The Dalit sword of Mansa
"I want to go and sing and campaign and rally the poorest of the poor. I want to work 30 days of the month, perhaps stay for two days in my village and then travel, meet people, hold rallies and mobilise the poor. I want to do things quickly and not wait eternally. I want my people to be liberated. I am becoming impatient. I want to walk. I want to walk. I want to run. Just help me a bit, I will show you I can run."
Bant Singh, his two lower-arms and one leg gone, is sitting in the Mansa Civil Hospital, a torso flaming with anger and celebration. He laughs and jokes like a little boy as he cajoles his wife, Harbans Kaur, to make nimbu paani for his visitors. He takes calls on a cell phone given to him by friends, urging, "Carry on the fight, I'll be there the moment the doctors let me be." His wife and his eldest daughter, Baljeet, say they want to help Bant Singh with his political work among the region's Dalits – making them aware of their rights, fighting for justice – because this is "the path he has chosen". It is a path that has led to Baljeet's rape, and the brutal loss of Bant's arms and leg. But it is also one that has led to a new sense of empowerment for many of Punjab's most oppressed communities.