Three murders in 24 hours. A lawyer gunned down over tea. Amid the rising tide of violence in Patna, a haunting question emerges—has law and order in Bihar become a hollow phrase?
A Shot Over Tea: The Death of Jitendra Kumar Mahto
In a chilling echo of a city losing control, 58-year-old lawyer Jitendra Kumar Mahto was shot dead in broad daylight on Thursday near the Sultanpur police station area of Patna. According to Patna East SP Parichay Kumar, Mahto was returning from a regular tea break when unidentified assailants opened fire. Three bullet shells were recovered at the scene. The assailants, still unidentified, vanished as swiftly as they struck.
For many in the neighborhood, Mahto wasn’t just another name in a police log. He was a familiar face, a quiet man who came by daily for a cup of tea and a few words with the locals. Now, the street where he once stood has become a crime scene, and his death is yet another entry in Patna’s growing tally of cold-blooded killings.
Murder as Routine: A City Under Siege?
Mahto’s murder is the third reported homicide in Patna within 24 hours and the fifth in Bihar on the same day. These aren’t isolated incidents—they’re part of a disturbing pattern that points to a city unraveling.
Earlier the same day, Surendra Kumar (alias Surendra Kewat), reportedly associated with the BJP, was shot near his farm in Sheikhpura village. Hours before that, grocery store owner Vikram Jha was gunned down outside his shop in Ram Krishna Nagar. In Sitamarhi, businessman Putu Khan was shot at point-blank range. And in Saran, teacher Santosh Rai succumbed to bullet wounds while his companion, Kangress Rai, remained in critical condition.
In total, five lives were extinguished in a single day. Five families left in shock. Five reminders that life in Bihar’s capital can be taken with terrifying ease.
Law and Order or Lawlessness?
Opposition leaders have been quick to point fingers at the Nitish Kumar government, accusing it of complete administrative failure. But political blame games aside, the reality on the ground speaks for itself.
When killings happen in succession—across social classes, professions, and districts—the problem isn’t just law enforcement lapses. It’s systemic. It's cultural. And it's terrifying.
CCTV footage is being examined. Forensic teams are at work. Official statements promise investigations “from every angle.” Yet behind every bureaucratic assurance lies the growing fear that justice will be delayed—or worse, denied.
The Silence Between the Shots
Perhaps the most haunting aspect of these killings is how normalized they’ve become. A lawyer is shot, a teacher is gunned down, a shopkeeper is executed—and life carries on.
There are no citywide protests. No high-level resignations. No late-night emergency sessions in the state assembly. Instead, there's a kind of numb acceptance, a learned helplessness that creeps in when violence becomes background noise.
This normalization is not just dangerous—it’s corrosive. It erodes public trust, diminishes the sanctity of life, and renders democratic institutions hollow.
Who’s Safe in Patna?
If a businessman can be murdered outside his home in one of Patna’s most secure neighborhoods, Gandhi Maidan, as was the case with BJP functionary Gopal Khemka on July 4, then who, exactly, is safe?
Police may talk about motives and suspects. Politicians may trade accusations. But residents of Patna, from lawyers to laborers, are left to navigate a growing sense of dread that their city is slipping into something unrecognizable.
In Bihar today, the rules seem clear: the gun has the final say, and justice is perpetually stuck in traffic.
Conclusion: A City Crying for Leadership
The killings in Patna are more than a crime blotter update. They are a mirror held up to a state struggling to assert control, to protect its citizens, and to maintain the very idea of civil society.
Whether this is a momentary breakdown or a sign of a deeper collapse will depend not on words, but on action—swift, transparent, and uncompromising.
Until then, the people of Patna will sip their tea a little more cautiously, and look over their shoulders a little more often.