Vishal Kumar, a wiry young man back home from Chennai where he works in a chemical factory, listens as a group of village women in Garigama discuss the Nitish Kumar government’s ₹10,000 cash scheme for women.

Ruby Devi’s eyes light up as she talks about the money she has received.

“I do tailoring,” the woman in a green sari says. “With this, I want to open a small ladies’ garment shop. But ₹10,000 is too little — if the government gives more, I can really start something.”

Vishal, her relative, cuts in. “This cash support is fine, but what about jobs?” he asks sharply.

“The government should set up factories here. We youths are forced to migrate, work like machines, and face humiliation outside. In other states, they look down on Biharis.”

Ruby nods. “Dus hazar se kya hota hai? Factory lagana chahiye (What can you do
with ₹10,000? They should build factories).”

“Factories and jobs” is more or less the refrain across Bihar’s villages — at tea
stalls, courtyards and market lanes alike.

Villagers acknowledge the improvements that Nitish Kumar’s long tenure has brought — better roads, cleaner towns, reliable electricity, and improved law and order that allows women to walk back home after dark.

Yet, as a Dalit Paswan woman in Ara puts it, “Road ban gaya, bahut achha. Lekin road se pet thode na bharega” — roads are fine, but they don’t fill the stomach.

For all the visible progress, Bihar still craves one thing — jobs that would allow its people to stay home.

Lakhs of youths migrate every year to Maharashtra, Gujarat, Punjab and other states to find work. Many, like Vishal, have returned home for Chhath and are staying back to vote.

Vikas, a young migrant who follows Prashant Kishor’s speeches online while working in Chennai, says he doesn’t trust any mainstream party. He lauds Nitish for the development but argues that 20 years in power should have been enough to set up factories.

“I’ll vote for Kishor’s Jan Suraaj Party,” he says. “He’s raising the right issues. Even if he doesn’t win, he’ll make an impact. I would’ve voted NOTA (none of the above) if Jan Suraaj weren’t an option.”

Kishor’s debutant party appears to be striking a chord among educated youth frustrated with the unemployment and outwards migration. While Kishor’s influence remains largely urban, the ripples are reaching rural Bihar, too.

In Sonpur, across the Ganga from Patna, three college students sitting on a motorcycle express anger at the police baton-charge on people protesting the leak of the Bihar Public Service Commission exam papers last year.

“Our parents will vote for the ‘lantern’ (the RJD symbol), but all three of us are for Jan Suraaj,” says Rohit Kumar, a master’s student in pharmacology who avoids using his surname, Yadav, as he wants to be “caste-neutral”.

“Prashant Kishor is talking about education and jobs. The current and past governments have failed on both fronts.”

Asked about Mahagathbandhan leader Tejashwi Yadav’s promise of a government job for one member from every family, his friend Ayush laughs: “Everyone knows what happens to politicians’ promises.”

“How many jobs can the government give?” says Amit, the third youth. “We need private investment.”

Many across Bihar credit Kishor with forcing the mainstream parties to foreground employment and migration in their manifestos. But some, especially from the upper castes, are hesitant to vote for him.

“I wanted to vote for PK but I’m afraid it’ll split our votes and help the RJD,” says Manish Kumar, a private bank employee in Patna. “I don’t want a return of the Lantern Raj.”

Despite the strong undercurrent of discontent over the joblessness, the sentiments haven’t yet hardened into anti-incumbency against Nitish Kumar’s two-decade rule. In Bihar, caste loyalties remain deep-rooted.

“Paswan hai toh Paswan ko hi na denge (As a Paswan, I will vote for a Paswan),” Kunti Devi, a supporter of the LJP (Ram Vilas), led by Union minister Chirag Paswan, had told this correspondent in Ara town of Bhojpur district a few days ago.

“Chirag should be made chief minister; he’ll set up factories here,” she had insisted.

Analysts say that caste identity, along with the government’s generous welfare measures, continues to blunt voter discontent.

The NDA’s pre-poll cash transfers — ₹10,000 to women associated with self-help groups and an increase in social security pensions from ₹400 to ₹1,100 — have won it significant goodwill.

“A pension of ₹1,100 has made me very happy; I shall vote for Nitish Kumar,” says Sarjug Mahto of Garigama.

Ruby and other women from the Kahar caste, an Extremely Backward Classes community, admit that unemployment remains a problem, but say they trust Nitish more than Tejashwi.

“Factories can’t be set up without the Centre’s support,” says Nishu Devi. “The double engine of Modi and Nitish will deliver.”

In Tejashwi’s constituency of Raghopur, caste loyalties remain unshaken. Local people attribute every bit of development — even those brought about by Nitish — to the RJD.

Pointing to the new Ganga bridge that has replaced the old pontoon crossing, Dilip Rai says: “This bridge is a gift from Lalu and Tejashwi.”

Told that it was built under Nitish, he retorts: “But it (the project) was passed in 2015 when Tejashwi was deputy chief minister.”

As Bihar votes again, the mood in its villages reflects both gratitude and grievance — a people grateful for progress but restless for real jobs.

n Vaishali and Patna voted on Thursday