My Days In Prison - Karagar by Urmila Shastri

Author:Urmila Shastri [Shastri, Urmila]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperVantage
Published: 2012-04-17T00:00:00+00:00

8

Treatment of Prisoners

The Indian police force has the reputation of being the most corrupt in the world. In direct contrast to the functions of public assistance and protection that it has in other countries, in India the force seems to exist with the sole purpose of harassing and exploiting its people. In the smaller villages of the country, the mere mention of the police, even today, is enough to scare and intimidate people. The situation in the prisons of the country is even more depressing. As it is, rules and regulations of the prison system are extremely rigorous, and they are made to bear down hard on the inmates. Yet it is my experience that despite the rigid hardness of the system, the overall environment – good or bad – depends almost entirely on the personal disposition – good or bad – of the officer in charge.

As a rule, kind-hearted men are not put in charge of prisons. Even if they are, the system and its functional coldness, bordering almost on inhumanity, soon corrupt them. I’m sure there must be very few superintendents and jailors who investigate any problem within their prisons properly. The word of the wardens is taken without giving any thought to hearing both sides of the story. And even in the rare cases where other prisoners do give their evidence, they always say whatever the warden threatens them to. If they do not do this, the warden gets even with them at the first opportunity available. At the slightest excuse prisoners are warned of solitary confinement, beatings and chains. So great is the fear they inspire that prisoners always have to be careful to remain in their good books. In addition to all this, they also extract money from the prisoners whenever possible; money that I’m sure amounts to much more than what their salaries are.

I remember, a few days before my release, a new lady warden arrived. One day she came to our ward in connection with some visitors who had arrived to meet a C-Class prisoner. The ‘visitors’ were the woman prisoner’s young daughter and her four-year-old son. As soon as the son saw his mother he started crying loudly. On the other side of the prison bars the mother also started crying. All who were witness to the scene felt their eyes grow moist at the raw emotion on display, but the cruel, hard-hearted warden was not moved. Standing between the children and their mother she refused to move until she was given some money.

The daughter looked at her with pleading eyes. ‘I have only four annas,’ she said. ‘And I have to back to my village. If I give this money to you how will I pay the ikkewalla.’ But the warden was not interested in any reason. ‘Nothing doing,’ she snapped. ‘Wanting to meet her mother and doesn’t even have the money to pay for it. What do you think? These prison meetings come for free? Stupid girl!’

The mother folded her hands and begged the warden again.

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