#Mahagathbandhan: All Bark, No Bite
Bihar politics at the moment is like a tragicomedy on a very messy, very loud stage. You watch, you laugh, you groan, and sometimes, you weep. The Mahagathbandhan, once imagined as a formidable alliance, is today a tangle of egos, half-truths, and ambitions, squabbling over the scraps of power. And the spectacle—oh, it is irresistible.
In my previous analysis, I had predicted that the NDA would comfortably cross 160 seats. Now, the exit polls are out. Personally, I never place full faith in exit polls—they have been wrong before, and they will be wrong again. But to ignore them entirely would be foolish. According to these surveys, the NDA could go beyond 175 seats, and one of the polls even suggests the astonishing figure of over 200. Whether you believe these numbers or not, they are the talk of the town, and they cannot be ignored.
Inside the Mahagathbandhan, leaders continue to insist these polls are “wrong,” “fake,” “misleading,” and “bound to fail.” Tejashwi Yadav claims that Bihar has “made its mood” clear. That is partially true—the people have indeed made up their minds. But the mood is not for him to become Chief Minister. Nitish Kumar remains the clear choice, and the BJP is set to be the largest party. Tejashwi clings to half-truths like a drowning man clinging to driftwood, hoping reality will somehow bend in his favor.
Meanwhile, Rahul Gandhi sits in Delhi’s Gufa Bhavan, plotting. Maharashtra, Haryana, now Bihar—“vote theft” is the mantra. If results are inconvenient, blame someone else. Tejashwi, on the other hand, is caught between bravado and reality. Should the Mahagathbandhan lose, his political career—built largely on his father’s legacy—will face serious jeopardy. Inside RJD, rebellion is already brewing. Tej Pratap has departed to form his own party. Tickets were sold like commodities, money changed hands like Monopoly cash, and resentment has become a living organism within the party.
Congress is no better. Senior leaders grumble, younger ones whisper rebellion. Disputes over seat sharing, minority politics, and candidate selection have turned the party into a simmering stew of frustration. Even the most optimistic Congress strategist would be checking his pulse right now.
Prashant Kishor, the self-styled wizard of strategy, has failed spectacularly. Social media campaigns, corporate money, interviews, and hype could not move the needle. Bihar voters are not fooled by algorithms or hashtags—they have memories, experience, and skepticism. Kishor’s advisory factor crashed not because of conspiracies, but because he misread the ground. Tej Pratap, similarly, remains more theatrical than political, and his credibility is shaky at best.
And then there are the small tragedies and comedies of individual players. Mukesh Saini, last-minute promises, broken assurances—Tejashwi’s handling of candidates has created an internal battlefield. When the results arrive, the first volley of blame will come from inside. Tejashwi will be caught in the crossfire of a revolt he never anticipated.
The larger lesson is clear: Bihar’s election is not just about exit polls and numbers. It is about ego, ambition, incompetence, and failed strategy. Tejashwi, Rahul, RJD, Congress—they face a brutal reckoning. If they cannot manage internal chaos, the next election will be less about governance and more about the inevitability of defeat.
Meanwhile, the public will watch and laugh. The shouting, the blame games, the conspiracies—Bihar voters are getting front-row entertainment. But political spectacle aside, the message is serious: incompetence has consequences. The voters have spoken. And when the dust settles, the Mahagathbandhan will be left with echoes of its own hubris, a pile of internal rubble, and the memory of what could have been.
Yes, exit polls can be wrong, and personally, I don’t take them as gospel. But even I, who had predicted a comfortable 160+ seats for the NDA, cannot ignore that the surveys now suggest numbers far beyond that—175, 180, or even 200. The discussion these polls provoke reveals far more about Bihar politics—and the fragile ambitions of Tejashwi Yadav—than the numbers ever could. The comedy is endless, but the tragedy, for those who overestimated themselves, has just begun.



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