LAST YEAR, Bihar saw 12 bridges collapse over 20 days. This time, the state is facing a predicament equally unique: a bridge that has sprung out of nowhere. Only, as per locals, it should never have. The 60-foot-long, 10-foot-wide structure started coming up over the Kari Kosi river in Rahmat Nagar on the outskirts of Purnea sometime in January. While the authorities look for the “unknown people” behind it, who claimed they were working on a “government project”, villagers see the handiwork of land sharks seeking to sell their flood-prone farm plots, and throwing in the bridge as extra attraction. If completed, the bridge would have linked the mainland along Kari Kosi to the floodplains, drawing buyers for the latter, as per the plan. After it was “discovered” last week, an attempt was made to demolish it. However, some villagers, believed to be interested in selling their lands, did not let officials pull it down. Among those who watched in despair as the bridge came up is Ramzani, 59, who lives in the nearby Bengali Basti, and does farming in the floodplains. He says the floodplains are under water from May till winter, allowing a window for just one paddy crop a year. “There is no village or settlement there… it’s just farmland,” he says. Mohammad Siraj, 52, also a paddy farmer, says: “We plant in January-February, and harvest by late April or early May, when the floods come and the whole area gets submerged… Even during the dry months, we have to wade through knee-deep water or use a tractor… What’s the point of a bridge to these plains? It will only ruin us.” Because it coincided with the planting season, the farmers remember exactly when the bridge started taking shape. “Some people stopped us from sowing crops,” says Ramzani. Around 28 acres of the floodplains falling under the bridge span were affected, with sowing continuing in the parts towards the other end. The builders told the farmers it was a government project, but Mohammad Fajlu says they had their suspicions. “The builders used substandard materials, took sand from the river itself and made a very shallow base. The amount of water this river gets during the monsoon, a bridge like this would not have held for even a week,” says the 34-year-old. But, at worst, the villagers thought it was just another government project “scam”. “Only later did we learn it wasn’t even a government project,” says a woman villager, requesting anonymity. It was after reports in the local media that the district authorities took note, and asked Purnea Municipal Commissioner Kumar Mangalam to “investigate”. On March 25, Mangalam ordered that the bridge be demolished within two days. But when officials went to the spot on March 27, he says, “Locals opposed the demolition, claiming it was a community effort.” The protesters, as per the villagers, made up a small group of around a dozen people. Mangalam told The Indian Express: “Whoever built the bridge didn’t seek the permission of the Municipal Corporation. We checked with the Water Resources Department, and they had not given approval either.” On why it took them so long to notice a bridge that should never have been, the Municipal Commissioner says: “It is in a remote area, not visible directly from any main road. As soon as we got knowledge of it, we started the investigation. We are determining now if the bridge falls on government or private land. Nonetheless, since no permission was taken, it will be demolished.” Purnea Sadar Sub-Divisional Officer Parth Gupta said: “We are trying to identify who built the bridge and why.” According to a local resident, Vikas Jha, the why part is easy, with the under-construction Purnea airport boosting land prices in the area. The going rate for land with proper documents is Rs 10-15 lakh per katha (a local unit); for floodplains, where the farmers usually don’t own papers, land can be bought for Rs 2 lakh per katha. Jha says: “The plan of the brokers was to connect the mainland with the floodplains, and then sell the latter to gullible outsiders lured by Purnea’s growth prospects, but unaware of the geography. They would have realised they were cheated only when the river flooded the area.” Jha adds that most of the floodplain plots have been owned by families for generations. “They came from West Bengal 50-60 years ago and were settled on the floodplains by the Brahmgyani Estate landlords. They have stayed here ever since.” This is one reason the authorities are not pushing ahead with the demolition now. They will wait till Ram Navami to avoid any communal tension, sources said. Ramzani says he and his brothers put in Rs 5,000 each to formally acquire 25 acres of the floodplains in 2000. “We were told the land had been registered in our names, but we never got any documents,” he says. On his share of around 5 acres, Ramzani usually harvests 700-800 kg of paddy annually, sustaining a family of six — including him, his mother, wife, son, daughter, and a younger brother. He supplements this with labour work, but the money is a pittance. In case of a full harvest, the family gets by as they can keep paddy aside for personal consumption as well as sell a part of it. With no crop this year, Ramzani is worried about the coming school year, which will mean new notebooks and other supplies for the children. “If someone falls ill, I don’t know how we will cover the costs,” he says. At Bengali Basti, housing around a hundred families, and criss-crossed with narrow, dimly lit pathways and mud homes, this worry runs across. But even by the light of the few bulbs, the large terracotta paddy containers in most homes are hard to miss. Looking at them, Ramzani sighs: “This year, how will we last?”
