Prohibition of alcohol in the Indian state of Bihar | Border bars flourish in Nepal

As the afternoon heat gives way to a pleasant evening breeze, a palpable shift begins to take place in the makeup of the crowds moving from India to Nepal.

In the beginning, there are Nepalese, many of them women, returning home after making quick purchases of cheaper goods and groceries from the Indian side. Two women dressed in colorful saris share the load of a heavy bag, each grabbing a handle. A man carries a fan on the back of a pedicab, the blades of which spin in the wind; another pedals his bike with a watermelon strapped to his back.

But as night begins to fall, much of the crowds crossing the border are men who come mostly empty-handed. Men with jobs in the civil service, their shirts tucked in and their shoes polished in the morning, who are dropped off at the border in their vehicles. And men who pedal on their bicycles, with heavy legs and heavy thoughts, the tools of their daily trade hanging in a bag by the handle.

They are Indians crossing into Nepal for a drink or two – or as much as they can get before the police whistle and the roadside bars close, around 9 p.m.

The India-Nepal border, barring moments of political tension, has been an example of how open politics helps border populations benefit from broader economic choices. Let’s take the example of the motorbike, a very popular means of transport here: spare parts are cheaper in India; fuel is cheaper in Nepal.

A small industry

This opening has been particularly welcomed by local drinkers since the Indian state of Bihar, which has more than 100 million inhabitants – and shares a border with Nepal more than 600 km long – banned the alcohol in 2016. A small industry of bars and restaurants has sprung up just across the border on the Nepalese side, welcoming Indians of all classes seeking to quench their thirst.

The ban in Bihar, championed by local women, was aimed at tackling endemic problems of alcoholism, domestic violence and wasted earnings. Penalties for being caught in possession of alcohol are severe. A first-time offender must pay hundreds of dollars in fines or spend a month in jail; repeat offenders are sentenced to one year.

The government of state chief minister Nitish Kumar said the ban had helped reduce violence and crime, although the proximity to the border and the ease of crossing it mitigated the effect of the law.

The ban has also given rise to protests. The legal system is clogged with alcohol cases. The state loses hundreds of millions of dollars each year in liquor taxes. And the booze is still there – smuggled in and sold at double or triple the price.

Smuggling

An Indian farmer, straddling a bench in one of the roadside bars in Nepal, with two bottles of cheap grain alcohol in front of him, says the chief minister wins elections because women vote for him in recognition of the prohibition of alcohol.

But farmer Gupta, who only gave his last name because he intended to break the law by bringing alcohol back with him from across the border, said this policy had simply raised the price of alcohol, because it was still available, but two or three times more expensive.

While still on the Nepali side of the border, he bought a third bottle to take away, wrapped it in his shawl and tied it to the back of his bike. As he staggers back to Bihar, he assures anyone who can hear that he is not drunk.

The open border area is vast, as is the diversity of the booze party scene that has developed across the border in Nepal.

Wealthy Indians drive to the town of Janakpur or to the popular hill areas, where the bars are air-conditioned, the alcohol is imported and the parties are rowdy.

In a hotel bar in Janakpur, the men, increasingly tipsy around the table, mingle cries of “bottom up!” to the derogatory names they address to waiters to order the next round. At another hotel, the discomfort of being spotted drinking in Bihar still seemed to grip two men who had driven in for lunch: they poured their beers into mugs tucked discreetly under the table.

A positive opening

Umesh Yadav, a Nepalese university professor from the border town of Jaleshwar, said the economic opportunity of an open border far outweighs the small issues of increasing numbers of drunken customers.

“When they’re drinking, of course, sometimes there are problems,” he said. But the police are still there. »

The Mahottari border post is a kind of equalizer. Crowds of all kinds mingle at the dozen or so simple shacks that serve as bars.

“We used to sell education, now we sell alcohol,” smiles Kundan Mehta, who ran a book and stationery store in Bihar before setting up the Navrang Hotel on the Nepal side. about five years ago. “I tell them: enough study, son, go have a drink now. »

Ankit, 22, who works for a local bank an hour from the border, had endured a long work week to complete the collection of hundreds of loans. He had taken a bus to go to the border directly after work, to eat fried fish, a local specialty. Ankit, who requested that his surname not be used because he was going to smuggle alcohol into India, mixed beer with a bottle of local liquor.

“It helps me release some of the stress,” he says.

While paying his bill, Ankit bought two small bottles to take away. A Nepalese woman wearing an orange sari was waiting at the counter, ready to earn a small sum for her next smuggling mission.

“Let’s go,” Ankit said. I’m late, I’m going to miss the bus. »

“Roji-roti,” the Nepali woman replied with a smile. In local slang, this term literally means “daily bread” and carries the connotation of a person’s livelihood.

She slipped the bottles into the belt of her sari and led the way.

Birkha Shahi, commander of the neighboring Nepalese border post, is understanding. He explains that his forces don’t really crack down on one or two bottle smuggling, but focus on large-scale smuggling.

“We get tired of grabbing them, but they don’t get tired of trying,” he said. Roji-roti. »