Soutik BiswasIndia correspondent
For over a decade, Prashant Kishor was India’s backstage magician – the political strategist trusted by everyone from Prime Minister Narendra Modi to powerful regional leaders such as Nitish Kumar and Mamata Banerjee.
But when the 48-year-old finally stepped into the arena himself, the spell snapped.
Kishor launched Jan Suraaj (People’s Good Governance) with the swagger of a data-driven political start-up and the promise of breaking the cycle of stagnation in Bihar, India’s poorest state.
He spent two years walking across the state, built a slick organisation and fielded candidates in almost all 243 seats. The media buzz was huge, but Jan Suraaj failed to win a single seat, scraping only a sliver of the vote, as Modi’s BJP-led alliance swept to power.
For all the attention Kishor commanded – often more than established leaders – the party could not convert visibility into votes. In India’s febrile and deeply divided political marketplace, his debut, many believe, stands as a cautionary tale: breaking into the system is far harder than diagnosing its flaws from the outside.
The modern history of Indian politics bears this out.
Since the rise of the regional Telugu Desam Party (TDP) in 1983, very few new parties have crossed the threshold of relevance. Those that have – from West Bengal’s Trinamool Congress to Odisha’s Biju Janata Dal – were breakaway factions of major parties, anchored in existing social bases.
Others, like Assam’s Asom Gana Parishad (AGP) in 1985 or Delhi’s Aam Aadmi Party (AAP) decades later, rode on the back of mass mobilisation and political crises. Kishor’s Jan Suraaj had neither. It was not born of a street movement, nor did it emerge into a moment of anti-incumbent fury. Despite its many problems, Bihar in 2025 appeared to be largely content with the status quo.
“There was no anti-incumbency wave – voters largely stuck to established political and social loyalties. Without a visible crisis or widespread dissatisfaction, Kishor’s party never appeared a credible alternative, despite hard work and mobilisation,” says Rahul Verma, a political scientist.
Jan Suraaj’s debut in Bihar also contrasted sharply with most new Indian parties.
While parties like the AGP, TDP and AAP grew from “socio-political movements that already had deep emotional and grassroots resonance”, and AAP was born from a mass anti-corruption movement, Jan Suraaj was conceived as “more of an intellectual and strategic project” – a strategy-driven initiative to fill what Kishor called a “political vacuum”, says Saurabh Raj of the Delhi-based Indian School of Democracy.
“The subsequent padayatra [a long, grassroots walk across the state to meet people] tried to turn that intellectual idea into a people’s campaign. But it still lacked the organic, movement-based energy that typically propels new parties to relevance. In that sense, Jan Suraaj feels more like a ‘designed political start-up’ than a party born of agitation or upheaval,” adds Raj.
Kishor bet that this meticulously designed political project could substitute for a loyal constituency.
He talked of governance, jobs, forced migration for jobs and education – a compelling agenda in a state long trapped by caste and patronage politics. Reaching Bihar’s 130 million mostly young people, Kishor brought hype, methods, charisma – and even memes.
But many believe his party lacked the combustible emotional energy that propels insurgent political outfits. Kishor’s refusal to contest a seat himself may have deepened doubts about whether he was running an experiment or offering an alternative.
The Bihar verdict laid bare a structural truth of Indian politics: attention is not organisation, and media hype without ground strength can backfire.
As Raj notes, Jan Suraaj “failed to become a serious contender on any seat”, and even its modest vote share “shows the gap between visibility and strength”. The party has recognition but no natural social base – no caste, religious, gender or urban constituencies like its rivals, he says.
Verma puts it more bluntly: start-ups fail more often than they succeed – in business and in politics.
“We tend to remember only the successes, but most new parties fail,” he adds.
Building a party requires visibility, organisation, mobilisation and the right candidates – each a separate challenge, especially without a track record of voters trust, says Verma. Jan Suraaj fielded candidates in all 243 seats, most of them first-timers.
What does the failure of Kishor’s high-profile Jan Suraaj tell us about Indian voters? Kishor drew crowds wherever he campaigned, was articulate and dominated media coverage – yet his party lost to a coalition led by 74-year-old veteran Nitish Kumar, whom he had bet would never return to power.
“Indian voters today are more politically aware and issue-sensitive than ever before, but they also remain deeply pragmatic. They often appreciate the freshness of a new agenda but tend to ‘vote safe’ unless convinced of a party’s viability,” says Raj.
He believes Jan Suraaj’s focus on governance, jobs and migration was coherent and appealing, but without a charismatic electoral face, voters struggled to see it as a winning alternative.
By contrast, AAP’s early success in Delhi hinged on anti-corruption campaigner Arvind Kejriwal personally contesting against Sheila Dikshit, the then chief minister of Delhi, a symbolic act that converted volunteers into voters.
“Kishor’s decision to stay away from contesting limited that emotional connect and credibility. For new parties, a compelling agenda matters, but a relatable, risk taking leader who embodies that agenda is often the tipping point,” says Raj.
Yet, this may not be the end for Kishor’s party. In the past, he has promised to stay in Bihar and strengthen its grassroots presence and agenda if he lost the polls.
Raj believes if Jan Suraaj can maintain a steady ground presence, cultivate local leadership and avoid the “post-election dormancy” that traps many new parties, it may gradually convert attention into influence.
“Bihar’s political landscape is fluid, traditional caste loyalties are evolving and there is a growing appetite for credible alternatives. If Kishor chooses to lead from the front politically rather than strategically, and continues the grassroots engagement beyond the electoral cycle, Jan Suraaj could become a meaningful electoral force by 2030,” he says.
As one local voter put it to a reporter in a village in Bihar: “People might respond to [Kishor] in the next election. This time, he’s just getting his feet wet – he’s not some superhero who can soar immediately.”
