Patna : In the chaotic carnival of Bihar’s politics, where irony wears a crown and hypocrisy dances in the streets, a peculiar spectacle has unfolded. Leaders of the Rashtriya Janata Dal (RJD), a party whose national president, Lalu Prasad Yadav, carries the weight of multiple convictions in the infamous fodder scam, have taken to the podiums with a bold new script. With straight faces and raised fists, they’re pointing fingers at the ruling National Democratic Alliance (NDA) and crying “Jungle Raj!” Oh, the delicious audacity of it all! It’s like a fox guarding the henhouse complaining about feathers on the floor.
Let’s set the stage. Bihar, a land of ancient wisdom and modern mayhem, has long been a laboratory for political acrobatics. The term “Jungle Raj” was coined in the 1990s, during the RJD’s 15-year reign under Lalu and his wife Rabri Devi, when lawlessness was less a glitch and more a feature. Kidnappings were as common as monsoon puddles, extortion was a thriving cottage industry, and governance was a rumor whispered in Patna’s tea stalls. The Patna High Court in 1997 didn’t mince words, slapping the label “Jungle Raj” on the state’s anarchy. Lalu, the charismatic cowboy of this wild west, was later convicted for siphoning off crores meant for cattle fodder—because, apparently, even cows weren’t spared in the great RJD rodeo.
Fast forward to 2025, and the RJD, now led by Lalu’s son Tejashwi Yadav, is staging a comeback tour. With assembly elections looming, they’ve dusted off their moral megaphones and are accusing Chief Minister Nitish Kumar’s NDA government of ushering in—you guessed it—“Jungle Raj.” The trigger? A string of high-profile crimes, like the murder of businessman Gopal Khemka in Patna, which has given the opposition enough ammunition to fire salvos. RJD spokesperson Mrityunjay Tiwari, with the conviction of a man who’s never heard of mirrors, declared, “This is maha-jungle raj!” One can almost hear the ghost of irony chuckling in the background.
The satire writes itself. Here’s a party whose leader was jailed for looting public funds, whose era was synonymous with goons roaming free, now playing the law-and-order card. It’s like a pyromaniac lecturing the fire brigade about smoke. RJD MPs like Sanjay Yadav have even claimed, as per recent reports, that “no one ever complained during Lalu’s rule.” Sure, and no one complains during a lion attack because they’re too busy running. The RJD’s defense is a masterclass in selective amnesia: blame the NDA for every murder, ignore the skeletons in their own closet, and pray the voters have forgotten the 1990s.
But the NDA isn’t sipping chai and watching this drama unfold. Deputy CM Vijay Kumar Sinha fired back, reminding everyone that Tejashwi is “the son of the ruler of Jungle Raj.” Prime Minister Narendra Modi, never one to miss a rally, has been hammering the RJD-Congress alliance for stalling Bihar’s progress, alleging they’re itching to rewind the clock to the dark ages. The BJP’s social media warriors are having a field day, with posts on X calling out the RJD’s legacy of “crime, chaos, and cattle scams.” One user quipped, “RJD talking about Jungle Raj is like Dracula warning about blood loss.”
The real joke, though, is on Bihar’s people, caught in this ping-pong of accusations. While politicians trade barbs, the state grapples with real issues—crime, unemployment, and crumbling infrastructure. The RJD’s sudden concern for law and order feels less like reform and more like election-season cosplay. Meanwhile, the NDA’s claims of “Susashan” (good governance) ring hollow when businessmen are gunned down in broad daylight.
In this satirical saga, the RJD’s attempt to flip the “Jungle Raj” narrative is both absurd and oddly admirable. It takes chutzpah to rewrite history while your party’s patriarch is a convicted felon. As Bihar heads to the polls, the question isn’t just who’ll win, but whether the voters will laugh off this farce or fall for it. Until then, grab some popcorn—the jungle drums are beating, and the show’s just begun.