Jewel of the jail

This was an exclusive one on one with the Inspector General of police Kiran Bedi during her stint at Tihar Jail as DG Prisons in Delhi. This interview turned out to be one hell of a luck since soon after my chat the next day she got a call from the Ramon Magsaysay Jury that she has been selected to receive the award by the end of the week. In all since she would be busy and have no time for interviews for other newspaper journos, who wanted to after the award announcement, was out of the question, till she got back from Philippines. So this chat for than three hours with her proved a plus for Deccan Herald and me. I was asked by the Sunday Herald's than editor that I write every single word I spoke to her since they were going to give me a full page with the Tihar jail story. This brightened my eyes and ears and I sat for two days in the Deccan Herald, New Delhi Bureau office, ensuring that I recollect every little aspect of my interaction with her.

The year 1984 seems to be a blessing in disguise for the Indian women. Shortly after the New Year revelry came the creaming; with the crowning of Sushmita Sen, as the queen of the universe. Now in the middle of the year is the icing of Asia’s most prestigious award, Ramon Magsaysay, in community services bestowed upon Kiran Bedi, Inspector –General of Delhi Prisons.
Kiran is the second of four girls born to a businessman from Amritsar. Her ancestors had fled to India from Peshawar during the partition. Born on June 9, 1949, she took to tennis at the age of nine when she was at Sacred Heart’s Convent High School. At that age itself she was taught to be independent by her father, an hard taskmaster. She completed Government College and an MA in Political Science. After her selection in the Indian Police Service, she did a course in law and a doctorate in narcotics.
It has been a long climb and no sweat lost. Attempting the Everest was not an easy task as she had to fight off the eagle eyed forces and also maintain her good PR with the press. The short-haired Punjabi lady with an ever helpful eye has always attracted controversies. In 1980, during an Akali demonstration which turned violent, she led the police force from the front brandishing her baton against the armed hordes. It did embarrass her senior officers bust was a dose of muscle in the arms of the front line cadres.
And as chief of traffic police, later, she was called ‘crane Bedi’ because she used cranes to two away offending vehicles. Earlier, as a daring officer she had killed a boy while firing at a fleeing gang of dacoits. This brought political vendetta, just like a medical college seat for her daughter from the Mizoram quota, where she had been posted. She had also faced the wrath of lawyers when one of them was handcuffed on her instructions.

The human in Kiran Bedi is evident as she goes about reforming convicts rather than negate them. While in the narcotics bureau she set up a watch squad along with neighboring countries to check drug trafficking. Asked about her reactions to the award, she replied, “I am thrilled … grateful. It is God’s grace.” It also saddens me because it was a massive combined effort, and the award is for me alone, she added. “Therefore now, I realize my responsibility is even greater … and am a ‘trustee’ who has to do more than before.
The joy on Kiran Bedi’s face was seen as she entered the jail, greeted by the inmates’ innocent eyes and their clapping of hands, accompanied by the beats of drums and melodious songs. She waves back to the inmates like a child would do after getting the ice cream for which she worked hard and joins them in the jig of bhangra added with a spice disco. “The award is for you all,” she screams as she picks up a child who welcomed her with a garland, and jumps in joy known only to her.
Being a woman or the second sex does not matter to her as she was always treated as a beta- a child- by her parents. “I must be the only woman heading a prison of this magnitude, and I am grateful to this community for this award,” she said. If not for the backing of my family I would not have even reached half of what I have achieved so far.
When her mother was contacted for her reaction, she said, “This is a victory for the Indian women and not for my daughter alone. I am proud to be her mother and as always honesty and hard work pays. I often visit Tihar ashram and not the jail. The last time I had been there was when a yagna was being performed in which Kiran sat in the hot sun for three or more hours and went through the rituals. Looking at than my eyes, without my being conscious, welled with tears.”
Kiran’s father, who is the main source of encouragement to her, pointed out, “I had worked for 50 years for this day. I have no son but my daughter has given me the pleasure of seeing to it all my dreams come true. The sky is the limit for the Indian woman.” Asked how she grew up he replied, “I have punished her so many times by making her stand in the sun for hours, and I think this hard effort has to be awarded at last. I would have been surprised if she had not got it.”
The most feared inmate of Tihar ashram, Charles Shobraj, commented that ‘It’s great, she worked hard for this. She deserved it and she’s got it.”
For the super cop it is a lot of money to handle now because the award also carries a cash prize of $ 50,000. “I have never worked for money all these years, and now suddenly I get so much I don’t know what to do with it. I think it will be channelised to help the needy.” Another six months to go for this year, and many more things to happen, the Indians will have to wait and see if more women from a country which has always treated women as second rate will spring up surprises. As one would say, only time will tell, not for the awards but for men to treat women as equals.

Freedom in the fortress

This story of Delhi’s Tihar jail in my 2 decades of photojournalist career is the longest ever written. Another great thing about this story is since I had already interviewed Kiran Bedi a week before this story could appear had received the Ramon Magsaysay award for community service. So in a way this story was a double whammy for Deccan Herald as well as me, since Kiran Bedi was to arrive later and every newspaper was going to miss the story and her interview. Lady luck they say, well and truly this Lady Kiran Bedi’s luck was to be showered on me. This story got full page display with pictures on the Sunday Herald edition, on July 24, 1994.

Delhi’s Tihar Jail, where nearly 9,000 offenders are lodged, has been an educational experience for its diverse inmates. S Shiv Kumar spends sometime in the jail-cum-ashram and talks to the force behind the changes, Inspector General of Prisons Kiran Bedi, who won the Ramon Magsaysay Award for community service earlier this month.

On the outskirts of the capital is a small colony with huge walls, which are heavily –guarded. The inmates of this modern-day fortress are people from all parts of the world, from different religious back-grounds, herded together for a single reason: crime. Tihar jail is also the current address of a notorious person –perhaps the world’s most dreaded criminal, who masterminded the ‘great escape’ or jailbreak less than a decade ago, in 1986. Charles Sobhraj –nicknamed he ‘Cobra’ for his cold-blooded murders of bikini-clad women –has since lived in relative quite in Tihar jail.
But Tihar is no mere jail, as the princess of dacoits, Phoolan Devi declared. A free bird now, Phoolan declared after serving a decade long sentence that she enjoyed her imprisonment. She also learnt to read and write in Hindi, while in jail. “Now, I am an educated women and an independent member of society.
The jail is surrounded by two huge walls, with machinegun totting police of the Tamil Nadu Special Group perched atop, their eagle eyes scanning all directions. The jail is made up of four independent prisons – the largest one as been trifurcated since the escape of the ‘Cobra’. Each prison houses between 1000 and 2700 inmates. The inner walls of the prison are revealing, marked by the sayings of Mahatma Gandhi and various religious leaders.
The cell in which Phoolan Devi had served her sentence has now been turned into a library, with a range of volumes including novels, sci-fi, even real life dramas. Shanti, in her early 30s, is the ward leader here. “Every year, a person is elected by his or her fellow inmates to maintain inter-discipline.” The leader, in turn, appoints a few trusted aides to “keep an eye on the trouble makers.” But, what happens if the leader indulges in trouble? Well, the individual is then stripped of the post, and a new person is appointed, she explains.
Shanti, who has already served five years behind bars, is full praise for Inspector-General of Prisons Kiran Bedi (who took over two years ago). “It’s only now that he inmates are being treated as human beings. She is not only trying to educate us, but also giving us a second life....”
Inmates at Tihar follow strict rules similar to the army regimen, laid down by senior inmates, elected or appointed to form a panchayat. These people are constantly in touch with senior officers of the jail. They allot various projects to different prisons and wards, such as library management, sports, yoga, and the literacy drive.
Between 9am and 11am on weekdays, lessons are compulsory for Tihar residents. Among languages, they can choose between Urdu, Punjabi, French, Italian, Arabic, English and Hindi.
A Nigerian in her late 20s, Mrs Glory, was spotted teaching a class, with a book in her hand. She was arrested under the Narcotic Drugs and Psychotropic substances act in 1990. Glory, who teaches English, has for the past year been learning Italian and French during her leisure. Knowledge is important, she stresses. Once she is released, she plans to go to Europe and spend the rest of her life there. “If I know the basics first, life will be so much easier for me,” she adds.
At Tihar, inmates who give birth during imprisonment, or those who cannot live without their children, have nothing to worry about. All the women’s wards have a kindergarten attached, supervised by a teacher between 9am to 4pm. So the kids do not miss out on education, while remaining close to their parents.


Women Inmates at a daily class for learning Hindi and other subjects along with a recycling unit (top left), a male inmate learns French as a prison guard share a moment of fun with the kid of a inmate (top right), and the cell of Phoolan Devi, which is now converted into a Library (left).

Mrs Shrimati Papa, an inmate for three years, who recently gave birth to a daughter in her cell with the help of doctors from the prison clinic, said, “I thought that nobody would help me but the whole prison, including the prison staff, came forward to help me. They were seen rejoicing when I gave birth to Bharathi.” Pointing out to others, she says, “Without them, my daughter and I would not have lived to see this day.”
Bedi has taken a positive step by asking all Tihar inmates to apply for Open University programmes. About 2,000 of them have already applied; and 35 percent of them have passed at the very first attempt.
Deep Chand, in his late 40s, who has spend 13 years in Tihar so far, has passed the high school examinations and now applied for the university. “If not for the encouragement given to me by memsahib, I would not have given it a try,” he states.
Mrs. Sheila Abharam, in her late 30s, who passed the BA exam, is now learning computers. “With a diploma in my hand, I do not need to rely on my husband or other members of my family; I will be independent and self-sufficient.”
Tihar does not offer formal knowledge alone; it offer yoga and job work, too. One of its most popular courses in vipasana (a form of yoga); two months ago, more than 1,000 inmates participated when the discipline was taught. Now, the prison has vipasana training centre for the benefit of the inmates.
To a person not well versed in yoga, vipasana means nothing. Not so in the case of a inmate, who was born in London, brought up in Australia, and now lives in Hong Kong. “Well about this yoga is that it teaches a person to be patient, and to love everything that nature has to offer.” What does vipasana mean? It relates to when one lets the mind rest from all the happenings in the world, concentrating instead on a single leaf of a tree; that’s when one attains vipasana. “When I get out of these God-forsaken bars, I will go back to Hong Kong and set up a yoga centre – to help teenagers, hooked onto drugs, to take up this drug. Look at me now. Don’t I look fit? You want to know the reason why. Well, I am addicted to yoga; that’s why.”
‘No Smoking’ signboards are visible all around the premises. And the guards on duty follow their bidding religiously. When I spoke to a constable on duty, he said: “If I start smoking in front of the inmates, who are here to reform themselves, I will be tempting them, instead of helping them.”
The Tihar inmates are busy throughout the day, attending to tasks like making bread, converting waste into manure, and so on. The proceeds from these activities go to the prison welfare fund.
The inmates often use the huge library at their disposal, with constantly updated magazines and newspapers. “This helps the inmates to keep up with the outside world,” says Bedi. The library also contains legal books, to help the lawyers of the inmates to refer to material relevant to their cases.
The prison staff mingle with the inmate’s every evening, holding cricket, football or volleyball matches, which enable the inmates to take their minds off work and relax.
Mohammed Maqbal from Jammu and Kashmir, a TADA detainee, said of the prison” “I killed so many innocent people three years ago. But today, when the inmates show respect and love for me, it makes me feel bad for what I did before.” When he was arrested and send to Tihar, he assumed he would be treated badly by the police, only to find that he was wrong.
Tihar is unlikely to sop marching forward because there are still more surprises in store for its inmates. Bedi reveals that plans are afoot to get all prisons computerised, with the help of the National Information Centre. Besides, a cable network will soon enable inmates to get good entertainment.
I left after spending more than six hours inside Tihar, amidst quite and happy surroundings, where human beings are treated with respect. At the main entrance, on my way out, I happened to run into a passer-by, only to be rudely told: “Do you have no eyes?”
With a jolt, I was brought back to reality. I suddenly realised that I was outside the world of Tihar once more.