Author: Radhika D Srivastava
Publication: The Times of India
Date: January 7, 2007
URL: http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/articleshow/1077292.cms
Over four decades ago, a frail, landless farmer
got hold of a chisel and a hammer and decided to change the face of his village
nestled in the rocky hills of Gaya. Dashrath Manjhi tore open a 300-feet-high
hill to create a one-km passage.
Manjhi knew it would he easier to move a mountain
than an apathetic government. He knew writing to the powers-that-be would
only leave the hill tied in red tape. Instead, Manjhi, then in his early 20s,
took up a chisel and hammered at the rocks for 22 years.
This feat, part of local folklore now, stemmed
from Manjhi's love for his wife. For, when she slipped off the rocks while
getting food for him as he worked in a field beyond the hill and broke her
ankle, it became a burning passion to tame the formidable hills that virtually
cut his village off from civilisation.
And he completed the Herculean task - creating
a short-cut which reduced a long and arduous journey from his village Gahlor
Ghati to Wazirganj to a walkable distance.
Manjhi hasn't forgotten the public ridicule
when he began hammering at the hill. "They called me a pagal but that
steeled my resolve," he says.
Even his wife and parents were against this
"adventure," especially when he sold his goats to buy a chisel,
a hammer and rope. But, by then, Manjhi was a man possessed. He shifted his
hut close to the hill so he could work all day and night, chipping away, little
by little. "I did not even bother to eat," he says.
With most of the cultivable land and shops
across the hill, villagers had to cross it many times a day, braving dangers.
It was after 10 years that people began to
notice a change in the shape of the hill. Instead of a defiant rockface, the
hill seemed to have a depression in the middle. Climbing it became a little
easier. "All those who had called me mad began to quietly watch me work.
Some even chipped in," he recollects.
In 1982, twenty-two years after he had started
out, Manjhi walked through a clear flat passage - about 16-feet wide - to
the other side of the hill. But his victory was tinged with sadness. His wife,
who inspired him to take on this task, was not by his side. "She died
of illness. We could not take her to a hospital on time," says Manjhi.
But, the villagers were there. They got him
sweets, fruits and all that they could afford. Says Ram Avatar Yadav of Bhitra
village: "We grew up hearing stories of the man who wants to move a mountain.
Today, it's a reality and a boon for me."
But, his family members are sore. "He
hasn't done anything for us. We are still struggling to make ends meet,"
says his daughter Laongi Devi. But, Manjhi wouldn't agree. "My hard work
should benefit thousands," he says.
This hand-carved passage through the hill
remains the only sustainable change the village has ever chanced upon. Tubewells
were installed, but they ran dry. Electric poles were put up, but the cables
never came. And a five-acre plot given by former CM Lalu Prasad to Manjhi
for a hospital still lies barren.
Septuagenarian Manjhi hasn't given up. "I
met CM Nitish Kumar recently. He has promised to develop the passage so that
even a car can pass and will connect my village to Gaya. And, he told me that
I will lay the foundation stone," he says.