the preferred destinations have continually changed: in the late 18th and early 19th century the choice ranged from the fields of Rangpur and Mymensingh districts in East Bengal to distant Burma. Typical to the labour-migrants, the migration was seasonal and short-lived – rarely more than four to six months – and primarily male. With the growth of industry in the late 19th century, the destination of Bihari migrants began to change. They now began to head to Calcutta and 24 Paragnas, the two industrial hubs in the Bengal province. By the 1920s, however, another perceptible variation in the pattern of migration surfaced, this time prompted by a gradual decline in the demand for unskilled labour in urban and rural Bengal.¹

 

Post-Independence too, out-migration from the state remained consistent; both the 1951 and 1961 enumerations listed around 4% of the Bihar population as living outside the state. The 1960s saw the destination for farm labourers and other unskilled workers from Bihar change once again. They were now heading towards Punjab, Haryana and western UP, the pull factor being the wage differential in areas of the green revolution. The migration was typically rural to rural: from the villages of Bihar to the agricultural fields of the states that were in the throes of capitalist agricultural transformation. The surplus so generated also fuelled the out-migration of Punjabi workforce to countries overseas, and Bihari labour was enlisted to meet this labour shortage. In a way, the immigrants kept the fields tilled and harvested, and later the industries of Punjab running, but soon the bonhomie disappeared as their presence became a thorn in the side of the nativists.

The choice of Delhi for large-scale population movement from Bihar seems to have come rather late in the day. Up till 2001, as one survey suggests, Bihar’s share in the migrant population of Delhi was 14%, a figure which rose more than twice to a phenomenal 31% by 2013. The shift towards metropolitan cities demanded an orientation different from that required for farm work – new skills and willingness to confront the pressures of a big city – and the workers seemed prepared to brave it. An overwhelming majority, nearly 86%, in a city such as Delhi are employed in the service sector as transport workers, construction labours, repair mechanics, security guards, delivery persons – predominantly informal, most arduous and least rewarding.²

 

A third point that warrants attention is that a considerable proportion of the Bihar migrants today comprise a relatively well-heeled middle class – the skilled and white collar workers. The desire for overseas locations has remained feeble among the Bihari elite, though a substantial section of the middle class professionals took to interstate mobility to exploit opportunities. The escape by this section of the population from Bihar is relatively recent, the process essentially spurred by student migration to institutions of higher learning outside the state. The late Arvind N. Das attributed this to the ‘push factor’ – a fallout of the ‘academic mafia’ that had prevailed over the demise of higher education in the state.³ Notably, the skewed spread of educational infrastructure in the country is far too striking to ignore. Up till very recently, central institutions – be it IITs, IIMs, central universities, various science establishments – considered to be at the top of the institutional hierarchy, had bypassed Bihar. The middle classes who have all along pinned their hope on educational attainments for income mobility were left with little option but to send their wards outside the state.

Little studied, but perhaps a potential area of research in this context, is the impact of the politics of social justice – first the Karpoori formula and a decade later the Mandal Commission, on the state of academic institutions. Evidently, the ascent of the backward castes was accompanied by a substantial decline in the pre-eminent position that the landowning castes enjoyed in the universities and colleges of Bihar. This struggle for hegemony had its manifestation in campus violence, extended periods of shut downs, strikes and a general crumbling of academic institutions – enough to prompt the flight of affluent castes and classes.

The opening up of the economy following the neo-liberal restructuring, enabled this section of educated Biharis to look for a share in the expanding tertiary sector in the metropolis. As observed in migration patterns elsewhere, in Bihar too it is not just poverty that pushes people to move out; prosperity too can be a compelling reason. Long distance migration requires material wherewithal as well as established networks. It is, therefore, no surprise that the propensity to migrate in recent years is most discernible among classes located at two extremes of the agrarian structure – the landlords and agricultural labour.⁴

 

Around the end of 2009, Ludhiana, Punjab’s industrial hub, reported pitched street battles between local police and migrant workers in the city. This soon transformed into a conflagration between the workers and local Jat strongmen, with the former’s homes being attacked and burnt down. The partisanship of the local press was all too obvious as it unscrupulously exaggerated the role of the migrants, holding them responsible for taking to violence even as that by the natives remained largely unreported. As part of a fact-finding team comprising university teachers, we found that the brutality visited on the workers on the day of the clashes was only a minor part of the story. Ludhiana’s ‘migrant workers’ had been subjected to a far more insidious, routine violence of relentless marginalization and violation of citizenship. Indeed the category ‘migrant’ itself was pregnant with ideas of exclusion.

 

Most anthropological accounts of migration are replete with the migrants’ retention of cultural patterns that they bring with them from the home society. In contrast, the workers living in Punjab made notable moves towards assimilating with the host culture. Many of them spoke fluent Punjabi and sent their children to Punjabi medium schools. In the discursive domain, however, including the press, they continued to be abusively referred to as ‘Biharis’ or bhaiyyas. The process of cultural stigmatization perversely synchronized with their political exclusion and economic marginalization. Very few workers had been provided ration cards or voter cards despite many continuous years of residence. An ethnically differentiated labour market had emerged in the industrial areas of Ludhiana (and perhaps the whole of Punjab) wherein the ‘migrants’ were employed at rates far lower than the market or state determined wages. To add to their woes, almost all of them (except for those working in larger units) were unorganized.⁵

 

The construction of ‘home’ in diaspora studies/anthropological literature on migration sometimes miss this vital point. The ‘home’ is not merely a product of memory and a locus for belonging, but also an outcome of an innate politics of exclusion that the ‘migrants’, essentially from low income groups, are compelled to suffer in host societies. During the recent assembly elections, reports from Punjab spoke of the mobilization of workers by different political parties in their native villages in Bihar.⁶ Underlying these efforts to persuade the migrant Biharis (an estimated two million, according to the news item) to return to vote was the assumption that workers were denied their politics in the state of their residence, Punjab in this case, seen as disenfranchised in places of work and residence while being considered a rights bearing, conscious citizen at ‘home’. It is critical to bear in mind that the migrants’ association with politics is much more complex, nuanced and mediated by a range of variables including income group, duration of migration (seasonal or long-term), inclusive processes in host society etc.

 

I draw some tentative conclusions based on interviews conducted with three Bihari workers employed in a mechanical unit located in Gurgaon’s Udyog Vihar. The workers, with varying duration of migration from their native villages, had followed distinct routes to eventually find employment here, and differed in terms of their skills, education and social background. Forty-five year old Suresh Prasad belongs to Bishnupura village in Bihar. He was the first person in his family to have left the village sometime around 1990, first moving to Chandigarh and later to Delhi and Gurgaon. In the meantime, he upgraded his skills, and from a helper graduated to become a welder. Prasad belongs to Khairwar caste whose members were traditionally employed as domestic workers in the houses of the landlords. The family, therefore, owned a small patch of land that was insufficient to provide a livelihood.

It is difficult to categorize Suresh in either of the two binaries: seasonal or permanent migrant. He goes to the village twice a year – during festivals and harvest time – usually for a short duration as long leave from his permanent employer (he has worked with the same firm for the last 15 years) is not easy to get. While in Chandigarh, it was common to hear native workers complain that the influx of Biharis had lowered the prevailing wage rate. Delhi (including Gurgaon), Suresh found, was more welcoming. Almost all the workers were from outside, though the landlords who rented out dingy rooms to workers like Suresh, were extremely exploitative. More than two-thirds of Suresh’s monthly income is sent back to support his family and educate his two children.

 

In his early fifties, Kailash Sharma has a longer history of migration. He left his village after completing high school and trained in electricals from the local ITI (Industrial Training Institute). The first destination was Calcutta in 1978 where his cousin secured him a job. He then moved to the Ordinance Factory, Murad Nagar (UP) in 1980 and thereafter to a private company in Delhi. For the last 30 years or so, Kailash has been employed in the same engineering unit where he has risen in seniority and stature. Over the years his family, including two children and wife, joined him, all moving into a house which he eventually bought.

In fact all of Kailash’s brothers received technical training, found employment and ultimately settled in industrial towns – Jamshedpur, Gurgaon, Bokaro. They left the village early in life and along with it also the hereditary occupation, carpentry. Though their father too worked in a PSU (public sector unit), he had continued as a carpenter and, unlike the sons, returned to the village on retirement. Leaving the village altogether has certainly helped the family secure significant inter-generational mobility. Kailash’s children, the son and the daughter, completed their master’s degree in business administration and have found white-collar employment in MNCs.

For Kailash, ‘home’ is laden with complexity. Village Thuve in Chhapra district of Bihar, where his family still owns a small piece of land, is his connect with his past, his lineage, his paternal kin. In his own words, his visits to the village are limited to ‘achhe and bure din’, i.e, on occasions of marriage and death. Since Kailash has fully relocated to Gurgaon, he is not among those who regularly sends remittances back home. Neither is he involved in village politics, the contestations over power and entitlements. In 1994, when Kailash applied for a ration card in Gurgaon, he was required to get his name deleted from the village voter list and the ration card terminated. However, when he had to marry his children, he looked for possible spouses from among his caste men who came from the same region.

 

Virendra Prasad, the third worker interviewed, began as a welder and has remained so. In 1987-88, he went in search of a job to Phagwara in Punjab because others from his village had found employment there. The work assigned to him in the factory at Phagwara was perilous, compelling him to move to Delhi where again a fellow villager was instrumental in helping him find work. Before his elder son found employment in a speaker manufacturing factory in Gurgaon, Virendra was the only person from among his extended family to have moved out of the village. Back home, Virendra owns a small patch of land which is self-cultivated, but this hardly assures subsistence. Besides, farming itself requires regular investment. Like Suresh Prasad, Virendra too sends back most of what he earns and survives on a bare minimum. And again like him, visits his village, Tehatti in Chhapra district, a couple of times in the year, generally coinciding with sowing and harvest.

Virendra maintains a close association with other village folk who live and work in the city. The interaction in the city, however, is qualitatively different, touching as it does on the hardship of urban life, problems with the employer and the landlord, and so on. The village in the city is minus its politics. In his words, ‘We are all working people here, away from our village. We did not meet as often in the village as we do here.’

Back home, though, Virendra is not able to vote. However, he has no regrets as, in his absence, his kinsmen or his son cast the ballot on his behalf. In the Ahir tola where they reside, the caste elders collectively decide whom to vote for. In the recently concluded Bihar elections, all of his caste brethren voted for Lalu’s RJD – a choice which he feels is an outcome of rational decision making. During Lalu’s tenure, two factories were set up in the area, one of which is still functioning. Besides, the babusaheb’s too began to respect the Yadavs in the village. In Virendra’s thinking, all talk of ‘jungle raj was a mere figment of some people’s imagination’, as there was no difference between Lalu’s rule and the regime that preceded or followed his.

 

Kailash Sharma’s family is upwardly mobile, facilitated by a longer urban experience which has ensured a degree of disconnect from the village. Though dissociated from everyday politics of the village, Kailash keenly followed the elections and hoped that Bihar would give a decisive mandate to the NDA’s vikas agenda. He claims to have been a Congress voter earlier, but during the Lok Sabha election of 2014, his entire family shifted to the BJP. ‘Modi is sincere about bringing development and enabling industrialization, but he needs time. During Nitish’s rule, Bihar showed some semblance of development and tightening of the law and order machinery, but his joining hands with Lalu is a setback. Besides, Lalu is extremely casteist. We need to leave the past behind,’ he argued. Then why did BJP lose the election if they had the positives on their side? This, he felt, was primarily because the BJP in Bihar is still dominated by the babusaheb who reproduce old hierarchies in their style of politics, Kailash lamented.

 

Neither Kailash Sharma, nor Virendra and Suresh Prasad are members of workers’ unions. The small engineering unit in which they work has only a few permanent employees, most being contractual. For Virendra, it is not the factory but the village which is his domain of politics and the context in which to visualize an alternative world. But for Kailash Sharma, now more or less a complete city dweller, the realm is the ‘nation’ itself. Bihar is not isolated from the nation but critical to its construction. Therefore, a victory for BJP in Bihar would have meant a triumph of his idea of the nation – industrially advanced and powerful.

But why does Suresh Prasad remain evasive on the question of politics? Coming from one of the lowest caste and class locations, Suresh Prasad’s interaction with other members of his village is very limited: ‘There is too much conflict in the village, so I don’t like meeting them here as well.’ He regularly visits his village but until recently did not posses a voter identity card. The question of travelling to the village just to vote does not arise as trains are crowded, tickets too expensive and the leaves very short. ‘In any case, nothing seems to change whoever comes to power, so why bother,’ he complains.

In terms of existing power hierarchies, therefore, Suresh and his castemen remain outside the process of decision making – politics offers scarcely any motivation or excitement. Land and labour, and the everyday indignities have remained inconspicuously absent from the national and vernacular public sphere. Nevertheless, the poor in India do come out to vote, that too a in higher proportion than the affluent – a conundrum which has no convincing explanation.

 

Footnotes:

1. Arjan De Haan, ‘Migration and Livelihoods in Historical Perspective: A Case Study of Bihar, India’, Journal of Development Studies 38(5), June 2002, pp. 126-7.

2. Delhi Human Development Report, 2013, Institute for Human Development and Academic Foundation, Delhi, p.65.

3. Arvind N. Das, ‘India in the Image of Bihar’, Economic and Political Weekly, 5 December 1998, pp. 3103-4.

4. A study on migration from rural Bihar noted major alteration in the process of out-migration with latest trends suggesting a decline among middle peasantry and a rising tendency among the landed, with 60% of the households reporting signs of out-migration; and the land starved among whom every second household had a migrating member to supplement family income. Anup Karan, ‘Changing Pattern of Migration from Rural Bihar’ in K. Gopal Iyer (ed.), Migrant Labour and Human Rights in India. Kanishka Publishers, Delhi, pp. 102-39.

5. The minimum wages on 01/09/2009 as per the Department of Labour, Govt. of Punjab was Rs 3398 per month and Rs 130.71 per day. However this was followed only as an exception. Most workers were found to be employed at a fixed mazdoori of Rs 2200 a month which amounted to about Rs 70 a day. Fact Finding Report of Jamia Teachers’ Solidarity Association (unpublished ), December 2009.

6. ‘Elections in Bihar, Campaigning in Punjab to Woo Bihari Migrants’, The New Indian Express, 4 October 2015.