The final numbers of the November 2025 Bihar Assembly elections have left the commentariat in stunned silence.
What was this?
A state known for its complex, fractured verdicts delivered a political earthquake. The landslide for the NDA, a staggering mandate of around 200 seats, was not just a victory; it was a comprehensive realignment. The Mahagathbandhan, led by the RJD and the Congress, was not merely defeated; it was dismantled. The RJD, which had been the single largest party, collapsed to around 25 seats. The Congress, continuing its existential freefall, was reduced to a mere six.
The results surprised almost everyone. So, what truly happened?
Was this, as some leaders immediately claimed, a case of “vote chori on a gigantic scale”? Or was it something deeper, something the opposition, in its intellectual circles, has become incapable of seeing?
Beneath the outcome lies a profound issue. Today’s Indian opposition looks at politics through an increasingly narrow and distorted lens. People often say ideology no longer matters, but is that true?
No, it is the backbone of any political party. If the core is weak, everything built around it begins to fail. The Congress leadership itself seems perilously unsure of its own ideological position. The RJD, for its part, also continues to carry the crushing burden of “Jungle Raj.” For millions of voters, this was not a political slogan but a lived, terrifying memory, and the NDA’s relentless invocation of it was a sober warning they were unwilling to ignore.
This is not a political failure. It is a philosophical one. It is a state of viyoga, a profound separation from the people.
How did the opposition attempt to connect, and why did it fail so catastrophically?
If the Congress wanted to reach the ordinary voter, it should have highlighted its own socialist roots. Instead, its leaders, even after Rahul Gandhi’s 1,300-kilometer “Voter Adhikar Yatra,” reverted to a tired, self-defeating script. The moment the scale of the loss became clear, the cry of “vote chori” went up. But why did this narrative find absolutely no resonance with the electorate? Because it is an abstract allegation that insults the voter’s own lived reality.
What was the Bihar government doing in stark contrast?
It was using its socialist foundation effectively. It did not just talk; it acted. It built strong, undeniable ties with women voters, a bloc that turned out in historic numbers, with female participation at 71.6% far exceeding the 62.8% for men.
This bond was systematically strengthened through direct, tangible welfare. The most potent of these was the “dashazari” scheme, the direct cash transfer of 10,000 rupees to millions of women just as the electioneering peaked.
This was not an abstract policy. This was samyoga or connection, in its most practical form. People got what they were experiencing in their lives. How can a voter be convinced of a theoretical, invisible theft when a tangible, visible benefit is reaching their own bank account?
Accusations about money going to Adani or Ambani felt distant and theoretical (This will always remain theoretical). The DBT benefits felt real. This is the chasm: the opposition was shouting about “vote chori,” while the government was quietly executing a “vote jodo” (vote-connecting) program.
This disconnect, this viyoga, was evident in every opposition misstep. When Congress leaders relentlessly questioned Nitish Kumar’s health and claimed he was unfit to serve, what did voters see? Not a legitimate political critique, but an unseemly, personal attack on an elder. Sympathy inevitably shifted toward him. The claims of “vote chori” felt hollow precisely because they were measured against the real memories of chaos during “Jungle Raj.”
Voters were asked to believe in a theoretical conspiracy, but their own memories recalled a period of actual, visible anarchy. They chose proven, present-day security over an unproven, abstract fear.
And what of the new strategist, Prashant Kishor?
His failure is perhaps the most clinical example of this disconnect. He launched his Jan Suraaj Party with a promise to be either “arsh par” (at the zenith) or “farsh par” (on the floor). The verdict is in: he is on the floor. Despite a marathon padyatra, Jan Suraaj failed to open its account. In a final, devastating humiliation, its candidates polled fewer votes than NOTA in 57 different constituencies.
Why did this happen? His mistakes come from the same root of Viyoga. His was a campaign of data points and technocratic strategies, but it lacked a soul. His decision not to contest himself, a question many voters asked, only widened the gap. He demonstrated that one cannot simply create a political movement from the top down, disconnected from the intricate, emotional, and historical bonds that tie voters to their communities.
Defeat in such a catastrophic manner does not come from stolen votes. It comes from Viyoga, the profound separation between a political party and the people it wants to represent.
Indian philosophical thought explains this with remarkable clarity. Kautilya in the Arthashastra speaks of samyoga, the vital and necessary bond between the ruler and the people. This bond, Kautilya argued, is not mystical. It is forged and sustained through tangible actions: welfare, trust, security, and an alignment with the public’s most deeply felt needs. The Bihar government, for all its faults, managed this samyoga well. Its focus on women, its delivery of direct, visible benefits, and its potent reminder of past chaos all served to reinforce this bond. They were speaking a language the voter understood: safety and sustenance.
Once leaders lose this connection, Kautilya warns, they fall into viyoga. They begin to speak a language of their own, obsessed with internal feuds, abstract theories, and perceived injustices that are alien to the populace. This separation is what precedes all political collapse. The 2025 Bihar election was not a stolen election. It was a forfeited one, lost in the vast, silent gap of Viyoga.
Want to understand the viyoga in details, read our previous article on it.
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