Taka mantri Pranab babu can do anything, says Jangipur

The finance minister’s constituency has faith in its leader as well as a few humble requests
Avijit Ghosh TNN In Raghunathganj, the biggest town in the Jangipur Lok Sabha constituency, roadside hotels flaunt their religious identity: Noor Muslim Hotel or Ram Krishna Hindu Hotel. Here cycle rickshaws rule the roads and its only cinema hall survives on Tollywood potboilers starring perpetual Prosenjit and latest posterboy, Deb. Bookstores don't sell English novels and street-side shops are stuffed with cheap porn VCDs, some in Bangla. The town does have a few internet parlours and ATM machines too. And they do work, if there is power. But the heart of finance minister Pranab Mukherjee’s constituency lies beyond its municipal area in the great hinterland of central Bengal — home to at least 5 lakh bidi workers. Located on the northern part of West Bengal’s Murshidabad district, Jangipur has about 65% Muslim voters. Most socio-economic indicators are pretty low, including a sad 45% literacy. The area is also ravaged by soil erosion and poisoned by arsenic-laden water. And despite recent improvements, several hinterland roads are extremely hard to negotiate, says local journalist Biman Hazra. Simply put, nobody worries here about fringe benefit tax. When Pranab babu campaigned in these parts back in 2004, his cavalcade of swank cars raised both dust and eyebrows. The ‘outsider’ prompts a sense of awe. Five years on, the outsider has been accepted and embraced; his image growing even larger than the cut-outs that still adorn parts of Raghunathganj. Reason: cutting across class and geography, a vast majority says he has delivered more than any MP in the past three decades. No surprise, his margin of victory tripled: from 37,000 votes in 2004 to 1.28 lakh in 2009. But in democracy, expectation can be an insatiable maw. And its crushing load is best summed up by bus conductor Sheikh Mujibur Rehman: “Uni to taka mantri. (He’s the minister of money). He can do anything,” he says. Not many in Jangipur understand the nuances of the Budget. But they believe that the man presenting the country’s annual financial outline is resourceful enough to do anything. “Only he can get vapour lights for our village,” says Jintu Sheikh, a carpenter who works in Kolkata. Most demands, though, go beyond the personal. Pranab Mukherjee’s achievements in the previous term included setting up a provident fund regional office for bidi workers and a regional passport office in nearby Behrampore to facilitate Haj pilgrimages. Projects in the works include a food-processing park, an electric crematorium and a Rs 55 crore-plant to purge the water of arsenic content meant for Raghunathganj and the 84 villages around it. But no project has fired the local imagination as dramatically as the building of a college in Sagardighi, a first in the predominantly rural area. “With a capacity of 500, it will take care of students from seven higher secondary schools spread over 187 villages,” says principal Siddheshwar Pahadi. Adds college student Moumita Saha, “We are looking forward to the science section being completed. Then we will have computers.” Top city businessman Prosenjit Dey wants a daily shuttle between Kolkata and Jangipur. “That would be great for traders and businessmen,” he says. Adds Pahadi, “There is no girls’ college here. Jangipur badly needs one. We would also like our heritage — the old dargahs and temples — to be protected and preserved.” But for many, survival tops the agenda. In Phadilpur Dihpara village, Taslima Khatun rolls out bidis, a job known to cause tuberculosis and bronchial asthma. Rollers like her get Rs 45 per 1,000 bidis. Some manage to roll 1,200 per day but Taslima, who looks much older than her 40 years, manages only 500. “I would like Rs 60 per 1,000,” she says. Perhaps the wish of every bidi worker in the region. Farther down towards the Bangladesh border, the sky quickly turns into a dark canvas. Soon it’s just red earth and pouring rain. Unmindful, about 100 workers beaver away with soil erosion repairs — laying out huge blocks of stone in iron nets — on the Padma’s banks. But 60-yearold farmer Zain-ul-Abidin is unhappy. “We need to dump many more stones into the river. Otherwise the river will keep swallowing up the land,” he says. Abidin knows the pain of loss. Last year he lost 11 acres to the river. “See those trees,” he points towards a cluster about 2 kilometres away. “Once the river used to be there. Now it has travelled here and taken our homes. Aamra pather bhikiri hoye gelam (We have become beggars).” Abidin and 300 displaced families from Baira Chintamani, Kahla, Shekalipur and other villages in Jangipur have a succinct charter of demand. “We want more money invested in anti-erosion repairs. And we want to be rehabilitated,” he says. But even with Pranab babu in charge of the nation’s treasure chest, the old farmer isn’t sure his wish will be fulfilled. “It is not a demand really,” he says, “only a prayer.” WITH INPUTS FROM SUBHRO MAITRA