When Nitish Kumar first took oath as the chief minister of India’s second-most populous state in March 2000, there were no smartphones or Aadhaar cards, internet services were largely patchy dial-up connections, only one city in India had a short 4km metro railway, and Narendra Modi had not even stepped into public office.
Though that stint in power was short lived – Kumar led a minority regime that wilted in the face of Lalu Prasad’s numerically stronger and muscular coalition – the man who began his political journey as a student leader in the Bihar College of Engineering has crafted a remarkably agile and durable career over the past 25 years. He has won four consecutive terms in Bihar, swapped partners four times, suffered a drubbing without the Bharatiya Janata Party in the 2014 general elections and recovered, and emerged as the most indispensable man in the only heartland province that hasn’t seen a BJP chief minister at the helm.
The 2025 elections were supposed to be a challenge for the septuagenarian. He scraped through five years ago in the face of a resurgent Rashtriya Janata Dal, his party battling sabotage in 40-odd seats by the Lok Janshakti Party and falling to the third position (by seats) in the state; popular disenchantment about jobs in India’s youngest state was peaking; and so were concerns about his indifferent health.
Yet, an uncharacteristically muted campaign by Kumar – he didn’t speak to the media throughout the campaign, covered the state in smaller rallies, and issued a string of video appeals – was enough for the JD(U) to post its best performance since 2010 and propel the National Democratic Alliance to the largest vote share ever secured by an alliance in Bihar.
{{/usCountry}}Yet, an uncharacteristically muted campaign by Kumar – he didn’t speak to the media throughout the campaign, covered the state in smaller rallies, and issued a string of video appeals – was enough for the JD(U) to post its best performance since 2010 and propel the National Democratic Alliance to the largest vote share ever secured by an alliance in Bihar.
{{/usCountry}}His strategy of unleashing a barrage of welfare schemes ahead of the elections – ₹10,000 rupees to women at the forefront – and formalising part-time government employees, especially women, consolidated his key vote banks among marginalised castes and women, and helped undercut anti-incumbency.
When campaigning began, the NDA aggressively turned the election into a referendum for Jungle Raj – the 15-year-long rule by the RJD between 1990 and 2005 that was dogged by allegations of frequent crime. This was clever not only because more than 90% of Bihar’s electorate has seen Lalu Prasad’s governance (or the lack of it) but also because it turned the elections into a verdict on the entirety of Kumar’s governance mantra and legacy, and not just the fulfilment of promises over the last five years.
Counter-intuitively, the Opposition’s renewed focus on his health and constant allegations that the Bharatiya Janata Party was out to replace Kumar fuelled public sympathy for the four-term chief minister. The more enigmatic Kumar became, the more confident the Opposition grew in using Tejashwi Yadav’s perceived charisma in countering him.
But Kumar’s stature cast a tall shadow on his once-protege, ensuring that his carefully nurtured vote base of around 20% – comprising extremely backward classes, women, and a smattering of smaller upper caste groups and Dalits – stayed with him. His mild countenance and disciplined campaign cut a sharp contrast with the RJD’s more boisterous show, another strategic mistake by the Opposition.
The results showed that in a direct battle between Sushashan (good governance) Babu vs Yadav Raj, the ordinary person clearly voted for the man who stopped the slide of Bihar down the development ranks, steeled the police, curbed caste gangs, and built roads. As Gopal Mandal, a small shopkeeper said in Araria, “Could we have ever imagined that mud tracks can turn to concrete? Only Nitish ji could make that happen.”