Scribbles

I haven’t seen my heart I but I feel the beats Sometimes slow, sometimes fast At times I don’t know.. it’s there It does show. I haven’t seen my heart I haven’t seen its wounds   but it was bruised It pumps the blood in the body- arteries and veins carry the blood said my science book. When I read love poems Or heard love songs I found mention of heart ache   and heart break. Its heart - In affection it rejoices rejection does otherwise. I haven’t seen my heart I haven’t seen the scars. For years it did not react To hate or love alike It was closed and Tenderness died. With passing time ice shafts of ‘coldness’ have started melting no, bells are not ringing neither violins playing But it’s feeling, I am alive again.

Imagine how it would be for women who could not read and write to become leaders of their places where once they were under veils and in clutches of perennial patriarchy, gathering to  make comics on their life stories of struggles and triumphs. This was exactly what the three day grassroots comics at Patna all about. Women who never stepped out of their homes, when were persuaded by the village people to contest election, they came out of their homes and rest as they is history. Most of the women, never attended school or had any history of reading and writing, even today, all they can write was their names. When they were elected as ward members, most of their work was done by husbands and they remained home. But the NGO trained these women in knowing their responsibilities .Today they have become confident and are all geared to fight in Panchayat elections scheduled in May 2016 in Bihar. “Earlier I panicked and used to get drenched in sweat whenever I had to talk to ...