75 vs. 613: Electricity Consumption in Bihar and India

Bihar’s per capital electricity consumption, at 75 kilowatt-hour (kWh), is the lowest in India and far below the national average of 613 units according to a recent report titled Energy Injustice.

This is not unusual; Bihar falls below the national average on almost all indices of development and wellbeing. Yet the disparity between Bihar and the rest of India is way too high when it comes to electricity consumption and access to electricity. Consumption is more than 8 times lower in Bihar than the rest of India. Less than 10% households have electricity connection in Bihar and only 3% of farmers use electricity for irrigation. Half of the villages are yet to be electrified and even in urban areas, people pay Rs. 10-12/unit to private power generators to get 24 hours power supply.

Low consumption of electricity is not just a symptom of Bihar’s underdevelopment; it is a cause. Lack of power makes every economic activity–farming, agro-processing, manufacturing, service provision, education– uncompetitive; a hassle. I firmly believe that improving electricity supply will give a boost to Bihar’s economy like no other single intervention will. We need massive investments in electricity sector in Bihar; the returns will be very high.

From my great-great grandfather to me

In 1876, AP Mcdonell,  in his ‘Report on Food-grain Supply of Bengal and Behar’, recorded average rice yield to be 1000 to 1200 kg/hectare (ha) in Tirhut and 500 to 1700 kilograms/ha in Champaran (average being  979 kg/ha) in a good year. He reported double cropped area to be 30-32% of cultivated land (cropping intensity of 1.3-1.32). In some tappas of Champaran, cropping intensity was as high as 1.62. One hundred and thirty years later, in 2006—when the population pressure on land has increased five folds, most (84%) still cultivators and agricultural laborers just as in 1876; two-third of land has been brought under irrigation; and chemical fertilizers and hybrid seeds have become common—average rice yield is almost the same in these parts of Bihar, barely higher. Cropping intensity, now at around 1.4, has not increased by much either[1].

I want to know why.

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[1] The picture is better for Rabi season. Wheat and winter maize are now grown over a much larger area and wheat yields are two to four times higher. But there is not a sharp increase in the total area under second crop. Wheat and maize have replaced coarse cereals and pulses whose yields have not increased over this 130 year period at all.

Survival off Stamp Size Plots

According to Agriculture Census 2000-01, two-thirds (64.34%) of the 11.6 million land holdings in Bihar are smaller than 2000 sq. meters (i.e. 0.5 acres). These sub-half acre holdings account for nearly 20% of the total cultivable area in the state and their average size is just 760 sq. meters (0.19 acres).  I wonder how the rice-wheat cropping system, predominant in Bihar, can be sustained on such stamp sized plots.

Elsewhere smallholders are diversifying to high value crops and crop based activities (like dairying) to eke out a living off their tiny plots. But that does not seem to be happening in Bihar. Here rice-wheat system continues to dominate agriculture. Rice-Wheat cropping on such small plots, with yields as low as they are in Bihar (rice+wheat<4 tons/ha), cannot provide enough food or employment. These 7.5 million smallholder families must be supplementing their incomes from other activities–like working in others’ fields and migrating to villages and cities of other states of India–just to survive. If so, then the claim that 3/4th of the working population in rural Bihar is employed mainly in agriculture becomes suspect. It may still be true, but it definitely requires closer scrutiny.

Muzaffarpur

Muzaffarpur is my hometown, “the place I belong”.

Muzaffarpur is the largest town in north Bihar. It is a relatively new settlement with humble beginnings. The founder, Muzaffar Khan, was an amil ( revenue collector) of Mughals in eighteenth century. Years before East India Company’s accession to the Diwani, he selected 75 bighas (~ 68 acres or 0.27 sq. km) of land from the village of Sikandarpur on the north, Kanhauli on the east, Sayyidpur on the south,  and Sariyaganj on the west, and called the town Muzaffarpur, after his own name.

Few noticed the founding of the new town. For decades it remained an obscure place.  The name Muzaffarpur does not even appear in the settlement records of 1790. Apparently, no one in the government knew it existed till one Sankar Dat brought it to the attention of the Company officials. We do not know who this Sankar Dat was. In 1817, more than half a century after its founding, Muzaffarpur had only 667 houses. It was still a village. But then the town grew rapidly and by the Census of 1872, it had become the second largest town in Tirhut district after Darbhanga with a population of 38,223. Darbhanga (47,450), Hajipur (22,306), Lalganj (12,338), Rosera (9441) and Sitamarhi (5496) were other major towns of Tirhut in 1872. After the famine of 1874, Tirhut was split into districts of Darbhanga and Muzaffarpur in 1875. Muzaffarpur town became the administrative headquarter of the eponymous district.

(This is from WW Hunter’s A Statistical Record of Bengal, Vol. XII, first published in 1877. More will follow as I read more).

 

Mobile Bihar

Number of cell phone subscribers in Bihar crossed one crore (ten million) mark this year. The state is experiencing telecom revolution: subscription increased from 1.1 million in 2005 to more than 10 million in 2008–a ten-fold increase in 3 years! I don’t know of any technology, innovation, or habit that spread so fast. Even chai and bidi took more time and effort to become widespread addictions. My grandfather used to tell us stories of how, when he was young, tea companies and beedi companies used to distribute chai and beedi free (“lutaate the“) to get people hooked to the new habit. Now cellphone companies use “lifetime offers” and free incoming.

Cell phone revolution is not unique to Bihar or even India. It is a worldwide phenomenon.  In fact, Bihar ranks fourteenth, behind most other big states, in cellphone subscription. Yet the numbers are significant. Roughly 10% of state population owns a cell phone now. According to a 2008 survey by Pratham, covering 21,000 households from 1000 villages of the state, 38% of all rural households have phones (mobile or landlines) while only 17.8% have TVs and 27.4% have electricity connection.

Rural Development Minister, Raghuvansh Prasad Singh, once complained that more rural households in India have TV sets than septic latrines, even when both cost about the same. He was lamenting the lack of demand for hygiene. Even I am surprised: such widespread ownership of phones in a state that is so poor! Nearly half of Bihar lives on less than a dollar a day and three-fourth on less than $2/day. Sixty percent of the children are malnourished and 73% houses are kutcha or semi-pakka. What is it about phones that makes them an essential even for people who are so poor? Is the need for connectivity so high? Higher than the need for health and hygiene? Like Raghuvansh Prasad Singh, this hierarchy of needs or the preference order of people baffles me too.

I understand that phones are a necessity in a state that sends the maximum number of migrant laborers to other states. They reduce the pain and inconvenience of separation of families due to migration. Yet I find such high density of ownership surprising.

While expressing my surprise, I must confess that after avoiding the lure of 24 hour connectivity for years, I too succumbed in Novermber 2007, and now shell out $ 40 every month from my measly stipendiary earnings to stay in touch with family and friends.

Back to Bihar: Power Starved Bihar-II

Social scientists often deride engineers and MBAs for their naïve confidence in technological solutions to development problems. I am aware of the naivete. Yet I do have an engineer like faith in what decent electricity provision can do for Bihar’s development. I have thought of the social, political and economic factors behind the wretched condition of power infrastructure in Bihar. A question I have often asked myself is: is there enough demand for better power supply in Bihar, specially in its rural areas? Even if someone sets up the power supply system once, what is the guarantee that the system won’t fall into disrepair and disuse again? I don’t have answers to these questions. But I do feel that even if these concerns are valid, electricity sector in Bihar still needs a big push. Biharis may not deserve this push, but they do need it.

Just look at the numbers: less than 10 percent of Bihar’s households have electricity connection. In a state of 90 million people, there are only 1.85 million consumers. 18,217 of the state’s 45,103 villages remain un-electrified. Even the privileged few, who have electricity connections, get an indifferent power supply and have to rely on costly power back-up systems. In fact, BSEB handles just 8 billion kWh of electricity every year. After factoring in the technical losses in transmission and distribution—say at 25%, given extremely poor condition of the network—per capita power available in Bihar works out to just about 65 kWh/year. This is worse than Sub-Saharan Africa.

A big challenge in reviving the system is the Bihar State Electricity Board (BSEB) itself. It is by far the most inefficient electricity utility in India.

If we look at generation, BSEB owns two thermal power stations: Barauni (320 MW) and Kanti (220 MW), both in terrible state of disrepair for several years now. Only one 110MW unit in Barauni is producing any electricity. Kanti thermal power station has been transferred to NTPC and is a ruin, barely 25 years after its inauguration. NTPC is practically rebuilding it. Kanti is likely to generate 500 million kWh in 2009-10. Bihar gets most of its power (~bout 7500 MUs/year ) from central allocation and there is a huge unmet demand that will only increase as electricity spreads to more households and villages. The state badly needs new generation capacity. But given BSEB’s track record, the government would do well to let NTPC or private investors set up new plants and buy electricity from them.

The situation is not much better in transmission and distribution. ATC losses were 47-48% in 2007 by BSEB’s own admission. Actual losses must be higher. Half the consumers have meter-less connections and BSEB claims that agricultural consumption was 20% of the total consumption (890 MUs) in 2006. It later revised this number to 13% of the total (578 MUs). I think even this revised number is an overestimate, given the fact that it is hard to come by a running electric pumpset in Bihar. I have not seen any in my extensive fieldworks in the state. Minor Irrigation census also reports that only 10% of all pumpsets in the state run on electricity. Why would any farmer own an electric pumpset in Bihar when the flat rate is as high as Rs. 2400/HP/year with barely any power being available in rural areas? There is little doubt that like all state utilities, BSEB is also hiding some of its T&D losses as agricultural consumption.

BSEB’s inefficiencies are also apparent from the fact that while it gets electricity at an average cost of Rs. 1.88/unit, average cost at the consumer end is Rs. 5.00/unit (including subsidies and cross-subsidies) in 2007 and is projected to increase up to Rs. 5.27/unit in FY 2009. Transmission and distribution costs, including losses, are Rs. 3.39/unit—1.8 times more than the purchase and generation cost. This is too high especially when we consider the fact that BSEB does not have a large rural network.

What really hurts is that even for such high costs ((12 US cents/unit), the system provides unreliable and extremely poor quality service. In urban areas of Bihar, almost all business units and all households that can afford, rely on power back-up from diesel generator sets. As a result, the total consumer cost of power is very-very high, close to 25 cents/unit. Such high energy cost is one of the biggest stumbling blocks to development of both manufacturing and service sectors in the state. In rural areas, nearly all farmers rely on diesel pumpsets for irrigation and high cost of irrigation is a major barrier to the much needed agricultural intensification in Bihar.

The 13,723 employees of BSEB constitute what is probably one of the most vicious interest groups of Bihar. Their wage costs the state a fortune. For every rupee spent on power purchase and generation, BSEB spends 36 paise on paying its staff: current and retired. Staff costs account for 50 percent of the total revenue generated from power sales[1]. But even more is lost to their corruption, inefficiency and intransigence to any reforms. Mancur Olson gave us a theory of how small eats big in public sphere; here is a prototype example with thirteen thousand people holding ninety million to ransom.

[1] Against that annual repair and maintenance expenditure accounts for less than 2.5% of power purchase and generation costs and only 3.5% of total revenue from power sales.

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How Much do I Earn: Is it so Rude to Ask?

I was talking to a cousin yesterday. We were classmates in college (IGNOU) and prepared for competitive exams together. He is a good friend. We were talking after a long time and I asked him about his marriage plans. He said, he was not getting married any soon. I asked why? And he responded: because everyone interested wants to know my salary and i don’t want to tell them.  Of course! he was overreacting and exaggegerating. He thought so too. Yet he was really irritated by this inqusitiveness.   

 I know the feeling all too well. Everytime i go home, I face this question, and not only from people interested in marrying their daughters to me. I get irritated too, irritated and embarassed. I am 32, and still a student. In God of Small Things, Arundhati Roy calls age 32, a viable age . (She also calls it a dieable age, but let’s not talk about that). But i am far from being viable. I barely scrape by. confessing it again and again is not fun. And people do not stop just at income assessment. There are some who want details of my expense account too. One of my dad’s cousins comes to see me everytime when i am in Muzaffarpur and takes a meticulous account of my income and expenditure. How much do I spend on food, shelter, hair styling, women, wine: he needs to know everything. As if he was deputed by NSSO to do a sample survey of consumption habits of Indians on F-1 visa.

Why does he, and many others, do this? How would they know if i am not telling white lies? I think they do it because they feel compelled to.  My father’s generation in my family is still deeply rooted in agrarian traditions. All my uncles are farmers or at least take active interest in managing their farm operations. And when you are a farmer, you know what everyone around sows and reaps. Its right there, before everyone’s eyes. If the crop is good, you boast; if it is bad, you lament: all in public. Hiding your true income is not only impossible; it may even be dysfunctional. After all you rely on the community for insurance. I think the disclosure norms of agrarian households are stricter than those for public listed companies, and may be just as functional. Perhaps, that is the reason why asking someone his income, considered incredibly rude in cities, is a norm in my community. People cannot do without it. It makes me uncomfortable because i am from a different generation with different etiquettes. But, unlike my cousin, I don’t think there is anything inherently wrong with this kind of inquisitiveness.  I don’t look down upon people who ask me these questions, or think that they are uncultured. Just that they are from a diffrent culture. I will be the first one to admit that this probing makes me uncomfortable, and this paparazzi persistence with something that makes someone uncomfortable, just to satisfy your curiosity, is considered rude in all cultures and tradtions.

Any counterexamples?

100 Bimaar…

For a population of 100 million, there are only 6 recognized medical colleges in Bihar. In north Bihar, where more than half of the state’s population lives, there are only 2 medical colleges. 390 new doctors graduate from these 6 colleges every year while the number of potential patients grows by about 2 million. On average, we have one doctor for 2700 people in Bihar. In rural areas, where 90% of Biharis live, the ratio must be much lower. It will only get worse as we add only 1 new doctor for 5000 newbornes every year. Unless we do something.

Government of Bihar proposed to increase the number of seats to 700 in the existing 6 medical colleges and build 3 new medical colleges in the state. Medical Council of India (MCI) disapproved both proposals and Supereme Court upheld MCI’s decision. MCI did not allow increasing of seats in existing colleges because if found faculty and facilities inadequate even for the current student strength in all six colleges. I do not know why MCI disallowed setting up of new medical colleges though. May be, it wants the state government to improve existing colleges before it sets up new ones. A sensible decision in my view.

This means that the doctor-population ratio will keep going down in Bihar for some time to come. Treatment will be expensive and difficult to access for most Biharis. We want more doctors in rural areas. Recently GoI decided to make a 1-year rural internship an essential for MBBS degree. I am not sure if the new rule will achieve its purpose. Young doctors will find ways to skip the rural stay component. I think one way to ensure availability of qualified doctors in rural areas is to produce more doctors every year. If there are more doctors, the new ones will be forced, by increased competition, to move to unglamorous areas to find practice. Right now, doctors are so scarce, they do not need to go the extra mile to survive.

My Family’s Involvement in Independence Movement

Textbooks and teaching of history in India have a Bollywood quality to them. Characters and regimes are almost always one-dimensional: either good without a blemish or bad without any saving grace.
Reality is seldom so, even for the heroes of the history. Much less for the common people. My friend Rahul in his May 2008 entry ”A Story to Tell” asks :

“How did native tradesmen, civil servants, and those with occupations and social connections vested in the British empire in India feel about the independence movement?”

This set me thinking about my own family’s involvement in independence movement.

Much of what i know about my forefathers is due to my eea (paternal grandmother). She was married to my family in 1939, when she was just twelve years old. I don’t think she got a fair deal from her in-laws. Still she was fiercely proud of the family and tried to instill the same pride in me.  Like official historiography, her narrations also had a purpose beyond just my amusement.  Objectivity must have suffered in the process but I was too young to doubt, question or filter. Since then i have tried to fill in the gaps, but without a historian’s rigor or a story teller’s imagination.  Here is some of it…

I come from a family of petty zamindaars (landlords). A 19th century land record, that i have seen myself, describes pesha: kashtkaari-o-mahajani (occupation: farming and money-lending]. This probably points to the humble origins of my family. But mahajani must have paid rich dividends in time and the family came to acquire zamindari rights over (whole or parts of) 56 villages spread all over the old Muzaffarpur district.

As family’s landholdings increased, so did its involvement in public life. I do not know if it was by design or by sheer coincidence. What i know for sure is that there was a division of labor within the large joint family. My great grandfather had two elder brothers: Reejhan bhaiya and Bijan Bhaiya. The older (Reejhan Shahi) took charge of Zamindari interests. He was a natural: frugal, hardworking, ruthless, manipulative and well versed with the world of court-kechehri . The younger one, Babu Brijnandan Shahi, was man of intellect. He was the first college graduate from my village (1917) and he took active part in Congress politics from a very early age. He attended the first Congress session held in Bihar and was the pre-eminent Congress leader of the area till his untimely death in 1940-41at age of 45 or so.

He seems to be an interesting character from whatever little i have heard of him. He was a khadi wearing Gandhian but he was also one of the first few in the district to own a motor-car. He would often disapprove of Reejhan bhaiya’s typical zamindari machinations and manipulations but would never resist him firmly. In his autobiography and also in Discovery of India, Nehru laments capture of Congress by local elites like my great granduncle, Brijnandan Shahi. Nehru thought that such people associated with Congress to exploit Gandhi’s (and even his own) moral authority and charisma to cement their power over raiyyats. As the most active, popular and in-demand campaigner of his party in elections, he resented the fact that he had to help local leaders who were active in elections but absent in grassroots activities.

Brijnandan Shahi was also a leader in the same mould. My grandfather, who admired him and followed him into politics, once told me that it was his election to Local Board Chairmanship that hollowed our family out financially. Voters were bribed with bicycles–a thousand were distributed at a time when whole villages did not have even one—free food for days, and much else. Our family spent millions (in today’s value) on that election. Millions that were extracted ruthlessly from dirt poor farmers and spent with abandon on election of a representative from Gandhi’s party. Nehru was rightfully resentful of such leaders but even he was helpless. The capture of Congress was complete and over time Congress party became increasingly reliant on the local elite for material and popular support. Nehru may not have liked Brijnandan Shahi but he did borrow his car for campaigning in 1935 assembly elections. Brijnandan Shahi, while taking Nehru to his destination in his car, tried to take a detour through his own constituency under some ruse. Nehru was extremely popular; his one glimpse would have given a big boost to Shahi’s election. The seasoned campaigner in Nehru immediately saw through Shahi’s stratagem and Shahi received a dose of the famous Nehru temperament. 

Brijnandan Shahi was the pioneer. Soon, others followed him into active politics. Some of the best and the brightest in the family chose a political career and made the required sacrifices for it. They spun khadi, were rusticated from college, passed up lucrative government job opportunities and even went to jail. Even women in the family were active. They spun khadi and sang freedom songs: Gandhi baba more dulha bane hain, dulhin bani sarkar! Charakhwa chalu rahe. Irwin jee dekho samdhi bane hai kheer khiauni mein maange suraaj, Charakhwa chalu rahe…(This particular song celebrated the roundtable meet and the Gandhi-Irwin pact, 1931). A small new building, called “Congress”, was built specially for this purpose. It still stands in my village. Not much goes on there anymore.

Active participation in Congress and the independence movement was a drain on family finances but it brought recognition and respect way beyond our means and pedigree. Thanks to Gandhi, wearing khadi, boycotting college, attending congress conventions and going to jail had all become signs of being more advanced and more enlightened. My grandma’s family owned more land and was wealthier, yet, she used to tell us, they were in awe of my family because of its involvement in public life.

One more family story to make my point clear. One of my great grand uncles was married in a rich family. When my family reached the bride’s place, they found that everyone on the bride’s side was wearing silk. On this side, only a few people had silken kurtas. Now this could be a source of major embarrassment for Shahis of Baruraj. Groom’s family was becoming increasingly nervous and dispirited when someone came up with a brilliant idea: Let’s give the few available silken kurtas to servants while all the babus, including the groom, proudly wear Khaddar. Khadi not only saved the day for babus of Baruraj but they also managed to make a show of their being modern, educated, conscientious. Now silk was beneath them, a sign of retrogression.

Gandhi made conviction by colonial government a thing of prestige. Montagu-Chelmsford Reforms and later on Government of India Act 1935 brought power and patronage opportunities to public life. Congress compromise policy of taking everyone along allowed families like mine to non-cooperate with one hand while collecting land revenues for His Majesty’s government with the other.

One last family story to end the piece. During Quit India Movement in 1942, people burned down the police station in my village, chased away the government officials and made Reejhan Shahi, the no-nonsense elder brother of Brijnandan Shahi, in-charge. It was an act of treason he readily took part in, even if under popular pressure. But he was not the kind of a man who could be made to do anything against his wish. He must have been carried away by the zeitgeist. Only a short while ago he had collected “loyal to government” flags issued by the collector and showed them to the American Scouts when they passed through my village during the war period.

Chapra (Bihar): The Sea of Poppies, the Land of Gunpowder and the Home of Girmitiyas

Amitava Ghosh has written a new book: The Sea of Poppies. Like his other books, this one also seems to be based on a lot of historical research. I have not read the book; i have only read excerpts here.

He makes an interesting claim in the book: “The Ghazipur (in eastern UP) and Patna opium factories between them produced the wealth of Britain. It is astonishing to think of it but the Empire was really founded on opium”. A lot of opium came from the bhojpuri speaking areas of Bihar, including Chapra, my maternal home.

I did not know that Amitava Ghosh has his roots in Chapra. His ancestors left East Bengal in 1656, and after much wandering they settled in Chhapra and remained there for the next 150 years. His father grew up speaking Bhojpuri. This is such a pleasant surprise. He also happens to be uncle of one of my best friends in America. Now I am beginning to believe in the “six degrees of separation” idea:-).

Ghosh says that opium was the major economic activity in that region in 19th century when his family settled there. I thought Saran was also a major source of Saltpeter (Potassium Nitrate)–the main ingredient of gunpowder before synthetic sources were invented. Saltpeter was much in demand in 18th and 19th century Europe in all the great wars–The Seven Years’ and the Thirty Years’ and the Napoleanic Wars– being waged to decide the supremacy over the continent and the world.

Besides gunpowder, opium and indigo, Chapra and its neighboring districts were also THE source of indentured labor, the girmitiya mazdoors, who were taken to distant lands of Mauritius, the Carribeans and Surinam to work on plantations. This book is about them.

Talking about these laborers, Ghosh says “for me what was so hard to imagine, so incredibly poignant, was the moment of departure. What did it mean for them? They were farmers, the most rooted people. The courage it took at that time for a Bihari to set out across the kala pani is something you and I can barely conceive of. I felt so moved by that, such admiration for them in a way that I wanted to write about it. I wanted to think about it in detail, what was it really like, the actual moment of departure when you see everything you know disappearing behind you. What these people endure is unbelievable, nothing magical could equal it”.

I agree! It is incredibly poignant. Like my friend Rahul, I also love books that try to reconstruct lives of common people in historical times. Amitava Ghosh makes it even more interesting by mixing facts with fiction and fantasia. I cannot wait to start this book. It is definitely on the top of my summer reading list now.