कलम घिसाई

As a Gandhi Fellow, I was sent for my initial field immersion to a government school in dire situation - worst learning outcomes in years, sky-high dropout rates and extreme performance difference by gender. My only hope was having some people in the school who were bothered by this. The vicious circle had caught the stakeholders in it. The school blamed the parents most of who were poor people living in a nearby slum. They, in turn, blamed the school. I needed to find a solution that would bring the school and the parents together and decided to create an open library owned and run by the community. It would be used by the students under guidance from the school and designed to ensure that women and girl students could access it without disrupting their routines as homemakers. To my happy surprise, the idea got accepted very well by the community, especially women. However, we faced several himalayan-sized challenges. Slum real estate was premium and our library needed space. In addit...

  आज सखी चली गयी ! अक्सर गर्मी की छुट्टी में हम लोग मोतिहारी (बिहार का एक गाँव) जाते, मौसी माँ बिना किसी शिकन, हर सुबह- शाम मेरे लिए अपने चकले - बेलन पे गोल चाँद सी चाशनी में लिपटी रोटियाँ बनाती। मौसी माँ के दिन की शुरुआत चूल्हा जलाने से होती, उनके पूस के घर से हर सुबह धुआँ निकलता, बिलकुल जैसे किसी पेंटिंग में हो। मौसी धीरे धीरे चूल्हा फूँकती, चाय चढ़ा अपनी टास आवाज़ में पुकारती “ ऐ सखी लोगन आवा हेने, अब बोले के कैसे कैसे का का भईल”(ऐ  सखी इधर आओ, अब बताओ कैसे कैसे, क्या  क्या हुआ )। मौसी हम तीनो बहनो को और हम मौसी को सखी बुलाते। उनकी  हँसी और आवाज़ दोनो हमेशा बुलंद थे।  मौसा जी का गुज़रना मुझे धुंधला सा याद है, वो सफ़ेद कुर्ता पहन, पान खाते और अपने कंधे पे बिठा कर गाते “हाथी घोड़ा पालकी जय कनहिया लाल की”। मौसी अपनी सारी उम्र मौसा के पेन्शन पे चली, पर उस पूस के घर में भी वो मुझे हंसती हुई और बेफ़िक्र जीती याद है। उनके हाथ का आलू चॉप , चटनी, आलू परवल और गोभी की सब्ज़ी खा कर सब उँगलिया  चाटते  । मौसी ने तीन बेटों को अकेले बड़ा किया, पापा और माँ ने हमेशा ...

I woke up at 5 am. The small village at the Indo-Pak border where I worked had barely begun stirring. I left my house, dark providing me the privacy needed to finish my business. It was a first for me - going out in the open to poop! Awkward and dazed, I hopped from one potential spot to another. Then, I heard some women calling me - “idhar aa jao yahan baith lo (Come, poop with us!).” Yes, you read it right. It was an invitation to poop together. I wanted to ignore that invitation, but they insisted, and I joined them hesitantly. And just like that, I became a part of their inner circle. The all-accepting circle of poop where gas and gossip was accepted as easily as hopes, fears, and challenges. One woman didn’t hold back her rage at the dowry the groom had demanded. Another one flowed through her dream of becoming a grocery store owner. Yet another one pushed through the loss of her buffalo, and with it, her livelihood. From recipes to insights, skincare to embroidery tips, governmen...