The morning after
Sep 20 2007 | Views 121 |
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Tags: non fiction literature prison diary blog print
Tags: non fiction literature prison diary blog print
After a few minutes, the senior, must be some 50 odd years, made me wonder when he came to the jail. He was wearing a hat the kind the freedon fighters wear, the Nehru cap I should say or rather the Gandhian cap and he had a baton in hand, ot just left me wondering if it is the fit place for such a dressing. A very nicely ironed shirt, white of course and the khakhi half trousers and a rubber chappal. He looked clean shaven, a little dark complexioned and had an air of authority.
He looked like he commands a lot of respect from the inmates, the way he moved about.
We were all called outside to where he was standing.
'So how many are there?' he asked
'35, two will go to Ward 3' the chief of the hall replied.
'Guys you will follow me' so saying he proceeded to the right.
As we came out I could see a lot of activity with many people cleaning their plates and some going to the bath, I did not know where, but the towel and the plastic soap holder had a reference.
We moved in a group, all the men a few of them really frightened including me. As we reached the narrow entrance at the begining of the lined cells, we were stopped.
Some fellows saw and mocked us at, cheering some people and some really cooing bad words...
Another guy came close to me and asked 'What was your problem sir, why the hell are you here?'
It really pissed me off. Before he could continue, the Senior called us to go in a line. I thanked God, and As we went I could see a small temple on the left and a common open bath on the right. I just couldn't remember if we came through this path the previous night.
(to be contined)
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