There was a time when elections in Bihar were not fought - they were celebrated. The year was 1995. I had just returned from California to do a survey of Bihar assembly elections along with the CSDS. I travelled all over the state. In dusty market towns and sleepy villages, the air itself seemed to hum with voltage. Campaigns stretched for six enchanted weeks (several phases after the dates were announced), half politics, half carnival. Loudspeakers blared from bamboo poles tied to cycle rickshaws, record players crackled with campaign songs-each party's anthem written by local poets, sung by folk troupes who moved from one tola to another, like travelling minstrels of democracy.
In those days, the night was not for sleeping. Every evening, after the harvest, after the cattle were tethered and the lamps lit, began the real theatre of politics. Drummers from Bhojpur and singers from Mithila would gather, turning chowks into open-air stages. Men, women, even children swayed to the rhythms of laal salaam or Jai Lalu Yadav ki jai ho! - depending on the village's political colour. Critics of Lalu Prasad Yadav began a popular slogan: Bihar chunav bhel Bhadon mein, Lalu ke Lalten phasal kado mein, meaning Bihar elections are in the month of Bhado (the Monsoon month from late August to late September), Lalu Yadav's lantern (RJD symbol) got stuck in the slush. "Slush" also referred to the lack of development of roads.
Part Diwali, Part Holi, Wholly Political Campaigns
Some foreign correspondents and poll surveyors, who travelled with me during the entire period, were wide-eyed and amused. They often wrote that Indian elections were "as much religious festivals as democratic exercises." And they weren't wrong. For a month and a half, Bihar became one great, undivided celebration-part Holi, part Diwali, wholly political.
Reminded me of Harivansh Rai Bachchan's magnum opus, long-form poem, Madhusala (Roj Holi, roj Diwali manati meri Madhusala). Those were the days sans prohibition: the metaphor of Madhusala fitted the campaign joints, although as far as I remember, there were more tea stalls than bars.
Politics Was Participation, Not Merely Performance
I remember that in each village, campaigners would apply gulal (vermilion) on their faces as if Holi was being celebrated. There were fireworks, slogans, and songs, even launda naatch (a boy dancing dressed as a girl) in the form of Bhikhari Thakur plays in Bhojpur and Buxar; there were feasts of khir, mitai, after lithi chokha, sponsored by candidates; there was faith that politics was participation, not merely performance.
Such festivals were perennial despite former Election Commissioner T N Seshan's model code of conduct. Parties minimised visible expenditure, but invisible expenditure on voters flowed. Dalit booths were added and that led to some conflict but more euphoria in the air. Hope was replacing Dalit despair.
Has Bihar Forgotten To Sing?
Fast forward three decades to 2025-and one might be forgiven for thinking Bihar had forgotten how to sing.
This year, the campaign trail is curiously silent. Streets that once echoed with party songs now resonate only with the mechanical hum of generators and the click of smartphones. The once-mighty loudspeaker -- symbol of India's noisy democracy -- has fallen silent. No more walls plastered with faces of leaders smiling in pixelated glory. No local singers making verses about "vikas" and "nyay." No dusty processions clogging the narrow lanes of Hajipur or Purnea, no Maithili Vidyapati songs in Madhubani or Darbhanga, with politics tastefully mixed with the lyrics, despite popular singer Maithili Thakur being nominated by the BJP as a candidate from Alinagar constituency.
The air, this time, is still. Instead, the real campaign happens on glowing screens - on reels, hashtags, and thirty-second videos, called "shorts". Political rallies have become virtual spectacles; tweets and Instagram stories have replaced slogans on village walls. The most visible figure in this silent election is Prashant Kishor - walking from district to district, his Jan Suraaj project live-streamed more faithfully than reported.
The Essential Is Absent Today: No Pulse, No Hope
And yet, for all this digital energy, something essential feels absent. The campaign no longer feels. It does not smell of sweat and dust; it does not pulse with the noise of hope or the laughter of scepticism.
Partly, this is timing. With Diwali and Chhath falling between now and the 28th of October, Bihar is in festive slumber. Between the last diya and the first ballot, there is barely a week to campaign before the first phase of polling on November 6. Seat negotiations have swallowed up September and October; the bazaars of Patna buzz more with alliance arithmetic than with political slogans.
Partly, this is the effect of the hurriedly implemented Special Intensive Revision by the Election Commission. Thanks to Rahul Gandhi and Tejashwi Yadav, there was some action during the 16-day Voter Adhikar Rally and the 5-day Bihar Adhikar Yatra. But after the announcement of the polls, there is total silence all across the state.
But deeper than the tight election scheduling by the Election Commission is the sense of exhaustion -- a fatigue of the political imagination. Democracy, once lived in the open, now seems confined to screens. The slogans that once rose from the heartland now descend from "social media cells." The candidate who once walked with folded hands from house to house now sits before a ring light, counting likes.
Campaign Transformation Is Spiritual, Not Just Stylistic
And so, the transformation of Bihar's campaign is more than just stylistic -- it is spiritual.
When politics loses its performative joy, when democracy ceases to be a shared experience, participation suffers. Fewer people feel the call to vote; fewer hearts are moved to hope. The carnival that once drew everyone -- rickshaw-puller and schoolteacher alike -- into the fold now risks becoming a spectator sport.
Will Campaign Silence Alter The Turnout?
Will this silence alter the outcome? Perhaps. A subdued campaign often favours the incumbent -- when emotion doesn't overflow, habit prevails. Low enthusiasm may mean lower turnout; lower turnout, history tells us, often helps those already in power. Yet, in this quiet, there is also opportunity -- for reflection, for reinvention, for a more mindful politics.
Maybe the electorate is tired not of politics, but of noise. Maybe the voters of Bihar, seasoned by decades of loud promises, now prefer the calm of contemplation before choosing.
Still, one cannot help missing the music.
Those nights of song and slogan, of laughter and quarrel, of hope bursting into dance were not just about elections. They were about the spirit of democracy itself, unselfconsciously exuberant, participatory, alive.
Now, democracy scrolls.
And one wonders, as the muffled autumn of 2025 gives way to polling day, whether Bihar's quiet will mark the maturing of Indian politics --or merely its melancholy.
(The author is Consulting Editor, NDTV)
Disclaimer: These are the personal opinions of the author
