BOOTLEGGER BABUA
My chacha-in-law is a robust 77-year-old - two years older than the teetotaling (outgoing) CM and soon-to-be Rajya Sabha member Nitish Kumar. For half a century, he has ended his day with a glass of whisky - my uncle-in-law, that is, not Nitish. He lives in Patna, where since April 2016, Bihar has enforced strict prohibition. Since then, he claims he drinks only on holidays, safely outside the state. I take that with a pinch of chopped adrak.
Like many whisky lovers in Patna, I hope he still indulges when a bootleg bottle comes his way. The secrecy, I suspect, heightens the pleasure. Especially knowing the next windfall could be months away. Or never.
In just a decade, the Patna gallant's easy swagger has given way to a perpetual, over-the-shoulder furtiveness. Once relaxed in demeanour, he is now markedly irritable. Bihar's prohibition laws, far harsher than the relatively benign regimes in Gujarat and Mizoram, have reshaped everyday life. As Manohar Malgonkar wrote in his 1982 espionage novel, Bandicoot Run, recalling 1960s Maharashtra: 'If you lived in a state under prohibition, you treasured your whisky.'
About a month ago, I was in Patna and went for a morning walk in Sanjay Gandhi Jaivik Udyan. There, I was delighted to encounter an old acquaintance - the Patna common man - in his oversized white kurta-pyjama and black Power Joggers. I asked, 'What are the rates these days?' For home delivery, a 750 ml bottle of **** costs ₹2,450 in Patna. Minimum order of 6 bottles. *** costs ₹1,800 and ** costs ₹4,000. 'Why only **** brands?' I asked. His answer: 'There's better quality control with them. You would never go blind imbibing them.'
Patna is a discerning market with many jagruk customers. But even so, rates are staggering. Bottles of rum and gin are so rare that they were worth their weight in gold. In some instances, the cost of a bottle of whisky increased to four times its MRP. In Gurgaon, I buy 3 bottles of *** at ₹1,900 from an L-1 outlet.
While prohibition has been a bane for many middle- and upper-class women - household budgets stretched by their husbands' drinking habits - it has been a boon for Bihar's present-day Al Capones, Louis Buchalters and Jack Kennedys. According to my common man, more than a few 'white houses' have risen on Patna's outskirts over the past decade on such proceeds.
'Well, it seems simpler just to smuggle in a bottle next time I'm in Patna,' I said.
'Bhai, that's what everyone does. I bring in two bottles of ***** each time I visit Delhi. Attaichi mein kas lete hain.'
While the middle and upper classes in Patna imbibe their *** and ***** Labels, what of the less well-off? After all, prohibition was enforced to protect them from the evils of overdrinking. For the financially strapped, as hooch tragedies suggest, things have gone from bad to worse.
It is said that consumption of marijuana and opium has risen. For the poor, deaths and methanol blindings will continue if prohibition endures. History offers a consistent lesson - from Harlem's bathtub gin to Bombay's permit rooms to Patna's hooch, people will drink. It cannot be stopped. While such tragedies occur even without prohibition, elsewhere the cash-strapped, at least, retain a choice: whether to risk their lives or not. Choice matters.
If the Bihar government truly cares about public health, it should ensure sale of quality liquor at reasonable prices through official outlets. Perhaps even set up distilleries of its own, generating jobs and revenue.
'Imperial Magadh,' distilled from pure Patna gangajal, has a certain ring as a potential homegrown single malt. Then, the next time I'm in Patna, I could buy a bottle and share it with my chacha-in-law in the evening. Without feeling like a raging sociopath.
Like many whisky lovers in Patna, I hope he still indulges when a bootleg bottle comes his way. The secrecy, I suspect, heightens the pleasure. Especially knowing the next windfall could be months away. Or never.
In just a decade, the Patna gallant's easy swagger has given way to a perpetual, over-the-shoulder furtiveness. Once relaxed in demeanour, he is now markedly irritable. Bihar's prohibition laws, far harsher than the relatively benign regimes in Gujarat and Mizoram, have reshaped everyday life. As Manohar Malgonkar wrote in his 1982 espionage novel, Bandicoot Run, recalling 1960s Maharashtra: 'If you lived in a state under prohibition, you treasured your whisky.'
About a month ago, I was in Patna and went for a morning walk in Sanjay Gandhi Jaivik Udyan. There, I was delighted to encounter an old acquaintance - the Patna common man - in his oversized white kurta-pyjama and black Power Joggers. I asked, 'What are the rates these days?' For home delivery, a 750 ml bottle of **** costs ₹2,450 in Patna. Minimum order of 6 bottles. *** costs ₹1,800 and ** costs ₹4,000. 'Why only **** brands?' I asked. His answer: 'There's better quality control with them. You would never go blind imbibing them.'
Patna is a discerning market with many jagruk customers. But even so, rates are staggering. Bottles of rum and gin are so rare that they were worth their weight in gold. In some instances, the cost of a bottle of whisky increased to four times its MRP. In Gurgaon, I buy 3 bottles of *** at ₹1,900 from an L-1 outlet.
While prohibition has been a bane for many middle- and upper-class women - household budgets stretched by their husbands' drinking habits - it has been a boon for Bihar's present-day Al Capones, Louis Buchalters and Jack Kennedys. According to my common man, more than a few 'white houses' have risen on Patna's outskirts over the past decade on such proceeds.
'Well, it seems simpler just to smuggle in a bottle next time I'm in Patna,' I said.
'Bhai, that's what everyone does. I bring in two bottles of ***** each time I visit Delhi. Attaichi mein kas lete hain.'
While the middle and upper classes in Patna imbibe their *** and ***** Labels, what of the less well-off? After all, prohibition was enforced to protect them from the evils of overdrinking. For the financially strapped, as hooch tragedies suggest, things have gone from bad to worse.
It is said that consumption of marijuana and opium has risen. For the poor, deaths and methanol blindings will continue if prohibition endures. History offers a consistent lesson - from Harlem's bathtub gin to Bombay's permit rooms to Patna's hooch, people will drink. It cannot be stopped. While such tragedies occur even without prohibition, elsewhere the cash-strapped, at least, retain a choice: whether to risk their lives or not. Choice matters.
If the Bihar government truly cares about public health, it should ensure sale of quality liquor at reasonable prices through official outlets. Perhaps even set up distilleries of its own, generating jobs and revenue.
'Imperial Magadh,' distilled from pure Patna gangajal, has a certain ring as a potential homegrown single malt. Then, the next time I'm in Patna, I could buy a bottle and share it with my chacha-in-law in the evening. Without feeling like a raging sociopath.
(Disclaimer: The opinions expressed in this column are that of the writer. The facts and opinions expressed here do not reflect the views of www.economictimes.com.)
Siddharth Chowdhury
Author of The Time of the Peacock