In the floodplains of north Bihar, where mango orchards shade winding village lanes and ancient ponds mirror the skies, four simple symbols have quietly turned into political capital: Paag (the ceremonial Mithila turban), Maachh (fish), Makhana (fox nuts), and Paan (betel). In the upcoming assembly elections, these emblems of Mithilanchal life are at the centre of campaign speeches, street rallies and social media in contests across 14 constituencies of Darbhanga and Madhubani.
Once mere cultural motifs, these symbols now shape political strategies. Candidates who mishandle them risk appearing like outsiders. Those who embrace them credibly can tap into emotional loyalties that cut across caste lines.
Paag and the politics of belonging
Paag, traditionally tied during rituals, weddings and convocations, represents dignity, honour and identity. Politicians wear it to signal respect for Mithila. Local communities see it as a badge of belonging.
This symbolism turned combustible after a controversy involving Maithili Thakur, the BJP nominee from Alinagar.
A short video showing Thakur placing Makhana inside a Paag and eating from it went viral. Cultural groups accused her of insulting a sacred symbol. Rivals cast her as someone alien to Maithil traditions.
“For a whole day and even the next, instead of seeking an apology, she and her supporters indulged in whataboutery and excuses. On one hand, she calls herself the pride of Mithila, and on the other, she can’t even admit her mistake. She eventually apologised, but with arrogance,” said Anup Kumar of Benipatti.
“Paag is not a cap you wear for a selfie,” remarked Dr Ghanshyam Jha, a retired civil surgeon from Darbhanga. “It is an integral part of Mithila’s cultural and religious life. The history of the Paag dates to the pre-Vidyapati (12th century) period. It has its own code — how to wear it, when to wear it, who should wear it, and how to hold it.”
The BJP’s carefully choreographed cultural messaging was thrown off balance, underscoring how potent these symbols remain.
BJP’s Maithili Thakur did not respond to texts or calls from HT for a comment.
Makhana as livelihood and identity
The uproar also touched another sensitive emblem — Makhana. Grown in the wetlands of Mithilanchal, this is both a staple food and a key livelihood source for thousands of farmers. In 2022, it received a Geographical Indication (GI) tag, now proudly cited in party manifestos.
The BJP cites Makhana as proof of the Modi government’s commitment to promoting local products globally. “Modiji has a clear vision for Vocal for Local — be it Mithila painting or Makhana, he always promotes them,” said Abhayanand Jha, a senior BJP leader from Darbhanga.
But beneath the glossy promises lie caste hierarchies and economic fault lines. Despite the GI tag, farmers still earn little, while traders dominate the market. Access to ponds, price control and profit distribution remain skewed in favour of a few powerful groups.
Maachh and Mukesh Sahani’s tightrope walk
Fish (maachh) is both a staple and political currency in north Bihar. The Mallah/Nishad community, traditionally associated with fishing and boating, is a crucial electoral bloc. All alliances are wooing them.
At the heart of this is Mukesh Sahani, chief of Vikassheel Insaan Party (VIP). Once with the NDA and now aligned with the Mahagathbandhan, Sahani projects himself as the face of EBC (extreme backward class) empowerment and Mallah pride. His supporters call him “Son of Mallah”.
The Mahagathbandhan has promised to make him deputy chief minister if it comes to power, hoping to consolidate EBC votes. But it isn’t a given that the community will vote in a bloc. “Mallah voters want development of their riverine belts—boats, ghats, jobs,” said Pramod Kumar, a community leader in Jale. “But they are also practical. If Sahani doesn’t look like a winner, they’ll go where their vote matters more.”
Seat negotiations have tested his leverage. Local Mallah leaders in some villages are already flirting with the BJP . For Sahani, the challenge is to turn cultural symbolism — Maachh and Nishad pride — into real political gains.
Paan as code and connection
The fourth symbol, Paan, may seem trivial, but in Mithila it’s a form of political theatre. Candidates are assessed not just on what they say but how they behave: whether they accept Paan gracefully, chew it with elders, or know the right bazaar to shop at.
“When a politician stops at a Paan stall, chews with villagers, and chats in Maithili, it signals familiarity,” said activist Kishori Sinha. “If they rush past or act awkward, it exposes distance. In Mithila, if you don’t know how to offer Paan correctly, you’re already on the back foot.”
Identity as campaign grammar
Across Darbhanga and Madhubani, these cultural symbols now shape the grammar of political campaigns. The BJP has cast itself as the custodian of Mithila identity, showcasing Paag rituals and promising tourism circuits around temples and ponds. Its star candidate Maithili Thakur (despite the controversy) embodies a softer projection of Maithil pride.
The Mahagathbandhan has countered this with a blend of identity and social justice. It promises welfare schemes for fisherfolk, cooperative models for Makhana farmers, and uses regional pride to blunt the BJP’s nationalist narrative. “Both sides insist they represent Mithila more authentically. But we’ll stay with Sahani,” said Indrajeet Mallah of Kushershwarsthan.
This tug-of-war also mirrors an urban–rural split. Urban Maithili elites see these emblems as heritage markers. Rural voters view them as living, practical elements — sources of livelihood and dignity.
More than a cultural flourish
“These symbols, of course, cannot substitute for governance,” said Kishore Karn, a political observer in Darbhanga. “The GI tag won’t rescue Makhana farmers overnight. Paan rituals won’t generate employment. A Paag won’t stop the Bagmati from flooding. But in a region that sees itself as culturally distinct within Bihar, these gestures act as filters — revealing who is trusted to represent Mithilanchal and who is not.”
He added, “The BJP wants to anchor this election on cultural nationalism fused with development, while the Mahagathbandhan is betting on coalition-building powered by local identity. And leaders like Sahani are the swing players testing how deep cultural politics runs.”
And so, in Mithilanchal, this election isn’t just about who will rule Patna. It’s about who wears the Paag correctly, who shares Paan with the right people, who understands the weight of Makhana in a farmer’s hand, and who can turn Maachh from a symbol into a stake. Here, culture isn’t decoration — it’s the ballot itself.
